International Encyclopedia of Social & Behavioral Sciences

S Sacrifice There is no scholarly consensus regarding the meaning of the term ‘sacrifice.’ In its widest usage the term, which derives from the Latin sacrificium, is applied to virtually any form of gift-giving to a deity. A more restricted application limits its use to situations in which the gift is mutilated or destroyed. An even more restrictive usage is suggested by the Oxford English Dictionary (Simpson and Weiner 1989\1933), whose primary definition is ‘the slaughter of an animal (often including the subsequent consumption of it by fire) as an offering to God or a deity.’ The term sacrifice is, therefore, best regarded as a polythetic category which includes heterogeneous modes of behavior motivated by intentions of variable kinds. These include commemoration, initiation, expiation, propitiation, establishing a covenant, or affecting a transition in social status. Regarding sacrifice not as constituting a class of phenomena having a fixed set of features in common but as a multivocal term applying to phenomena that merely have ‘family resemblances’ in common has the advantage of mitigating somewhat the Euro-centric bias inherent in the work of many of the most influential thinkers on the subject, among them Robertson Smith (1894\1927), Hubert and Mauss (1898), and Durkheim (1912). ‘The Sacrifice’ for this generation of scholars was the central feature of religion, a Judaic– Christian bias still evident as late as 1956, the year in which E. E. Evans-Pritchard published his classic, Nuer Religion. Tellingly, Evans-Pritchard did not identify any word in the Nuer language that unambiguously corresponded to the English ‘sacrifice.’ This lack of correspondence appears widespread. Benveniste (1969, p. 223), for example, could discover no common word for sacrifice in the Indo-European languages.

1. The Terminology of Sacrifice In more elaborate forms than straightforward ritualized gift-giving, sacrifice typically involves a set of four terms. First, there is the sacrificer, the executor of the ritual. Second, there is the sacrifier, the beneficiary of the sacrifice. This may be the executor of the ritual, individual members of the community, or the community in toto. Third, there is the object sacrificed. Although this gift may be anything, ethnographic

descriptions usually emphasize the bloody sacrifice of a living being, in which case blood typically is described as connoting such ideas as fertility, renewal, replenishment,vitality, life force, and empowerment. Access by the sacrifier to these desirables is acquired when this substance is shed in ritual by the act of forcing life out of the victim. Substitution, or the use of a surrogate in cases when the offering is that of a human being, is a common occurrence, so frequently resorted to that some writers, including two who have made important contributions to the topic— de Heusch (1986) and Bloch (1992, p. 32)—consider substitution to be a key feature of sacrificial rituals. Fourth, there is the deity to whom the sacrifice is made.

2. Approaches to the Sacrifice A number of distinguished thinkers have advanced what might be termed ‘approaches’ to the study of sacrifice, which afford insightful, though overlapping, perspectives. Among the most useful are the following five.

2.1 Sacrifice as Gift For Tylor (1871\1913), following Plato, the sacrifice was a gift made to an anthropomorphic divinity, much as a gift might be given to a chief, whose acceptance made the deity indebted to humanity. This approach was popular with nineteenth century scholars, who attributed to the act of sacrificing such motives as expiating sins, obtaining benefits, nourishing the deity, and establishing good relations between human beings and spirits. This theory lays stress on the beliefs of the givers rather than on the ritual performance itself, which in this interpretation is relegated to logically subservient status. This approach is at the same time too broad and too narrow. It is overly broad in that these motives undoubtedly are widespread in many rituals of sacrifice all over the world, yet excessively narrow since sacrificial rituals are employed to do much more than simply offer gifts.

2.2 Sacrifice as Communion Robertson Smith (1894\1927), in contrast to Tylor, granted priority to ritual, a ranking modern ethno13439

Sacrifice graphic fieldwork tends to validate. Robertson Smith’s main point was that early Semitic sacrifice, and by implication sacrifice among nonliterate peoples, was a feast human beings communally shared with their deity. He understood the immolated victim to be the clan totem, an animal that shared in the blood of its human kin. It was also the clan ancestor, which was the clan deity, so in consuming their animal victim members of the community were eating their deity. This act of consumption conferred spiritual power. Later research in the field undermined much of Robertson Smith’s argument, but unquestionably the sacrifice does offer a means by which human beings may conjoin with their deity and establish a relationship, and here Robertson Smith did have insight. He strongly influenced Hubert and Mauss, whose Essai sur la nature et la fonction du sacrifice, which appeared in 1898, remains the basic work on the topic. Like all the studies of the time, it depended entirely upon secondary and tertiary sources rather than original ethnography, and the authors further restricted their sources to Sanskrit and Hebrew texts. To them the most significant feature about the sacrificial feast was that it provided the mechanism by which communion, in the sense of communication between human beings and deity, could be brought about. It was made possible by the fact that the victim represented both sacrifier and divinity, thus breaking down the barrier between the sacred and the profane (a moral contrast that played a major role in their approach). Yet, although the sacrifical act conjoined the sacred and profane, it could also disjoin them since while there were sacrifices that brought the spirit into the human world and made the profane sacred, there were also sacrifices that removed the spirit from the human world and made what had become sacred, profane. The former Hubert and Mauss called rituals of ‘sacralization;’ the latter, rituals of ‘desacralization.’ Even though Evans-Pritchard—who was very much influenced by their ideas—found this distinction among the Nuer (1956, pp. 197–230), it is by no means as universal as they supposed. Hubert and Mauss were intrigued by those sacrifices in which it is the deity that offers his life for the benefit of his worshippers. As they saw it, the exemplary sacrifice was that of a god, who, through unqualified self-abnegation, offers himself to humankind, in this way bestowing life on lesser beings. The most celebrated example of this is the central ritual of the Catholic religion, the Mass, where Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross is re-enacted. In a sacrifice of this nature the relationship between the deity and worshippers raises the question of relative status. From Hubert and Mauss’ perspective the relationship is one of grave imbalance since the deity gives more than it gets. This may appear so, but Valeri (1985, pp. 66–7) has advanced a sophisticated argument designed to prove that sacrifice actually creates a bond of ‘mutual’ 13440

indebtedness between the human and the divine, which makes each party dependent upon the other. This proposition may not be true universally, but support for Valeri’s argument comes from the bear sacrifices carried out by the Ainu of Japan. In these, the immolation of bears brings fertility to the community and nurture to the spirits (Irimoto 1996). Durkheim’s (1912) distinctive contribution, which otherwise relied heavily upon Hubert and Mauss, and Robertson Smith, was to promote the importance of sacrificial activities in bringing about social cohesion and the values that contribute to this cohesion. In Timor, a South Pacific island, a ritual is performed in which a local king is figuratively slain by members of two ethnically different communities (Hicks 1996). The king, who comes from one of these groups, symbolizes their unity as a single social entity at the same time that he symbolizes their local god. In addition, by periodically immolating their king the two groups regenerate their notions of ‘society’ and ‘god’ as epistemological categories.

2.3 Sacrifice as Causality For Hocart (1970, p. 217) the most compelling reason for performing collective rituals was the ‘communal pursuit of fertility.’ A sacrifice is offered to the gods in order that life and the fertility that engenders and sustains it are acquired by the community, a view that focuses upon sacrifice as a practical device to affect empirical transformation. Catholic rituals before the Reformation were thought of in this way; afterwards they were reinterpreted as a symbolic process (Muir 1997). For Catholics the Mass materially transformed the bread into Christ’s body; for Protestants the bread merely represented Christ’s sacrifice.

2.4 Sacrifice as Symbol System More contemporary scholars, such as Valeri (1985), have emphasized the symbolic character of sacrificial behavior, analyzing its structure and isolating its motifs within the wider context of a society’s ideology. In this approach, the array of symbols isolated is then apprehended as a semantic system whose meaning requires decoding. Valeri’s interpretation of Hawaiian sacrifice, for example, requires that sacrificial rituals be understood as a symbolic action ‘that effects transformations of the relationships of sacrifier, god, and group by representing them in public’ (1985, pp. 70–1). Although vulnerable to the criticism that it relies too heavily on the subjective bias of the analyst, this approach has the advantage of enabling sacrificial practices to be understood within a wider social context, at the same time as it allows an analysis of sacrifice to open up a distinctive perspective on society.

Safety, Economics of 2.5 Sacrifice as Catharsis Another approach to sacrifice is to focus on violence. Girard (1972), most notably, has suggested that sacrifice offers a socially controlled, and therefore, socially acceptable, outlet for the aggressive urges of human beings. The typical manner by which this is accomplished is to use a sacrificial victim as a scapegoat. A more recent scholar who has stressed the importance of violence in sacrifice is Bloch (1992), but his approach differs from that of Girard in that for Bloch sacrifice requires violence because human beings need ‘to create the transcendental in religion and politics,’ and that this is attainable through violence done to the victim (Bloch 1992, p. 7). One difficulty with this approach is that behavior that one might arguably class as sacrificial may involve no violence at all.

3. Origins of Sacrifice Sacrificial rituals have an extensive pedigree. One of the earliest for which a reasonably detailed record is available dates from about 3,000 years ago. The Vedic Aryans held sacrifice to be their central religious activity (Flood 1996, pp. 40–1), and it consisted of putting milk, grains of rice and barley, and domesticated animals into a sacred fire that would transport the offerings to supernatural entities. As the Agnicayana, this ritual is still carried out in Kerala, southwest India. Evidence for sacrificial behavior extends further back than Vedic times, to the civilizations of Sumer 5,000 years ago and China 4,000 years ago, and its presence seems accounted for even further in the past. This long history, taken with the widespread practice of sacrifice all over the world, suggests that a case could be made that sacrificial behavior is one of the natural dispositions common to the species Homo sapiens. As Needham (1985, p. 177) has averred for ritual in general, it may be that sacrifice, ‘Considered in its most characteristic features … is a kind of activity—like speech or dancing—that man as a ceremonial animal happens naturally to perform.’ See also: Commemorative Objects; Exchange in Anthropology; Honor and Shame; Religion: Morality and Social Control; Ritual; Trade and Exchange, Archaeology of

Bibliography Benveniste E 1969 Le Vocabulaire des institutions indoeuropeT ennes, I. Economie, parenteT , socieT teT ; II. Pou
oir, droit, religion. Les Editions de Minuit, Paris Bloch M 1992 Prey into Hunter: The Politics of Religious Experience. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Durkheim E 1912\1968 Les Formes eT leT mentaires de la
ie religieuse: le systeZ me toteT mique en Australie. Presse Universitaires de France, Paris

Evans-Pritchard E E 1956 Nuer Religion. Clarendon Press, Oxford, UK Flood G O 1996 An Introduction to Hinduism. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Frazer J G 1922 The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion, Vol. 1. Macmillan, London Girard R 1972 La Violence et le sacreT . Bernard Grasset, Paris de Heusch L 1986 Le Sacrifice dans les religions africaines. Editions Gallimard, Paris Hicks D 1996 Making the king divine: A case study in ritual regicide from Timor. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 2: 611–24 Hocart A M 1970 Kings and Councillors: An Essay in the Comparati
e Anatomy of Human Society. University of Chicago Press, Chicago Hubert H, Mauss H 1898 Essai sur la nature et la fonction du sacrifice. AnneT e sociologique 2: 29–138 Irimoto T 1996 Ainu worldview and bear hunting strategies. In: Pentika$ inen J (ed.) Shamanism and Northern Ecology (Religion and Society 36). Mouton de Gruyter, Berlin, pp. 293–303 Muir E 1997 Ritual in Early Modern Europe. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Needham R 1985 Exemplars. University of California Press, Berkeley, CA Simpson J A, Weiner E S C 1933\1989 Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd. edn. Clarendon Press, Oxford, UK Smith W R 1894\1927 Lectures on the Religion of the Semites, 3rd edn. Macmillan, New York Tylor E B 1871\1913 Primiti
e Culture, 4th edn. Murray, London, Vol. 2 Valeri V 1985 Kinship and Sacrifice: Ritual and Society in Ancient Hawaii (trans. Wissing P). University of Chicago Press, Chicago

D. Hicks

Safety, Economics of The economics of safety is concerned with the causes and prevention of accidents resulting in economic losses. The primary focus is on accidents causing workplace injuries and diseases. The topic is examined using several variants of economic theory. One set of theories applies when there is an ongoing relationship between the party who is generally the source of the accidents and the party who generally bears the costs of the accidents. Negotiations (explicit or implicit) between the parties can provide ex ante economic incentives to reduce accidents. Another set of theories applies when there is no ongoing relationship between the party who causes the accident and the party who suffers the consequences. Ex post financial penalties for the party who caused the harm can deter others from causing accidents.

1. ‘ Pure ’ Neoclassical Economics The neoclassical theory of work injuries is examined in Thomason and Burton (1993). Workplace accidents are undesirable by-products of processes that produce 13441

Safety, Economics of goods for consumption (Oi 1974). Several assumptions are used in the neoclassical analysis of these processes. Employers and workers have an ongoing relationship. Employers maximize profits. Workers maximize utility, not just pecuniary income. Workers at the margin are mobile and possess accurate information concerning the risks and consequences of work injuries. One implication of these assumptions is that employers pay higher wages for hazardous work than for nonhazardous work. On the assumption that accident insurance is not provided by employers or the government, the equilibrium wage for the hazardous work will include a risk premium equal to the expected costs of the injuries, which includes lost wages, medical care, and the disutility caused by the injury. If workers are risk averse, the premium will also include a payment for the uncertainty about who will be injured. The employer has an incentive to invest in safety in order to reduce accidents and thus the risk premium. The firm will make safety investments until the marginal expenditure on safety is equal to the marginal reduction in the risk premium. Since there is a rising marginal cost to investments in safety, equilibrium will occur with a positive value for the risk premium, which means that in equilibrium there will be some work injuries. Variants on neoclassical economics theory can be generated by changing some of the previous assumptions. For example, if all workers purchase actuarially fair insurance covering the full costs of work injuries, they will be indifferent about being injured. Furthermore, if injured, workers will have no incentive to return to work since the insurance fully compensates them for their economic losses. The change in worker behavior resulting from the availability of insurance is an example of the moral hazard problem, in which the insurance increases the quantity of the events being insured against (i.e., the occurrence of injuries and the durations of the resulting disabilities). These variants on neoclassical economics with their implications for employee behavior are discussed in Burton and Chelius (1997). 1.1 E
idence Consistent with the Neoclassical Model There is a burgeoning literature on compensating wage differentials for the risks of workplace death and injury. Ehrenberg and Smith (1996) report that generally studies find industries having the average risk of job fatalities (about 1 per 10,000 workers per year) pay wages that are 0.5 percent to 2 percent higher than the wages for comparable workers in industries with half that level of risk. Viscusi (1993) reviewed 17 studies estimating wage premiums for the risks of job injuries, and 24 studies estimating premiums for the risks of job fatalities. The total amount of risk premiums implied by these various estimates is substantial: probably the upper bound is the Kniesner and Leeth (1995) figure of $200 billion in risk premiums in the US in 1993. 13442

The Viscusi (1993) survey of studies of risk premiums for workplace fatalities included evidence from the United Kingdom (UK), Quebec, Japan, and Australia. More recently, Siebert and Wie (1994) found evidence for risk premiums for work injuries in the UK, and Miller et al. (1997) provided additional evidence on compensating differentials for risk of death in Australia. 1.2 Qualifications Concerning the Neoclassical Theory The model that postulates workplace safety results from risk premiums that provide financial incentives to employers to invest in safety has been challenged. Some critics assert that risk premiums are inadequate because workers lack sufficient information about the risks of work injuries and\or have limited mobility to move to less hazardous jobs. Ehrenberg and Smith (1996) conclude that workers have enough knowledge to form accurate judgments about the relative risks of various jobs. However, Viscusi (1993) refers to a sizable literature in psychology and economics documenting that individuals tend to overestimate low probability events, such as workplace injuries, which could result in inappropriately large risk premiums. Both Ehrenberg and Smith (1996) and Viscusi (1993) argue there is sufficient worker mobility to generate risk premiums. Another challenger to the neoclassical model is Ackerman (1988), who argues that the labor market does not generate proper risk premiums because certain costs resulting from work injuries are not borne by workers but are externalized. The empirical evidence on risk premiums has also been challenged or qualified. Ehrenberg and Smith (1996), for example, conclude that the studies of compensating wage differentials for the risks of injury or death on the job ‘ are generally, but not completely, supportive of the theory. ’ Viscusi (1993) concludes: ‘ The wage-risk relationship is not as robust as is, for example, the effect of education on wages. ’ The most telling attack on the compensating wage differential evidence is by Dorman and Hagstrom (1998), who argue that most studies have been specified improperly. They find that, after controlling for industry-level factors, the only evidence for positive compensating wage differential pertains to unionized workers. For nonunion workers, they argue that properly specified regressions suggest that workers in dangerous jobs are likely to be paid less than equivalent workers in safer jobs. The Dorman and Hagstrom challenge to the previously generally accepted view—that dangerous work results in risks premiums for most workers—is likely to result in new empirical studies attempting to resuscitate the notion of risk premiums. However, even if every empirical study finds a risk premium for workplace fatalities and injuries, the evidence would not conclusively validate the neoclassical economics

Safety, Economics of approach. Ehrenberg (1988) provides the necessary qualification: if there are any market imperfections (such as lack of information or mobility), the ‘ mere existence of some wage differential does not imply that it is a fully compensating one. ’ And if the risk premium is not fully compensating (or is more than fully compensating), then inter alia, the market does not provide the proper incentive to employers to invest in safety. Another qualification concerning the use of risk premiums as a stimulus to safety is that institutional features in a country ’s labor market may aid or impede the generation of risk premiums. In the US, the relative lack of government regulation of the labor market and the relative weakness of unions probably facilitate the generation of risk premiums. In countries like Germany, where unions are relatively strong and apparently opposed to wage premiums for risks, and where labor markets appear to be less flexible than those in the US because of government regulation of the labor market, wages are less likely to reflect underlying market forces that produce risk premiums.

2. Modified Neoclassical Economics and the Old Institutional Economics Some economists rely on a ‘ modified ’ version of neoclassical economics theory that recognizes limited types of government regulation of safety and health are appropriate in order to overcome some of the attributes of the labor market that do not correspond to the assumptions of pure neoclassical economics. These attributes include the lack of sufficient knowledge and mobility by employees, and the possible lack of sufficient knowledge or motivation of employers about the relationship between expenditures on safety and the reduction in risk premiums. The ‘ old institutional economists ’ (OIE) would agree with these critiques of lack of knowledge and mobility, and would also emphasize factors such as the unequal bargaining power of individual workers as another limitation of the labor market. An example of government promulgation of information in order to overcome the lack of knowledge in the labor market is the Occupational Safety and Health Act (OSHAct) Hazard Communication standard, which requires labeling of hazardous substances and notification to workers and customers and which is estimated to save 200 lives per year (Viscusi 1996). (Other aspects of the OSHAct are discussed below.)

2.1

Experience Rating

An example of a labor market intervention that could improve incentives for employers to invest in safety is the use of experience rating in workers ’ compensation programs, which provide medical and cash benefits to

workers injured at work. Firm-level experience rating is used extensively in the workers ’ compensation programs in the US, and is used to some degree in many other countries, including Canada, France, and Germany. Firm-level experience rating determines the workers ’ compensation premium for each firm above a minimum size by comparing its prior benefit payments to those of other firms in the industry. In the pure neoclassical economics model, the introduction of workers ’ compensation with experience rating should make no difference in the safety incentives for employers compared to the incentives provided by the labor market without workers ’ compensation. Under assumptions such as perfect experience rating, risk neutrality by workers, and actuarially fair workers ’ compensation premiums, which are explicated by Burton and Chelius (1997), the risk premium portion of the wage paid by the employer will be reduced by an amount exactly equal to the amount of the workers ’ compensation premium. Also, under these assumptions, the employer has the same economic incentives to invest in safety both before and after the introduction of the workers ’ compensation program. Under an alternative variant of the pure neoclassical economics approach, in which the assumption of perfect experience rating is dropped, the introduction of workers ’ compensation will result in reduced incentives for employers to reduce accidents. In contrast, the OIE approach argues that the introduction of workers ’ compensation with experience rating should improve safety because the limitations of knowledge and mobility and the unequal bargaining power for employees mean that the risk premiums generated in the labor market are inadequate to provide employers the safety incentives postulated by the pure neoclassical economics approach. Commons (1934), a leading figure in the OIE approached, claimed that unemployment is the leading cause of labor market problems, including injuries and fatalities, because slack labor markets undercut the mechanism that generates compensating wage differentials. Commons asserted that experience rating provides employers economic incentives to get the ‘ safety spirit ’ that would otherwise be lacking. The modified neoclassical economics approach also accepts the idea that experience rating should help improve safety by providing stronger incentives to employers to avoid accidents, although they place less emphasis on the role of unemployment in undercutting compensating wage differentials and more emphasis on the failure of employers to recognize the cost savings possible from improved safety without the clear signals provided by experience-rated premiums. A number of recent studies of the workers ’ compensation program provide evidence that should help assess the virtues of the various economic theories. However, the evidence from US studies is inconclusive. One survey of studies of experience rating by Boden (1995) concluded that ‘ research on the safety impacts 13443

Safety, Economics of has not provided a clear answer to whether workers ’ compensation improves workplace safety. ’ In contrast, a recent survey by Butler (1994) found that most recent studies provide statistically significant evidence that experience rating ‘ has had at least some role in improving workplace safety for large firms. ’ Burton and Chelius (1997) sided with Butler. The beneficial effect of experience rating on safety has been found in Canada by Bruce and Atkins (1993) and in France by Aiuppa and Trieschmann (1998). The mildly persuasive evidence that experience rating improves safety is consistent with the positive impact on safety postulated by the OIE approach and the modified neoclassical economists, and is inconsistent with the pure neoclassical view that the use of experience rating should be irrelevant or may even lead to reduced incentives for employers to improve workplace safety.

2.2 Collecti
e Action While the modified neoclassical economists and the OIE largely would agree on the desirability of several prevention approaches, such as the use of experience rating in workers ’ compensation, the OIE endorsed another approach that many modified neoclassical economists would not support, namely the use of collective bargaining and other policies that empower workers. Collective bargaining agreements can minimize unsafe activities or at least explicitly require employers to pay a wage premium for unsafe work. Many agreements also establish safety committees that assume responsibility for certain activities, such as participation in inspections conducted by government officials. If workers are injured, unions can help them obtain workers ’ compensation benefits, thereby increasing the financial incentives for employers to improve workplace safety. The beneficial effects predicted by the OIE approach for these collective efforts appear to be achieved. Several studies, including Weil (1999) concluded that OSHA enforcement activity was greater in unionized firms than in nonunionized firms. Moore and Viscusi (1990) and other researchers found that unionized workers receive larger compensating wage differentials for job risks than unorganized workers. Hirsch et al. (1997) found that ‘ unionized workers were substantially more likely to receive workers ’ compensation benefits than were similar nonunion workers. ’ Experience rating means that these higher benefit payments will provide greater economic incentives for these unionized employers to reduce injuries. There are also safety committees in some jurisdictions that are utilized in nonunionized firms. Burton and Chelius (1997) reviewed several studies involving such committees in the US and Canada, and found limited empirical support for their beneficial effects. Reilly et al. (1995) provided a more positive assessment 13444

for their accomplishments in the UK. These studies provide some additional support for the beneficial role of collective action postulated by the OIE.

3. The New Institutional Economics New institutional economics (NIE) authors generally argue that market forces encourage efficient forms of economic organization without government assistance and that opportunities for efficiency-improving public interventions are rare. This section considers only the Coase theory\transaction costs economics strain of NIE.

3.1 The Coase Theory and Transaction Costs Economics In the absence of costs involved in carrying out market transactions, changing the legal rules about who is liable for damages resulting from an accident will not affect decisions involving expenditures of resources that increase the combined wealth of the parties. The classic example offered by Coase (1988) involves the case of straying cattle that can destroy crops growing on neighboring land. The parties will negotiate the best solution to the size of the herd, the construction of a fence, and the amount of crop loss due to the cattle whether or not the cattle-rancher is assigned liability for the crop damages. Coase recognized that the assumption that there were no costs involved in carrying out transactions was ‘ very unrealistic. ’ According to Coase (1988): In order to carry out a market transaction, it is necessary to discover who it is that one wishes to deal with … and on what terms, to conduct negotiations …, to draw up the contract, to undertake the inspection needed to make sure that the terms of the contract are being observed, and so on. These operations are often … sufficiently costly … to prevent many transactions that would be carried out in a world in which the pricing system worked without cost.

The goal of transactions costs economics is to examine these costs and to determine their effect on the operation of the economy. As scholars of transaction costs have demonstrated, when transactions costs are significant, changing the legal rules about initial liability can affect the allocation of resources.

3.2

E
idence Concerning Changes in Liability Rules

Workplace safety regulation provides a good example of a change in liability rules, since in a relatively short period (1910–20), most US states replaced tort suits (the employer was only responsible for damages if negligent) with workers ’ compensation (the employer

Safety, Economics of is required to provide benefits under a no-fault rule) as the basic remedy for workplace injuries. Evidence from Chelius (1977) ‘ clearly indicated that the death rate declined after workers ’ compensation was instituted as the remedy for accident costs. ’ This result suggests that high transaction costs associated with the determination of fault in negligence suits were an obstacle to achieving the proper incentives to workplace safety, and that the institutional features of workers ’ compensation, including the no-fault principle and experience rating, provided a relatively more efficient approach to the prevention of work injuries. An interesting study that also suggests that institutional features can play a major role in determining the effects of changing liability rules is Fishback (1987). He found that fatality rates in coal mining were generally higher after states replaced negligence law with workers ’ compensation. Fishback suggested that the difference between his general results and those of Chelius might be due to high supervision costs in coal mining in the early 1900s. The transaction economics component of the NIE theory thus appears to provide a useful supplement to neoclassical economics, since institutional features, such as liability rules, can have a major impact on the economic incentives for accident prevention.

4. Law and Economics Law and economics (L&E) theory draws on neoclassical economics and transaction cost economics, but is distinctive in the extent to which it examines legal institutions and legal problems. This section examines the tort law branch of L&E theory, while the next section examines the employment law branch.

4.1 Theoretical Stimulus of Tort Law to Safety Tort law typically is used when one party harms another party, and the parties do not have an ongoing relationship. However, even though workers and employers have a continuing relationship, tort suits were generally used as a remedy for workplace accidents in the US until workers ’ compensation programs were established. When negligence is the legal standard used for tort suits, if the employer has not taken proper measures to prevent accidents and thus is at fault, the employer will be liable for all of the consequences of the injury. The standard for the proper prevention measure was developed by Judge Learned Hand and restated by Posner (1972) as: The judge (or jury) should attempt to measure three things in ascertaining negligence: the magnitude of the loss if an accident occurs; the probability of the accident ’s occurring; and the burden (cost) of taking precautions to prevent it. If

the product of the first two terms, the expected benefits, exceeds the burden of precautions, the failure to take those precautions is negligence.

Posner argued that proper application of this standard would result in economically efficient incentives to avoid accidents. Burton and Chelius (1977) examine some qualifications to this conclusion.

4.2

E
idence on the Tort Law Stimulus to Safety

There are two types of empirical evidence that suggest skepticism is warranted about the stimulus to workplace safety from tort suits. First, tort suits were used as the remedy for workplace injuries in the late 1800s and early 1900s. As previously noted, Chelius (1977) found that the replacement of the negligence remedy with workers ’ compensation led to a general reduction in workplace fatalities. The Fishback (1987) contrary result for a specific industry—coal mining—provides a qualification to this general result. Second, in other areas of tort law, there is a major controversy among legal scholars about whether the theoretical incentives for safety resulting from tort suits actually work. One school of thought is exemplified by Landes and Posner (1987), who state that ‘ although there has been little systematic study of the deterrent effect of tort law, what empirical evidence there is indicates that tort law … deters. ’ An opposing view of the deterrent effects of tort law is provided by Priest (1991), who finds almost no relationship between actual liability payouts and the accident rate for general aviation and states that ‘ this relationship between liability payouts and accidents appears typical of other areas of modern tort law as well, such as medical malpractice and product liability. ’ A study of tort law by Schwartz (1994) distinguished a strong form of deterrence (as postulated by Landes and Posner) from a moderate form of deterrence, in which ‘ tort law provides a significant amount of deterrence, yet considerably less that the economists ’ formulae tend to predict. ’ Schwartz surveyed a variety of areas where tort law is used, including motorist liability, medical malpractice, and product liability, and concluded that that the evidence undermines the strong form of deterrence but provides adequate support for the moderate form of deterrence. As to workers ’ injuries, Schwartz cited the Chelius and Fishback studies and concluded ‘ it is unclear whether a tort system or workers ’ compensation provides better incentives for workplace safety. ’ Burton and Chelius (1997) concluded, based on both the ambiguous historical experience of the impact of workers ’ compensation on workplace safety and the current controversy over the deterrence effect in other areas of tort law, that ‘ the law and economics theory concerning tort law does not provide much assistance in 13445

Safety, Economics of designing an optimal policy for workplace safety and health. ’ Further examinations of the relative merits of workers ’ compensation and the tort system in dealing with workplace accidents are Dewees et al. (1996) and Thomason et al. (1998).

5. Go
ernment Mandate Theory
s. Law and Economics Theory 5.1

The Go
ernment Mandate Theory

The government mandate theory argues that the government promulgation of health and safety standards and enforcement of the standards by inspections and fines will improve workplace safety and health. This is basically a legal theory, although many of the supporting arguments involve reinterpretation or rejection of studies conducted by economists. For example, proponents of the theory object to the evidence on compensating wage differentials and on the deterrent effect of experience rating and object in principle to economists ’ reliance on cost-benefit analysis. Supporters of the theory, such as McGarity and Shapiro (1996), also provide a positive case why OSHA is necessary: OSHA ’s capacity to write safety and health regulations is not bounded by any individual worker ’s limited financial resources. Likewise, OSHA ’s capacity to stimulate an employer to action does not depend upon the employees ’ knowledge of occupation risks or bargaining power.

The government mandate theory would not be endorsed by many economists, including the OIE. Commons and Andrews (1936), for example, criticized at length the punitive approaches that used factory inspectors in the form of policemen, since this turned employers into adversaries with the law. The minimum standards supported by the OIE were those developed by a tripartite commission, involving employers, employees, and the public, rather than standards promulgated by the government. While the OIE theory is, thus, unsympathetic to the government mandate theory, the sharpest attack is derived from the L&E theory.

5.2 The L&E Theory Concerning Go
ernment Regulations L&E scholars make a distinction between mandatory, minimum terms (standards) and those terms that are merely default provisions (or guidelines) that employers and employees can agree to override. Most employment laws, including workplace safety laws, create standards and are thus objectionable to the L&E scholars. 13446

Willborn (1988) articulated the standard economic objections to mandatory terms. Employers will treat newly imposed standards like exogenous wage increases and in the short run will respond by laying off workers. In the long run, employers will try to respond to mandates by lowering the wage. The final wagebenefits-standards employment package will make workers worse off than they were before the imposition of standards—otherwise the employers and workers would have bargaining for the package without legal compulsion.

5.3

E
idence on the Effects of OSHA Standards

The evidence, as reviewed by Burton and Chelius (1997), suggests that the OSHAct has done little to improve workplace safety, thus lending more support to the L&E theory than to the government mandate theory. OSHA ’s ineffectiveness in part may be due to the lack of inspection activity, since the average establishment is only inspected once every 84 years. But the evidence also suggests that allocating additional resources to plant inspections may be imprudent. Smith (1992) concluded, after an exhaustive review of the studies of OSHA inspections, that the evidence ‘ suggests that inspections reduce injuries by 2 percent to 15 percent, ’ although the estimates often are not statistically significant (and thus cannot be distinguished confidently from zero effect). Several studies, including Scholz and Gray (1990) and Weil (1996) provide a more favorable assessment of the OSHA inspection process. However, even Dorman (1996), who supports an aggressive public policy to reduce workplace injuries, provided a qualified interpretation of such evidence: ‘ even the most optimistic reading indicates that … more vigorous enforcement alone cannot close the gap between U.S. safety conditions and those in other OECD countries. ’ In addition to the questionable effectiveness of OSHA inspections, some of the standards promulgated by OSHA have been criticized as excessively stringent. Viscusi (1996) examined OSHA standards using an implicit value of life of $5 million (derived from the compensating wage differential studies) as the standard for an efficient regulation. Four of the five OSHA safety regulations, but only one of the five OSHA health regulations adopted as final rules, had costs per life saved of less than $5 million. This evidence caused Burton and Chelius (1997) to provide a strong critique of the government mandate theory: To be sure, cost-benefit analysis of health standards issued under the OSHAct is not legal, and so those standards that fail the cost-benefit test (considering both the lives saved plus injuries and illnesses avoided) do not violated the letter and presumably the purpose of the law. But to the extent that the rationale offered by the government mandate theorists for regulation of health is that workers lack enough information to make correct decisions and therefore the government is in

Safety, Economics of a better position to make decisions about how to improve workplace health, the evidence on the variability of the cost\benefit ratios for OSHA health standards is disquieting. Rather than OSHA standards reflecting interventions in the marketplace that overcome deficiencies of the marketplace, the explanation of why the stringency of regulation varies so much among industries would appear at best to be a result of technology-based decisions that could well aggravate the alleged misallocation of resources resulting from operation of the market and at worst could reflect relative political power of the workers and employers in various industries.

6. Conclusions This review suggests that understanding the economics of workplace safety involves a rather eclectic mix of theories. Burton and Chelius (1997) were least impressed with the arguments and evidence pertaining to the pure neoclassical economics and the government mandate theories. They concluded that among the other economic theories pertaining to safety, no single theory provides an adequate understanding of the causes and prevention of workplace accidents. Rather, a combination of the theories, though untidy, is needed.

Bibliography Ackerman S 1988 Progressive law and economics—and the new administrative law. Yale Law Journal 98: 341–68 Aiuppa T, Trieschmann J 1998 Moral hazard in the French workers ’ compensation system. Journal of Risk and Insurance 65: 125–33 Boden L 1995 Creating economic incentives: lessons from workers ’ compensation systems. In: Voos P (ed.) Proceedings of the 47th Annual Meeting. Industrial Relations Research Association, Madison, WI Bruce C J, Atkins F J 1993 Efficiency effects of premium-setting regimes under workers ’ compensation: Canada and the United States. Journal of Labor Economics 11: Part 2: S38–S69 Burton J, Chelius J 1997 Workplace safety and health regulations: Rationale and results. In: Kaufman B (ed.) Go
ernment Regulation of the Employment Relationship. 1st edn. Industrial Relations Research Association, Madison, WI Butler R 1994 Safety incentives in workers ’ compensation. In: Burton J, Schmidle T (eds.) 1995 Workers ’ Compensation Year Book. LRP Publications, Horsham, PA Chelius J R 1977 Workplace Safety and Health. American Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research, Washington, DC Coase R H 1988 The Firm, the Market, and the Law. University of Chicago Press, Chicago Commons J R 1934 Institutional Economics: Its Place in Political Economy. Macmillan, New York Commons J R, Andrews J B 1936 Principles of Labor Legislation, 4th edn. MacMillan, New York Dewees D, Duff D, Trebilcock M 1996 Exploring the Domain of Accident Law: Taking the Facts Seriously. Oxford University Press, Oxford Dorman P 1996 Markets and Mortality: Economics, Dangerous Work, and the Value of Human Life. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge

Dorman P, Hagstrom P 1998 Wage compensation for dangerous work revisited. Industrial and Labor Relations Re
iew 52: 116–35 Ehrenberg R G 1988 Workers ’ Compensation, Wages, and the Risk of Injury. In: Burton J (ed.) New Perspecti
es on Workers ’ Compensation. ILR Press, Ithaca, NY Ehrenberg R G, Smith R S 1996 Modern Labor Economics: Theory and Public Policy 6th edn. Addison-Wesley, Reading, MA Fishback P V 1987 Liability rules and accident prevention in the workplace: Empirical evidence from the early twentieth century. Journal of Legal Studies 16: 305–28 Hirsch B T, Macpherson D A, Dumond J M 1997 Workers ’ compensation recipiency in union and nonunion workplaces. Industrial and Labor Relations Re
iew 50: 213–36 Kniesner T, Leeth J 1995 Abolishing OSHA. Regulation 4: 46–56 Landes W M, Posner R A 1987 The Economic Structure of Tort Law. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA McGarity T, Shapiro S 1996 OSHA ’s Critics and Regulatory reform. Wake Forest Legal Re
iew 31: 587–646 Miller P, Mulvey C, Norris K 1997 Compensating differentials for risk of death in Australia. Economic Record 73: 363–72 Moore M J, Viscusi W K 1990 Compensation Mechanisms for Job Risks: Wages, Workers ’ Compensation, and Product Liability. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Oi W Y 1974 On the economics of industrial safety. Law and Contemporary Problems 38: 669–99 Posner R 1972 A theory of negligence. Journal of Legal Studies 1: 29–66 Priest G L 1991 The modern expansion of tort liability: its sources, its effects, and its reform. Journal of Economic Perspecti
es 5: 31–50 Reilly B, Paci P, Holl P 1995 Unions, safety committees and workplace injuries. British Journal of Industrial Relations 33: 275–88 Schwartz G T 1994 Reality in the economic analysis of tort law: does tort law really deter? UCLA Law Re
iew 42: 377–444 Scholz J T, Gray W B 1990 OSHA enforcement and workplace injuries: a behavioral approach to risk assessment. Journal of Risk and Uncertainty 3: 283–305 Siebert S, Wie X 1994 Compensating wage differentials for workplace accidents: evidence for union and nonunion workers in the UK. Journal of Risk and Uncertainty 9: 61–76 Smith R 1992 Have OSHA and workers ’ compensation made the workplace safer? In: Lewin D, Mitchell O, Sherer P (eds.) Research Frontiers in Industrial Relations and Human Resources. Industrial Relations Research Association, Madison, WI Thomason T, Burton J F 1993 Economic effects of workers ’ compensation in the United States: Private insurance and the administration of compensation claims. Journal of Labor Economics 11: Part 2: S1–S37 Thomason T, Hyatt D, Roberts K 1998 Disputes and dispute resolution. In: Thomason T, Burton J, Hyatt D (eds.) New Approaches to Disability in the Workplace. Industrial Relations Research Association, Madison, WI Viscusi W K 1993 The value of risks to life and health. Journal of Economic Literature 31: 1912–46 Viscusi W K 1996 Economic foundations of the current regulatory reform efforts. Journal of Economic Perspecti
es 10: 119–34 Weil D 1996 If OSHA is so bad, why is compliance so good? Rand Journal of Economics 27: 618–40

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Safety, Economics of Weil D 1999 Are mandated health and safety committees substitutes for or supplements to labor unions? Industrial and Labor Relations Re
iew 52: 339–60 Willborn S 1988 Individual employment rights and the standard economic objections: theory and empiricism. Nebraska Legal Re
iew 67: 101–39

J. F. Burton, Jr.

Sample Surveys: Cognitive Aspects of Survey Design Cognitive aspects of survey design refers to a research orientation that began in the early 1980s to integrate methods, techniques, and insights from the cognitive sciences into the continuing effort to render data from sample surveys of human populations more valid and reliable, and to understand systematically the threats to such reliability and validity.

These concerns led to a cross-disciplinary research endeavor that would bring the insights and methods of the cognitive sciences, especially cognitive psychology, to bear on the problems raised by surveys, and that would encourage researchers in the cognitive sciences to use surveys as a means of testing, broadening, and generalizing their laboratory-based conclusions. Recent work in the field has incorporated theories and viewpoints from fields not usually classified as the cognitive sciences, notably linguistics, conversational analysis, anthropology, and ethnography. Described below are some of the practical and theoretical achievements of the movement to date. These include methodological transfers from the cognitive sciences to survey research, the broad establishment of cognitive laboratories in governmental and nongovernmental survey research centers, theoretical formulations that account for many of the mysteries generated by survey responses, and practical applications to the development and administration of on-going surveys. Some references appear at the close describing these achievements more fully and speculating on the future course of the field.

1. Background and History While a sample survey of human beings can be of good and measurable accuracy only if it is accomplished through probability sampling (Sample Sur
eys: The Field and Sample Sur
eys: Methods), probability sampling is only the first step in assuring that a survey is successful in producing results accurate enough for use in predicting elections, for gauging public opinion, for measuring the incidence of a disease or the amount of acreage planted in a crop, or for any of the other myriad of important uses that depend on survey data. Questions must be worded not only in ways that are unbiased, but that are understandable to respondents and convey the same meaning to respondents as was intended by the survey’s author. If the questions refer to the past, they must be presented in ways that help respondents remember the facts accurately and report truthfully. And interviewers must be able to understand respondents’ answers correctly to record and categorize them appropriately. These and other nonsampling issues have been of concern to survey researchers for many decades (e.g., Payne 1951). Researchers were puzzled by the fact that changing the wording slightly in a question, sometimes resulted in a different distribution of answers and sometimes did not; worried that sometimes the context of other questions affected answers to a particular question, and sometimes did not; concerned that sometimes respondents were able to remember things accurately and sometimes were not. In the late 1970s and early 1980s, as survey data came to be used ever more extensively for public policy purposes, concerns for the validity of those data became especially widespread. 13448

2. Methodological Transfers Much work in the field is rooted in a classic information processing model applied to the cognitive tasks in a survey interview. The model suggests that the tasks the respondent must accomplish, in rough order in which they must be tackled (though respondents go back and forth among them), are comprehension\interpretation, retrieval, judgment, and communication. These models have been intertwined with the earlier models of the survey interview as a social interaction (Sudman and Bradburn 1974) through the efforts of such researchers as Clark and Schober (1992) and Sudman et al. (1996) to take into account both the social communication and individual cognitive processes that play a part in the survey interview. Guided by this model, one of the earliest achievements of the movement to study cognitive aspects of survey design was the adoption of some of the methods of the cognitive psychology laboratory for the pretesting of survey questionnaires. In particular, these methods are aimed at insuring that questions are comprehensible to respondents and that the meanings transmitted are those intended by the investigator. They also can point to problems in retrieval and communication. Such cognitive pretesting includes ‘think-aloud protocols,’ in which specially recruited respondents answer the proposed questionnaire aloud to a researcher, and describe, either concurrently with each question or retrospectively at the end of the questionnaire, their thought processes as they attempt to understand the question and to retrieve or construct an answer. Also used is behavioral coding, based on

Sample Sur
eys: Cogniti
e Aspects of Sur
ey Design procedures originally developed by Cannell and coworkers (e.g., Cannell and Oskenberg 1988), which note questions for which respondents ask for clarification or for which their responses are inadequate. Other methods include reviews of questionnaires by cognitively trained experts, the use of focus groups, and for questionnaires that are automated, measures of response latency. Detailed descriptions of these methods and their applicability to detect problems at various stages of the question answering process appear in Sudman et al. (1996), Schwarz and Sudman (1996), and Forsyth and Lessler (1991).

3. Inter
iewer Beha
ior Although survey interviewing began with investigators themselves merely going out and having conversations with respondents, as the survey enterprise aspired to greater scientific respectability and as it became sufficiently large-scale so that many interviewers were needed for any project, standardized interviewing became the norm. Printed questionnaires were to be followed to the letter; interviewers were instructed to answer respondents’ requests for clarification by merely re-reading the question or by saying that the meaning of any term is ‘whatever it means to you.’ While it is probably true that skilled interviewers have always deviated from these rigid standards in the interest of maintaining respondent cooperation and getting valid data, the robot-like interviewer delivering the same ‘stimulus’ to every respondent was considered the ideal. Working with videotapes of interviews for the National Health Interview Survey and for the General Social Survey and using techniques of conversational analysis, Suchman and Jordan (1990) showed that misunderstandings frequently arose because of the exclusion of normal conversational resources from the survey interview, and that these misunderstandings resulted not only in discomfort on the part of respondents, but in data that did not meet the needs of the survey designer. Suchman and Jordan recommended a more collaborative interviewing style, in which interviewer and respondent work together to elicit the respondent’s story and then fill in the questionnaire. Note that this recommendation applies almost exclusively when the information sought is about the respondent’s activities or experiences rather than about his\her attitudes or opinions. Both theoretical and practical advances have followed on these insights. On a theoretical level, several researchers have used variants of the ‘cooperativeness’ principle advanced by Grice (1975) to help explain some of the anomalies that have puzzled survey researchers over the decades. Many are understandable as respondents bringing to the survey interview the communicative assumptions and skills that serve well in everyday life. The maxims of the cooperativeness principle require a participant

in a conversation to be truthful, relevant, informative, and clear (Sudman et al. 1996, p. 63). Thus, for example, it has long been known that respondents are willing to report on their attitudes towards fictitious issues or nonexistent groups, and investigators have taken this willingness as evidence of the gullibility of respondents and perhaps of the futility of trying to measure attitudes at all. But to ‘catch on’ to the ‘trick’ nature of such a question, a respondent would have to assume that the interviewer violated all the maxims of the cooperativeness principle. Parsimony suggests, instead, that the respondent would assume that the interviewer knew what s\he was talking about, and answer accordingly. Several puzzles about context effects, discussed below, also seem understandable in light of Grice’s maxims. On a practical level, freeing interviewers to be more conversational with respondents is not costless; when interviewers explain more, interviews take longer, and are thus more costly in interviewers’ wages and respondents’ patience. Schober and Conrad (e.g., 1997) have embarked on a program of research that has demonstrated that conversational interviewing generates better data than does standardized interviewing when the mappings of the respondent’s experiences onto the survey’s concepts are complicated, but indeed at the cost of longer interviews. These investigators are now experimenting with interviewing styles that fall at several points along the continuum between fully standardized and fully conversational, seeking a point that balances the benefits in accuracy to be gained by a more conversational style with the costs in interview length.

4. Factual Questions
s. Questions about Attitudes or Opinions The distinction between questions that ask respondents to report on facts, usually autobiographical, and those that ask for an attitude or an opinion has been an important one in survey research. Indeed, the explicit origins of the movement to study cognitive aspects of survey design lie in a desire to improve the accuracy of factual reports from respondents; the extension of concern to attitudinal questions came somewhat later, although such a concern was certainly prefigured by the work reported in Turner and Martin (1984). The distinction remains important for interviewer behavior, in the sense that the kinds of conversational interviewing being investigated, are designed to help respondents better comprehend the intent of the question and to recall more accurately their experiences. Interviewer interventions designed for these purposes, when the question is aimed at getting a factual report might well bias the respondent’s answer when the aim of the question is to elicit an attitude or opinion. The distinction is also valid in the sense that the cognitive theories about 13449

Sample Sur
eys: Cogniti
e Aspects of Sur
ey Design autobiographical memory that have been used to understand problems of the recall of factual information are less applicable to attitudes and opinions, and the cognitive techniques that have been developed to aid respondent recall for autobiographical questions are not appropriate for the recall of attitudes or opinions. But in important ways the distinction obscures similarities between the two types of questions, as will be discussed in the section on context effects, below.

4.1 Impro
ing the Accuracy of Factual Reports Very often survey questions ask for the frequency with which a respondent has accomplished a behavior (e.g., visited a doctor) or experienced an event (e.g., had an illness) during a specified time period (usually starting sometime in the past and ending with the date of the interview) called the reference period. Thus the respondent, having understood what events or experiences that should be included in the report, has a two-fold task: he or she must recall the events or experiences, and also determine whether those events or experiences fell inside the reference period. Theories from the cognitive sciences about how experiences are stored in autobiographical memory and retrieved therefrom have been marshaled to understand both phases of the respondent’s recall task and to improve their accuracy. In a phenomenon called ‘telescoping,’ respondents are known often to move events or experiences forward in time, reporting them as falling within the reference period although in fact they occurred earlier. One of the earliest contributions to the literature on cognitive aspects of survey design was the proposal of a technique dubbed ‘landmarking’ to control telescoping (Loftus and Marburger 1983). Here, rather than inquiring about the last six months or the last year, a respondent is supplied with (or is asked to supply) a memorable date, and then is asked about events or experiences since that date. The related concept of bounding is also useful in controlling telescoping. In a panel survey, in which respondents are interviewed repeatedly at regular intervals, informing them of the events or experiences reported at the last interview will prevent such events or experiences from being placed in the time period between the previous interview and the current one. An analogous technique useable in a single interview is the two-time-frame procedure in which the respondent is first asked the report events or experiences during a long reference period (e.g., the last 6 months) and then for a shorter one that is really of interest to the investigator (e.g., the last 2 months). This technique both seems to relieve the pressure on respondents to report socially desirable events or experiences and to stress the interviewer’s interest in correct dating, encouraging respondents to strive for greater ac13450

curacy. A theoretical explanation of telescoping, taking into account the workings of memory for the storage of timing and the effects of rounding to culturally stereotypical values (e.g., 7 days, 10 days, 30 days), is provided by Hutenlocher et al. (1990). The task of counting or estimating the number of events or experiences in the reference period can also provide a challenge to the respondent. Issues of frequency regularity and similarity influence whether the respondent is likely to actually count the instances or to employ an estimation strategy, as well as influencing whether counting or estimation is likely to be more accurate. In general, respondents are more likely to retrieve from memory and count events or experiences if their number is few and to estimate if their number is large. But regular events (e.g., going to the dentist every 6 months) and similar events (e.g., trips to the grocery store) are more likely to be estimated. And investigators have recently found that estimation (perhaps by retrieving a rate and applying that rate to the length of the reference period) is usually more accurate, than the attempt to retrieve and count regular, similar events or experiences. For a full discussion of these issues, see Sudman et al. (1996).

4.2 Context Effects Context effects occur when the content of the questions preceding a particular question (or even following that question in a self-administered questionnaire in which the respondent is free to return to earlier questions after reading later ones) influence how some respondents answer that question. Our understanding of the term has been broadened recently to include also the effects on the distribution of responses of the response categories offered in a closed-ended question. Investigators have used the maxims of Grice’s cooperativeness principle to approach a systematic understanding of these effects, which have seemed mysterious for many years. Full treatments of these issues may be found in Sudman et al. (1996) and Tourangeau (1999); of necessity only some selected findings can be presented here. A pair of puzzling context effects that have fascinated researchers for years are assimilation effects and contrast effects. An assimilation effect occurs when the content of the preceding items moves the responses to the target item in the direction of the preceding items; a contrast effect when the movement is in the opposite direction. These effects can now be understood through the inclusion\exclusion model of the judgment process in survey responding, proposed by Schwarz and Bless (1992). The model holds that when a respondent has to make a judgment about a target stimulus, s\he must construct a cognitive representation, not only of the target stimulus, but also of a standard with which to compare the target

Sample Sur
eys: Cogniti
e Aspects of Sur
ey Design stimulus. To construct these representations respondents must retrieve information from memory; since not all information in memory can be retrieved, respondents retrieve only that which is most easily accessible. And information can be accessible either because it is ‘chronically’ accessible or because it is temporarily accessible; it is the temporary accessibility of information that is affected by the context of the question. Positive temporarily accessible information supplied by the context and included in the representation of the target will render the judgment of the target more positive: negative context information thus included will render the judgment more negative. Both these processes produce assimilation effects. Contrast effects are created when the context suggests that information be excluded from the representation of the target, or included in the representation of the standard to which the target is to be compared. For example, Schwarz and Bless (1992) were able to manipulate the frequency of positive evaluations of a political party by using a reference to a popular politician in a preceding question. They were able to create an assimilation effect, resulting in more positive evaluations, by encouraging respondents to include the politician in their representations of the party (by having them recall that the politician had been a member of the party). They were also able to create a contrast effect, resulting in less positive evaluations of the political party, by encouraging respondents to exclude the politician from their representation of the party (by having them recall that his present position took him out of party politics). The model predicts inclusion of more information when the target is a general question, thus encouraging assimilation effects; it also predicts contrast effects when the target is narrow. Thus, a preceding question about marital happiness seems to result in higher reports of general happiness for those who are happily married, but lower reports of general happiness for those who are unhappy in their marriages. This influence of the preceding question can be eliminated by having respondents see the questions about marital happiness and general happiness as part of a single unit (either by an introduction that links the two questions or by a typographical link on a printed questionnaire); then, in obedience to the conversational maxim that speakers should present new information, respondents exclude their marital happiness from their evaluation of their general happiness. Similar recourse to conversational maxims helps explain the influence of the response alternatives presented in closed answer questions on the distribution of responses. For example, Schwarz et al. (1985) found that 37.5 percent of respondents reported watching TV for more than two and a half hours a day when the response scale ranged from ‘up to 2" hours’ # to ‘more than 4" hours,’ but only 16.2 percent reported # watching more than two and a half hours a day when the response scale ranged from ‘up to " hour’ to ‘more #

than 2" hours.’ Respondents take the response scales # to be conversationally informative about what typical TV watching habits are and calibrate their report accordingly.

5. Some Achie
ements of the Mo
ement to Study Cogniti
e Aspects of Sur
eys 5.1 The Impact of Theories Perhaps the most profound effect of the movement to study cognitive aspects of survey design is the introduction of theory into the research area. There has been space above to present only a few of the many such theoretical advances, but their utility should be clear. For example, consulting the maxims of cooperativeness in conversation gives us a framework for predicting and preventing response effects. In the same sense, the inclusion\exclusion model, much more fully developed than is presented here, makes predictions for what to expect from various manipulations of question ordering and content. These predictions offer guidance for the experimental advance of the research domain, and their testing systematically advances our knowledge, both of the phenomena and of the applicability of the theory.

5.2 The Cogniti
e Laboratories and Their Impact Cognitive interviews in laboratory settings have become standard practice in several US government agencies (including the National Center for Health Statistics, the Bureau of Labor Statistics, and the Census Bureau), as well as in government agencies around the world, and at many academic and commercial survey organizations. Work in these laboratories supplements the usual large-scale field pretests of surveys. For illustrative purposes it is worth describing two major efforts at US government agencies. The Current Population Survey (CPS) is a largescale government survey, sponsored by the Bureau of Labor Statistics and carried out by the Census Bureau. From interviews with some 50,000 households monthly are derived major government statistical series, including the unemployment rate. In the early 1990s the CPS underwent its decennial revision, this time using the facilities of the government cognitive laboratories as well as traditional field testing of proposed innovations. In particular, this research found that the ordering and wording of the key questions regarding labor force participation caused some respondents to report themselves as out of the labor force when in fact they were either working part time or looking for work. It also found that the concept of layoff, which the CPS takes to mean 13451

Sample Sur
eys: Cogniti
e Aspects of Sur
ey Design temporary furlough from work with a specific date set for return, was not interpreted that way by respondents. Respondents seemed to understand ‘on layoff’ as a polite term for ‘fired.’ Appropriate revision of these questions, followed by careful field testing and running the new and old versions in parallel for some months resulted in estimates of the unemployment rate in which policy makers and administrators can have greater confidence. More details can be found in Norwood and Tanur (1994). The US Decennial Census has always asked for a racial characterization of each resident. Originally designed to distinguish whites (mostly free) from blacks (mostly slaves) for purposes of counting for apportionment (the US Constitution originally mandated that a slave be counted as 3\5 of a man), the uses to which answers to the race identification question was put evolved over time. Civil Rights legislation starting in the 1960s designated protected groups, and it thus became important to know the population of such groups. At the same time, individuals were becoming both more conscious of their racial selfidentification and less willing to be pigeonholed into a small set of discrete categories, especially as more individuals were self-identifying with more than one racial group. The 1990 Census asked two questions in this general area—one on racial identity followed by one on Hispanic ethnic identification. Experimental work (Martin et al. 1990) indicated that the ordering of these questions mattered to respondents. For example, when the Hispanic ethnicity question appeared first, fewer people chose ‘other’ as their racial category. This and other research made a convincing case that the complexity of Americans’ racial and ethnic self-identification needed a more complex set of choices on the Census form. A 4-year program of research resulted in the conclusion that allowing respondents to choose as many racial categories as they believe apply to them is a solution superior to the provision of a multiracial category (see Tucker et al. 1996). (For more details on this and other census research see Censuses: History and Methods.) The 2000 Decennial Census allowed respondents to choose as many racial categories as they wished; at this writing it is not yet known what proportion of the population took advantage of that opportunity, or the effects those choices will have on the analyses of the data.

6. Conclusions The movement to study cognitive aspects of surveys has thus given us some theoretical insights and practical approaches. Ideally, we could hope for a theory of the survey designing and responding process, but we are still far from that goal, and may perhaps never be able to attain it. But the frameworks so far provided offer clear guidance of how to proceed in an effort to reach systematic understanding. Far fuller accounts of the results of the movement to study 13452

cognitive aspects of survey design and ideas of future directions can be found in Sirken et al. (1999a), Sirken et al. (1999b), Sudman et al. (1996), and Tanur (1992). See also: Probability: Formal; Probability: Interpretations; Sample Surveys, History of; Sample Surveys: Methods; Sample Surveys: Model-based Approaches; Sample Surveys: Nonprobability Sampling; Sample Surveys: Survey Design Issues and Strategies; Sample Surveys: The Field

Bibliography Cannel C F, Oskenberg L 1988 Observation of behavior in telephone interviews. In: Groves R M, Biemer P B, Lyberg L E, Massey J T, Nichols II W L, Waksberg J (eds.) Telephone Sur
ey Methodology. Wiley, New York Clark H H, Schober M F 1992 Asking questions and influencing answers. In: Tanur J. (ed.) Questions about Questions: Inquiries into the Cogniti
e Bases of Sur
eys. Sage, New York Forsyth B H, Lessler J 1991 Cognitive laboratory methods: A taxonomy. In: Biemer P, Groves R M, Lyberg L E, Mathiowetz N, Sudman S (eds.) Measurement Errors in Sur
eys. Wiley, New York Grice H P 1975 Logic and conversation. In: Cole P, Morgan J L (eds.) Syntax and Semantics, Vol 3: Speech Acts. Academic Press, New York Hippler H J, Schwarz N, Sudman S (eds.) 1987 Social Information Processing and Sur
ey Methodology. SpringerVerlag, New York Huttenlocher J, Hedges L V, Bradburn N M 1990 Reports of elapsed time: Bounding and rounding processes in estimation. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition 16: 196–213 Loftus E F, Marburger W 1983 Since the eruption of Mt. St. Helens, did anyone beat you up? Improving the accuracy of retrospective reports with landmark events. Memory and Cognition 11: 114–20 Martin E, Demaio T J, Campanelli P C 1990 Context effects for census measures of race and Hispanic origin. Public Opinion Quarterly 54: 551–66 Norwood J L, Tanur J M 1994 Measuring unemployment in the nineties. Public Opinion Quarterly 58: 277–94 Payne S L 1951 The Art of Asking Questions. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Schober M F, Conrad F G 1997 Does conversational interviewing reduce survey measurement error? Public Opinion Quarterly 61: 576–602 Schwarz N, Bless H 1992 Constructing reality and its alternatives: Assimilation and contrast effects in social judgment. In: Martin L L, Tesser A. (eds.) The Construction of Social Judgment. Erlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ Schwarz N, Hippler H J, Deutsch B, Strack F 1985 Response categories: Effects on behavioral reports and comparative judgments. Public Opinion Quarterly 49: 388–95 Schwarz N, Sudman S (eds.) 1996 Answering Questions: Methodology for Determining Cogniti
e and Communicati
e Processes in Sur
ey Research. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco Sinaiko H, Broedling L A (eds.) 1976 Perspecti
es on Attitude Assessment Sur
eys and their Alternati
es. Pendleton, Champaign, IL Sirken M G, Herrmann D J, Schechter S, Schwarz N, Tanur J M, Tourangeau R (eds.) 1999a Cognition and Sur
ey Research. Wiley, New York

Sample Sur
eys, History of Sirken M G, Jabine T, Willis G, Martin E, Tucker C (eds.) 1999b A New Agenda for Interdisciplinary Sur
ey Research Methods: Proceedings of the CASM II Seminar. US Department of Healthy and Human Services, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Center for Health Statistics, Hyattsville, MD Suchman L, Jordan B 1990 Interactional troubles in face-to-face survey interviews. Journal of the American Statistical Association 85: 232–53 Sudman S, Bradburn N M 1974 Response Effects in Sur
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iew and Synthesis. Aldine, Chicago Sudman S, Bradburn N M, Schwarz N 1996 Thinking About Answers: The Application of Cogniti
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ey Research. Wiley, New York Tucker C, McKay R, Kojetin B, Harrison R, de al Puente M, Stinson L, Robison E 1996 Testing methods of collecting racial and ethnic information: Results of the Current Population Survey Supplement on Race and Ethnicity. Bureau of Labor Statistics, Statistical Notes, No. 40 Turner C F, Martin E (eds.) 1984 Sur
eying Subjecti
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J. M. Tanur

Sample Surveys, History of Sampling methods have their roots in attempts to measure the characteristics of a nation’s population by using only a part instead of the whole population. The movement from the exclusive use of censuses to the at least occasional use of samples was slow and laborious. Two intertwined intellectual puzzles had to be solved before the move was complete. The first such puzzle was whether it is possible to derive valid information about a population by examining only a portion thereof (the ‘representative’ method). And the second puzzle concerns the method for choosing that portion. Issues of choice themselves fall into two categories: the structuring of the population itself in order to improve the accuracy of the sample, and whether to select the units for inclusion by purposive or random methods. This article considers the development of methods for the sampling of human populations. We begin by describing two antecedents of modern survey methods—the development of government statistics and censuses and the general development of statistical methodology, especially for ratio estimation. Then we deal with the movement from censuses to sample surveys, examining the debate over representative methods and the rise of probability sampling, including the seminal 1934 paper of Jerzy Neyman. We describe the impact in the United States of the results

obtained by Neyman on sample surveys and the contributions of statisticians working in US government statistical agencies. We end with a brief description of the subsequent establishment of random sampling and survey methodology more broadly and examine some history of the movement from the study of the design of sampling schemes to the study of other issues arising in the surveying of human populations.

1. Antecedents of Modern Sample Sur
ey Methods In order to determine facts about their subjects or citizens, and more often about their number, governments have long conducted censuses. Thus, one set of roots of sample survey methodology is intertwined with the history of methods for census-taking. The origins of the modern census are found in biblical censuses described in the Old Testament (e.g., see the discussions in Duncan (1984) and Madansky (1986) as well as in censuses carried out by the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, Japanese, Persians, and Romans (Taeuber (1978)). For most practical purposes we can skip from biblical times to the end of the eighteenth century and the initiation of census activities in the United States of America, even though there is some debate as to whether Canada, Sweden, or the United States should be credited with originating the modern census (Willcox 1930) (see Censuses: History and Methods). Another antecedent of sampling lies in the problem of estimating the size of a population when it is difficult or impossible to conduct a census or complete enumeration. Attempts to solve this problem even in the absence of formal sampling methods were the inspiration of what we now know as ratio estimation. These ideas emerged as early as the seventeenth century. For example, John Graunt used the technique to estimate the population of England from the number of births and some assumptions about the birth rate and the size of families. Graunt’s research, later dubbed political arithmetic, was based on administrative records (especially parish records) and personal observation, as in his seminal work, Natural and Political Obser
ations Made Upon the Bills of Mortality, published in 1662. To accomplish what Graunt did by assumption, others looked to hard data from subsets of a population. Thus, Sir Frederick Morton Eden, for example, found the average number of people per house in selected districts of Great Britain in 1800. Using the total number of households in Great Britain from tax rolls (and allowing for those houses missing from the rolls), Eden estimated the population of Great Britain as nine million, a figure confirmed by the first British census of 1801 (Stephan (1948). Even earlier, in 1765 and 1778, civil servants published population estimates for France using an 13453

Sample Sur
eys, History of enumeration of the population in selected districts and counts of births, deaths, and marriages, for the country as a whole (see Stephan (1948). It was Pierre Simon de Laplace, however, who first formally described the method of ratio estimation during the 1780s, and he then employed it in connection with a sample survey he initiated to estimate the population of France as of September 22, 1802. He arranged for the government to take a sample of administrative units (communes), in which the total population, y, and the number of registered births in the preceding year, x, were measured. Laplace then estimated the total population of France by Yp l Xy\x, where X was the total number of registered births. Laplace was the first to estimate the asymptotic bias and variance of Yp , through the use of a superpopulation model for the ratio p l y\x (see Laplace (1814)). Cochran (1978) describes this derivation and links it to results which followed 150 years later. Quetelet later applied the ratio estimation approach in Belgium in the 1820s but abandoned it following an attack by others on some of the underlying assumptions (see Stigler 1986, pp. 162–6).

2. From Censuses to Sur
eys The move from censuses to sample surveys to measure the characteristics of a nation’s population was slow and laborious. Bellhouse (1988), Kruskal and Mosteller (1980), and Seng (1951) trace some of this movement, especially as it was reflected in the discussions regarding surveys that took place at the congresses of the International Statistical Institute (ISI). The move succeeded when investigators combined random selection methods with the structuring of the population and developed a theory for relating estimates from samples, however structured, to the population itself. As early as the 1895 ISI meeting, Kiaer (1896) argued for a ‘representative method’ or ‘partial investigation,’ in which the investigator would first choose districts, cities, etc., and then units (individuals) within those primary choices. The choosing at each level was to be done purposively, with an eye to the inclusion of all types of units. That coverage tenet, together with the large sample sizes recommended at all levels of sampling, was what was judged to make the selection representative. Thus the sample was, approximately, a ‘miniature’ of the population. Kiaer used systematic sampling in his 1895 survey of workers as a means of facilitating special tabulations from census schedules for a study of family data in the 1900 Norwegian census. Kiaer actually introduced the notion of random selection in his description of this work by noting that at the lowest level of the sample structure ‘the sample should be selected in a haphazard and random way, so that a sample selected in this manner would turn out in the same way as would have been the case 13454

had the sample been selected through the drawing of lots … ’ (Kiaer 1897, p. 39) The idea of less than a complete enumeration was opposed widely, and Kiaer presented arguments for sampling at ISI meetings in 1897, 1901, and 1903. Lucien March, in a discussion of Kiaer’s paper at the 1903 meeting, formally introduced the concepts of simple random sampling without replacement and simple cluster sampling, although not using these names (Bellhouse 1988). Arthur Lyon Bowley did a number of empirical studies on the validity of random sampling, motivated at least in part by a 1912 paper by Franicis Ysidro Edgeworth (1912). Bowley used large sample normal approximations (but did not conceptualize what he was doing as sampling from a finite population) to actually test the notion of representativeness. Then, he carried out a 1912 sample survey on poverty in Reading, in which he drew the respondents at random (see Bowley 1913), although he appears to have equated simple random sampling with systematic sampling (Bellhouse 1988). At about the same time, in what appears to be an independent line of discovery, Tchouproff and others were overseeing the implementation of sample survey methods in Russia, especially during the First World War and the period immediately following it. This work was partially documented after the Russian Revolution in Vestnik Statistiki, the official publication of the Central Statistical Administration (Zarkovic 1956, 1962). Even though there is clear evidence that Tchouproff had developed a good deal of the statistical theory for random sampling from finite populations during this period (see Seneta 1985), whether he actually implemented forms of random selection in these early surveys is unclear. He later published the formulae for the behavior of sample estimates under simple random sampling and stratified random sampling from finite populations in Tchouproff (1918a, 1918b, 1923a, 1923b). In a seemingly independent development of these basic ideas for sampling in the context of his work on agricultural experiments, Neyman in Splawa-Neyman (1923) described them in the form of the drawing of balls without replacement from an urn. In the resulting 1925 paper, Splawa-Neyman (1925) gave the basic elements of the theory for sampling from finite populations and its relationship with sampling from infinte populations. These results clearly overlapped those of Tchouproff, and two years later following his death, his partisans took Neyman to task for his lack of citation to the Russian work as well as to earlier work of others (see Fienberg and Tanur 1995, 1996) for a discussion of the controversy). By 1925, the record of the ISI suggests that the representative method was taken for granted, and the discussions centered around how to accomplish representativeness and how to measure the precision of sample-based estimates, with the key presentations

Sample Sur
eys, History of being made by Bowley (1926) and in the same year by the Danish statistician Adolph Jensen. Notions of clustering and stratification were put forward, and Bowley presented a theory of proportionate stratified sampling as well as the concept of a frame, but purposive sampling was still the method of choice. It was not until Gini and Galvani made a purposive choice of which returns of an Italian census to preserve, and found that districts chosen to represent the country’s average on seven variables were, in that sense, unrepresentative on other variables, that purposive sampling was definitively discredited (Gini 1928, Gini and Galvani 1929).

3. Neyman’s 1934 Paper on Sampling In their work on the Italian census, Gini and Galvani seemed to call into question the accuracy of sampling. Neyman took up their challenge in his classic 1934 paper presented before the Royal Statistical Society, ‘On the two different aspects of the representative method.’ In it he compared purposive and random sampling, and concluded that it wasn’t sampling that was problematic but rather Gini and Galvani’s purposive selection. Elements of synthesis were prominent in the paper as well. Neyman explicitly uncoupled clustering and purposive sampling, saying, ‘In fact the circumstance that the elements of sampling are not human individuals, but groups of these individuals, does not necessarily involve a negation of the randomness of the sampling’ (1952, p. 571). He calls this procedure ‘random sampling by groups’ and points out that, although Bowley did not consider it theoretically, he used it in practice in London, as did O. Anderson in Bulgaria. Neyman also combined stratification with clustering to form ‘random stratified sampling by groups,’ and he provided a method for deciding how best to allocate samples across strata (optimal allocation). The immediate effect of Neyman’s paper was to establish the primacy of the method of stratified random sampling over the method of purposive selection, something that was left in doubt by the 1925 ISI presentations by Jensen and Bowley. But the paper’s longer-term importance for sampling was the consequence of Neyman’s wisdom in rescuing clustering from the clutches of those who were the advocates of purposive sampling and integrating it with stratification in a synthesis that laid the groundwork for modern-day multistage probability sampling. Surprisingly, for many statisticians the memorable parts of Neyman’s paper were not these innovations in sampling methodology but Neyman’s introduction of general statistical theory for point and interval estimation, especially the method of confidence intervals (see Estimation: Point and Inter
al and Frequentist Inference).

As pathbreaking as Neyman’s paper was, a number of its results had appeared in an earlier work by Tschuprow (1923a 1923b), in particular the result on optimal allocation in stratified sampling (see Fienberg and Tanur 1995, 1996 for discussions of this point). The method was derived much earlier, by the Danish mathematician Gram (1883) in a paper dealing with calculations for the cover of a forest based on a sample of trees. Gram’s work has only recently been rediscovered and seems not to have been accessible to either Tchouproff or Neyman. Neyman provided the recipe for others to follow and he continued to explain its use in convincing detail to those who were eager to make random sampling a standard diet for practical consumption (e.g., see Neyman 1952 for a description based on his 1937 lectures on the topic at the US Department of Agriculture Graduate School, as discussed below).

4. The De
elopment of Random Sampling in the United States One might have thought that the resolution of the controversy over the representative method and the articulation of the basic elements of a theory of sample surveys by Neyman would have triggered extensive application of random sampling throughout the world. Surprisingly, this was not the case. With some notable exceptions, for example, in England (see Cochran 1939 and Yates 1946) and India, the primary application occurred in the United States and this led to a spate of new and important methodological developments. As late as 1932, however, there were few examples of probability sampling anywhere in the US federal government (Duncan and Shelton (1978) and the federal statistical agencies had difficulty responding to the demand for statistics to monitor the effects of the programs of President Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal. In 1933, the American Statistical Association (ASA) set up an advisory committee that grew into the Committee on Government Statistics and Information Services (COGSIS), sponsored jointly by ASA and the Social Science Research Council. COGSIS helped to stimulate the use of probability sampling methods in various parts of the Federal government, and it encouraged employees of statistical agencies to carry out research on sampling theory. For example, to establish a technical basis for unemployment estimates, COGSIS, and the Central Statistical Board which it helped to establish, organized an experimental Trial Census of Unemployment as a Civil Works Administration project in three cities, using probability sampling, and carried out in late 1933 and early 1934. The positive results from this study led in 1940 to the establishment of the first large-scale, ongoing sample survey on employment and unemployment using probability sampling methods. This survey later 13455

Sample Sur
eys, History of became known as the Current Population Survey and it continues to the present day. Another somewhat indirect outcome of the COGSIS emphasis on probability sampling took place at the Department of Agriculture Graduate School where Deming, who recognized the importance of Neyman’s 1934 paper, invited Neyman to present a series of lectures in 1937 on sampling and other statistical methods (Neyman (1952). These lectures had a profound impact on the further development of sampling theory not simply in agriculture, but across the government as well as in universities. Among those who worked on the probabilitysampling-based trial Census of Unemployment at the Bureau of the Census was Hansen, who was then assigned with a few others to explore the field of sampling for other possible uses at the Bureau, and went on to work on the 1937 sample Unemployment Census. After working on the sample component of the 1940 decennial census (under the direction of Deming), Hansen worked with others to redesign the unemployment survey based on new ideas on multistage probability samples and cluster sampling (Hansen and Hurwitz 1942, 1943). They expanded and applied their approach in various Bureau surveys, often in collaboration and interaction with others, and this effort culminated in 1953 with the publication of a two-volume compendium of theory and methodology (Hansen et al. 1953a, 1953b). Cochran’s (1939) paper, written in England and independently of the US developments, is especially notable because of its use of the analysis of variance in sampling settings and the introduction of superpopulation and modeling approaches to the analysis of survey data. In the 1940s, as results from these two separate schools appeared in various statistical journals, we see some convergence of ideas and results. The theory of estimation in samples with unequal probabilities of selection also emerged around this time (see Horvitz and Thompson 1952, Hansen et al. 1985) (see Sample Sur
eys: Methods). Statisticians have continued to develop the theoretical basis of alternative methods of probability sampling and statistical inference from sampling data over the past fifty years (see, e.g., Rao and Bellhouse 1990, Sa$ rndal et al. 1992). The issue of statistical inference for models from survey data remains controversial, at least for those trained from a traditional finite sampling perspective.

Paul Lazarsfeld, Rensis Likert, William Ogburn, and Samuel Stouffer (e.g., see Stephan 1948, Converse 1987 for a discussion). Stouffer actually spent several months in England in 1931–32, and learned about sampling and other statistical ideas from Bowley, Karl and Egon Pearson, and R. A. Fisher. He then participated in the Census of Unemployment at the Bureau of the Census. Market research and polling trace their own prehistory to election straw votes collected by newspapers, dating back at least to the beginning of the nineteenth century. Converse (1987) points out, however, a more serious journalistic base; election polls were taken and published by such reputable magazines as the Literary Digest (which had gained a reputation for accuracy before the 1936 fiasco). Then, as now, election forecasting was taken as the acid test of survey validity. A reputation for accuracy in ‘calling’ elections was thought to spill over to a presumption of accuracy in other, less verifiable areas. There was a parallel tradition in market research, dating back to just before the turn of the twentieth century, attempting to measure consumers’ product preferences and the effectiveness of advertising. It was seen as only a short step from measuring the opinions of potential consumers about products to measuring the opinions of the general public about other objects, either material or conceptual. By the mid-1930s there were several well-established market research firms. Many of them conducted election polls in 1936 and achieved much greater accuracy than did the Literary Digest. It was the principals of these firms (e.g., Archibald Crossley, George Gallup, and Elmo Roper) who put polling—election, public opinion, and consumer—on the map in the immediate pre-World War II period. The polling and market research surveys of Crossley, Gallup, Roper, and others were based on a sampling method involving ‘quota controls,’ but did not involve random sampling. Stephan (1948) observed the close link between their work and the method of purposive sampling that had gained currency much earlier in government and academic research circles, but which by the 1930s had been supplanted by random sampling techniques.

5. Market Research and Polling

The 1940s saw a rapid spread of probability sampling methods to a broad array of government agencies. It was, however, only after the fiasco of the 1948 presidential pre-election poll predictions (Mosteller et al. 1949) that market research firms and others shifted towards probability sampling. Even today many organizations use a version of probability sampling with quotas (Sudman 1967).

The 1930s, and especially the period after World War II, however, saw a flowering of survey methodology in market research and polling, as well as in the social sciences more broadly. Initial stimulation came from a number of committees at the Social Science Research Council and social scientists such as Hadley Cantril, 13456

6. From Sampling Theory to the Study of Nonsampling Error

Sample Sur
eys, History of Amidst the flurry of activity on the theory and practice of probability sampling during the 1940s, attention was being focused on issues of nonresponse and other forms of nonsampling error (e.g., see Deming 1944) such as difficulty in understanding questions, or remembering answers, etc.). A milestone in this effort to understand and model nonresponse errors was the development of an integrated model for sampling and nonsampling error in censuses and surveys, in connection with planning for and evaluation of the 1950 census (Hansen et al. (1951). This analysis-of-variance-like model, or variants of it, has served as the basis of much of the work on nonsampling error since (see Linear Hypothesis; Nonsampling Errors). New developments in sampling since the midtwentieth century have to do less with the design of samples and more to do with the structuring of the survey instrument and interview. Thus, there has been a move from face-to-face interviewing to telephone interviewing (with the attendant problems connected with random-digit dialing), and then to the use of computers to assist in interviewing. Nonsampling errors continue to be studied broadly, often under the rubric of cognitive aspects of survey design (see Nonsampling Errors; Sample Sur
eys: Cogniti
e Aspects of Sur
ey Design). See also: Censuses: History and Methods; Government Statistics; Sample Surveys: Methods; Sample Surveys: Survey Design Issues and Strategies; Sample Surveys: The Field; Social Survey, History of; Statistical Methods, History of: Post-1900; Statistical Systems: Censuses of Population

Bibliography Bellhouse D 1988 A brief history of random sampling methods. In: Krishnaiah P, Rao C (eds.) Handbook of Statistics, Vol. 6. North Holland, Amsterdam, pp. 1–14 Bowley A 1913 Working-class households in Reading. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society 76: 672–701 Bowley A 1926 Measurement of the precision attained in sampling. Bulletin of the International Statistical Institute 22(1): 6–62 Cochran W 1939 The use of the analysis of variance in enumeration by sampling. Journal of the American Statistical Association 128: 124–35 Cochran W G 1978 Laplace’s ratio estimator. In: David H (ed.) Contributions to Sur
ey Sampling and Applied Statistics: Papers in Honor of H. O. Hartley. Academic Press, New York, pp. 3–10 Converse J 1987 Sur
ey Research in the United States: Roots and Emergence 1890–1960. University of California Press, Berkeley, CA Deming W 1944 On errors in surveys. American Sociological Re
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Duncan O 1984 Notes on Social Measurement. Sage, New York Edgeworth F Y 1912 On the use of the theory of probabilities in statistics relating to society. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society 76: 165–93 Fienberg S, Tanur J 1995 Reconsidering Neyman on experimentation and sampling: Controversies and fundamental contributions. Probability and Mathematical Statistics 15: 47–60 Fienberg S, Tanur J 1996 Reconsidering the fundamental contributions of Fisher and Neyman on experimentation and sampling. International Statistical Re
iew 64: 237–53 Gini C 1928 Une application de la me! thode repre! sentative aux mate! riaux du dernier recensement de la population italienne (1er de! cembre 1921). Bulletin of the International Statistical Institute 23(2): 198–215 Gini C, Galvani L 1929 Di una applicazione del metodo rappresentative all’ultimo censimento italiano della popolazione (1m Decembri 1921). Annali di Statistica 6(4): 1–107 Gram J 1883 About calculation of the mass of a forest cover by means of test trees (in Danish). Tidsskrft for Sko
brug 6: 137–98 Hansen M, Dalenius T, Tepping B 1985 The development of sample surveys of finite populations. In: Atkinson A, Fienberg S (eds.) A Celebration of Statistics: The ISI Centenary Volume. Springer Verlag, New York, pp. 327–54 Hansen M, Hurwitz W 1942 Relative efficiencies of various sampling units in population inquiries. Journal of the American Statistical Association 37: 89–94 Hansen M, Hurwitz W 1943 On the theory of sampling from finite populations. Annals of Mathematical Statistics 14: 333–62 Hansen M, Hurwitz W, Madow W 1953a Sample Sur
ey Methods and Theory, Vol. 1. Wiley, New York Hansen M, Hurwitz W, Madow W 1953b Sample Sur
ey Methods and Theory, Vol. 2. Wiley, New York Hansen M, Hurwitz W, Marks E, Mauldin W 1951 Response errors in surveys. Journal of the American Statistical Association 46: 147–90 Horvitz D, Thompson D 1952 A generalization of sampling without replacement from a finite universe. Journal of the American Statistical Association 47: 663–85 Jenson A 1926 Report on the representative method in statistics. Bulletin of the International Statistical Institute 22: 359–80 Kiaer A 1895\1896 Observation et expe! riences concernant des de! nombrements re! presentatifs. Bulletin of the International Statistical Institute 9(2): 176–83 Kiaer A 1897 The representative method of statistical surveys (in Norwegian). Christiana Videnskabsselskabets Skrifter. II Hisoriskfilosofiske 4 [reprinted with an English trans. by Central Bureau of Statistics of Norway, Oslo, 1976)] Kruskal W, Mosteller F 1980 Representative sampling, iv: The history of the concept in statistics, 1895–1939. International Statistical Re
iew 48: 169–95 Laplace P 1814 Essai philosophique sur les probabiliteT s. Dover, New York [trans. of 1840 6th edn. appeared in 1951 as A Philosophical Essay on Probabilities, trans. Truscott F W, Emory F L] Madansky A 1986 On biblical censuses. Journal of Official Statistics 2: 561–69 Mahalanobis P 1944 On large-scale sample surveys. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London 231(B): 329–451 Mahalanobis P 1946 Recent experiments in statistical sampling in the Indian Statistical Institute. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society 109: 325–78

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eys, History of Mosteller F, Hyman H, McCarthy P J, Marks E S, Truman D B 1949 The Pre-election Polls of 1948. Social Science Research Council, New York Neyman J 1934 On the two different aspects of the representative method: The method of stratified sampling and the method of purposive selection. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society 97: 558–625 Neyman J 1952 Lectures and Conferences on Mathematical Statistics and Probability. US Department of Agriculture, Washington, DC [The 1952 edition is an expanded and revised version of the original 1938 mimeographed edition.] Rao J, Bellhouse D 1990 The history and development of the theoretical foundations of survey based estimation and statistical analysis. Sur
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eys. Aldine, Chicago Taeuber C 1978 Census. In: Kruskal W H, Tanur J M (eds.) International Encyclopedia of Statistics. Macmillan and the Free Press, New York, pp. 42–6 Tchouproff A A 1918a On the mathematical expectation of the moments of frequency distributions (Chap. 1 and 2). Biometrika 12: 140–69 Tchouproff A A 1918b On the mathematical expectation of the moments of frequency distributions (Chap. 3 and 4). Biometrika 12: 185–210 Tschuprow A A 1923a On the mathematical expectation of the moments of frequency distributions in the case of correlated observations (Chaps. i–iii). Metron 2: 461–93 Tschuprow A A 1923b On the mathematical expectation of the moments of frequency distributions in the case of correlated observations (Chaps. iv–vi). Metron 2: 646–80 Willcox W 1930 Census. In: Seligman E R A, Johnson A (eds.) Encyclopedia of Social Sciences, Vol. 3. Macmillan, New York pp. 295–300 Yates F 1946 A review of recent developments in sampling and sample surveys (with discussion). Journal of the Royal Statistical Society 109: 12–42 Zarkovic S S 1956 Note on the history of sampling methods in Russia. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society, Series A 119: 336–8

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S. E. Fienberg and J. M. Tanur

Sample Surveys: Methods A survey consists of a number of operations or steps of survey design. The ultimate goal of the survey is to generate estimates of population parameters, based on observations of (a sample of) the units that comprise the population. The design steps can be viewed as a chain of links. The chain is no stronger than its weakest link, for example, see Sur
ey Sampling: The Field. The steps can be labeled in the following way: (a) Research objectives are defined, i.e., the subject-matter problem is translated into a statistical problem. Researchers must define the target population they want to study and the concepts they wish to measure. Indicators (variables) of the concepts are chosen and eventually, questions are formulated. Problems in this first step usually result in relevance errors, see Hox (1997). (b) A frame of the population is developed. The frame could be a list of population units, a map, or even a set of random numbers that could be used to access a population of individuals with telephones. Coverage errors result when frame units do not completely correspond with population units. (See Groves 1989.) (c) The mode of administrating the survey is chosen. The suitable survey mode depends on budget constraints, topic, and the type of measurement that is being considered. Common modes include faceto-face interviews, telephone interviews, diaries, and administrative records. New modes related to the Internet have recently entered the scene, see Lyberg and Kasprzyk (1991) and Dillman (2000). (d) The questionnaire is developed. For each survey construct, one or more survey questions are developed. Questionnaire development is complicated since the perception of questions varies among respondents and is sensitive to a number of cognitive phenomena. Effects that are treated in the literature include: question wording, question order, order between response alternatives, context, navigational principles, and the influence of interviewers. Many large survey organizations emphasize this step and have created cognitive laboratories to improve their questionnaire work, see Sudman et al. (1996) and Forsyth and Lessler (1991). (e) The sampling design specifies the sampling unit, the method for randomly selecting the sample from the frame, and the sample size. The choice depends on the assumed population variability and the costs of sampling different units, see Sa$ rndal et al. (1992). (f)

Sample Sur
eys: Methods Data are collected, i.e., observations or measurements are made of the sampled units. Typically both random and systematic errors occur at this stage, see de Leeuw and Collins (1997). (g) Data are processed. This step is needed to make estimation and tabulation possible, given that only raw data exist. The processing includes editing activities where data consistency and completeness are controlled, entry of data (data capture), and coding of variables, see Lyberg and Kasprzyk(1997). All design steps are interdependent. A decision regarding one step has an impact on other steps. Thus, several iterations of the above steps of the design process may be necessary before the final design is determined. There follows details of the survey process.

1. Populations and Population Parameters A population is a set of units. For example, a population might be the inhabitants of a country, the households in a city, or the companies in a sector of industry. The ‘units of study’ are the units used as a basis of the analysis, for example individuals, households, or companies. The ‘target population’ is that particular part of the population about which inference is desired. The ‘study variables’ are the values of the units studied, for example the age of an individual, the disposable income of a household, or the number of employees in a company. The ‘population parameters’ are characteristics of the population, summarizing features of the population, for example the average disposable income for households in a population. Most often interest centers on finding the population parameters for specific subsets of the population such as geographical regions or age groups. The subsets are called ‘domains of study.’

2. Sampling Units, Frames, and Probability Samples Frequently, statements about some population parameters are problematic because of a lack of time and funding necessary for surveying all units in the population. Instead we have to draw a sample, a subset of the population, and base conclusions on that sample. High quality conclusions concerning the parameter values require care when designing the sample. Assessing the quality of the conclusions made can be accomplished by using a probability sampling design, which is a design such that all units in the population is given a known probability of being included in the sample. Given that knowledge, it is possible to produce estimates of the parameters that are unbiased and of high precision. Moreover it is also possible to estimate the precision of the estimates based on the sample. This is usually in contrast to nonprobability sampling designs where, strictly speak-

ing, the statistical properties of the estimators are unknown unless one is willing to accept distribution assumptions for the variables under study in combination with the sampling design. Probability sampling requires a frame of sampling units. The units of study in the population can be of different types, such as individuals, households, or companies. Even if the analysis is intended to be based on these units it is often practical or even necessary to group the population units into units that are better suited for sampling. The reason for this can be that, due to imperfect frames, there is no register of the units of study and therefore the units cannot be selected directly. Instead, groups of units can be selected, for example, villages or city blocks, and interviews are conducted with the people in the villages or blocks. Here the sampling unit consists of a cluster of units of study. In many countries, the demarcation of the clusters are based on geographical units identified through areas on maps. Often the clusters are formed to be a suitable workload for an interviewer or enumerator and are called the enumeration area. The enumeration areas are often formed and updated in population censuses. In countries where the telecommunication system is well developed, interviews are often done by telephone. The sampling unit in this case is the cluster of individuals, i.e., the household members that have access to the same telephone. The frame can take different shapes. For example, a list of N students at a university complete with names and addresses is a frame of students. In this case the sampling units and the units of study are the same. This makes it easy to select a sample of n students by numbering the students from 1 to N and generating n random numbers in a computer. Then we select the students that have the same number as the realized random numbers. Note that in doing so we deliberately introduce randomization through the random number generation. This is in contrast to methods that do not use randomization techniques but act as if data are independent identically distributed random variables regardless of how the data was obtained. Often, the sampling units are not the same as the study units. If, for example, the units of study are individuals in a country and the target population consists of all individuals living in the country at a specific date, there is seldom a list or data file that contains the individuals. Also the cost of making such a list would be prohibitive. Using a sequence of frames containing a sequence of sampling units of decreasing sizes can improve this situation. For example, if there exists a list of villages in the country, then this is a frame of primary sampling units. From a sample of villages, a list of all households within the villages selected can be made. This is a frame of secondary sampling units. Note that there is a need for making the list of households only for the villages selected. Using this list, some of the households may be selected for interviews. Thus, a sequence 13459

Sample Sur
eys: Methods of frames containing a sequence of sampling units has been constructed in a way that permits selection of a probability sample of units of study without enumerating all the individuals in the country. The existence of, or the possibility of, creating reliable frames is a prerequisite for making efficient sampling designs. Often the frame situation will govern the sampling procedure. Ideally the frame should cover the target population and only that population. It should provide the information necessary for contacting the units of study such as names, addresses, telephone numbers, or the like. If there is auxiliary information about the units, it is very practical if it is included in the frame. Auxiliary information is useful for constructing efficient sampling designs. A specific type of frame is used in ‘Random Digit Dialing’ (RDD). When telephone numbers are selected, a common technique is to select numbers by generating them at random in a computer. The frame is the set of numbers that could be generated in the computer. The selection probability of the cluster is proportional to the number of telephones to which the household members have access.

3. Sampling Methods and Estimators The overall goal is to be able to make (high) quality estimates of the parameters as cheaply as possible. This is implemented using a ‘sampling strategy,’ i.e., a combination of sampling design (a certain combination of sampling methods) and an ‘estimator,’ which is as efficient as possible, i.e., gives the highest precision for a given cost. There exists a variety of sampling methods that can be applied in different situations depending on the circumstances. The most frequently employed sampling methods are: (a) Simple Random Sampling (SRS). Every unit in the population is given an equal chance of being included in the sample. (b) Systematic Sampling. Every kth unit in the frame is included in the sample, starting from a randomly selected starting point. The sampling step k is chosen so that the sample has a predetermined size. (c) Stratified Sampling. The units are grouped together in homogenous groups (strata) and then sampled, for example, using SRS within each group. Stratified sampling is used either for efficiency reasons or to ensure a certain sample size in some domains of study, such as geographical regions or specific age groups. It is necessary to know the values of a stratification variable in advance to be able to create the strata. Stratification is efficient if the stratification variable is related to the variables under study. If the number of units that are being selected within each stratum is proportional to the number of units in the stratum, then this is called proportional allocation. Usually this will give fairly efficient estimates. It can be improved upon using optimal allocation, which requires knowledge of the variability of the study 13460

variables or correlated variables within each stratum. In many cases the improvement is small compared to proportional stratification. (d) Unequal Probability Sampling. This is a method, which can be employed either for efficiency reasons or for sheer necessity. Often the probability of selecting a cluster of units is (or is made to be) proportional to the number of units in the cluster. This is called selecting with probability proportional to size (PPS), with size in this case equal to the number of units. The measure of size can vary. The efficiency of the estimator will increase if the measure of size is related to the study variables. (e) Multistage Sampling. This is a technique, which is typically used in connection with frame problems. The above-mentioned sampling methods can be combined to produce good sampling designs. For example, the following is an example of a ‘master sample design’ that is used in some countries. Suppose that the object is to conduct a series of sample surveys concerning employment status, living conditions, and household expenditures. Also suppose that based on a previous census there exist enumeration areas (EAs) for the country, which are reasonably well updated so that approximations of the population sizes are available for each EA. Suppose that it is deemed appropriate to stratify the EAs according to geographical regions both because the government wants these regions as domains of study and because there is reason to believe that the consumption pattern is different within each region. Thus, the stratification of the EAs would serve both purposes, namely controlling the sample sizes for domains of study and presumably being more efficient than SRS. A number of EAs are selected within each stratum. The number of EAs to be selected is chosen to be proportional to the aggregated population figures in the regions according to the most recent census. The EAs are the primary sampling units. If the EAs vary a lot in size it could be efficient to select the EAs with PPS; otherwise SRS could be used. The EAs so selected, constitute the master sample of primary sampling units that will be kept the same for a number of years. The actual number of years will depend on the migration rate within the regions. From this master sample a number of households are selected each time a new survey is to be conducted. When selecting the households, it is possible to make a new updating of the EAs, i.e., to make a new list of the households living in the area and then select with systematic sampling or SRS a number of households to be interviewed. The households are the secondary sampling units. Often the sampling fractions in the second stage are determined in such a way that the resulting inflation factor for the households is the same. This is called a ‘self-weighting design.’ In principle, a self-weighting design makes it possible to calculate the estimates and the precision of the estimates without a computer.

Sample Sur
eys: Methods

4. Estimators, Auxiliary Information, and Sample Weights To each sampling design there corresponds at least one estimator, which is a function of the sample data used for making statements about the parameters. The form of the estimator depends on the sampling design used and also on whether auxiliary information is included in the function. In survey sampling, some auxiliary information is almost always available, i.e., values of concomitant variables known for all units in the population. If this information is correlated to the study variables, it can be used to increase the efficiency of the sampling strategy either by incorporating the information in the sampling method, as in stratification, or in the probability of including the unit in the sample as in PPS, or in adjusting the estimator. A very general form of an estimator is the so-called generalized regression estimator (Cassel et al. 1976), which for estimating the population total takes the form tGR l tyjβV (txkTx) where x denotes the values of the auxiliary variable, Tx the known value of the population total of x, β# is the regression coefficient estimated from the sample between x and the study variable y and n x tx l  i α " i

is the so-called Horvitz–Thompson estimator of X, and αi the inclusion probability of unit i. The function ty is the estimator of the unknown value of the parameter. The motivation for using this estimator is based on the conviction that the study variable and the auxiliary variable are linearly related. Thus, this can be seen as one example of the use of models in survey sampling. If the inclusion probabilities are the same for all units, i.e., if αi l (n\N ), then the Horvitz– Thompson estimator becomes the expanded sample mean, which is an unbiased estimator of the population total under the SRS scheme if the expectation is taken with respect to the design properties. The sample weights are the inflation factors used in the estimator for inflating the sample data. They are usually a function of the inverted values of the inclusion probabilities. In the Horvitz–Thompson estimator, the sample weights are N(αin)−". For the sample mean, the sample weights become N\n. As was noted earlier, to each sampling design, there exists an estimator that is natural, i.e., it is unbiased in the design sense. For example, in the case of multistage probability sampling, the sampling weights are functions of the different selection probabilities in each selection step. If the selection probabilities are carefully selected they may form a weight, which is constant for all units in the sample, and the value taken by the estimator can be calculated simply by summing the values of the

units in the sample and multiplying the sum by the constant. This is called a ‘selfweighted estimator’ (and design). This technique was important before the breakthrough of the personal computer, because it saved a lot of manual labor but with today’s powerful PCs, it has lost its merits. The generalized regression estimator can be rewritten in the form: n

tGR l wixi " where wi are the sample weights pertinent to unit i for this estimator. The ‘calibration estimator’ is the form of the regression estimator where the sample weights have been adjusted so that tx  Tx. This adjustment causes a small systematic error, which decreases when the sample size increases.

5. Assessing the Quality of the Estimates—Precision The quality of the statements depend among other things on the precision of the estimates. Probability sampling supports measurement of the sampling error, since a randomly selected subset of the population is a basis for the estimates. The calculation takes into consideration the randomization induced by the sampling design. Because the design might be complex, the calculation of the precision might be different from what is traditionally used in statistics. For example the variance of the sample mean y- s for estimating the population mean y- under SRS with replacement is S #\n where S # is the population variance, where S# l

1 N  ( yiky` )# Nk1 "

and n is the sample size. This formula is similar to that used in traditional statistical analysis. However for the Horvitz–Thompson estimator, the variance is: 1N N  2 " " F

E

αiαjkαij αij

G

E

H

F

yj yi k αj αi

# G

H

where αij is the joint inclusion probability of units i and j. As can be seen, the calculation of the variance becomes complicated for complicated sampling designs, having a large number of selection stages and also unequal selection probabilities in each step. This complexity becomes even more pronounced when estimating population parameters in subgroups where the means are ratios of random variables. However some shortcut methods have been developed: ultimate cluster techniques, Taylor series, jack-knifing, and replications, see Wolter (1985). It is also evident from the formula for the variance that the variance of the 13461

Sample Sur
eys: Methods Horvitz–Thompson estimator depends on the relation between the values of the study variable y and the inclusion probability α. If the inclusion probability can be made to be approximately proportional to the values of the study variable, then the variance becomes small. That is one reason why much emphasis is put on the existence of auxiliary information in survey sampling. However, as was shown by Godambe (1955) there does not exist a uniformly minimum variance unbiased estimator in survey sampling when inference is restricted to design-based inference.

One should bear in mind, however, that for each survey step there are methods designed to keep the errors small. Systematic use of such known dependable methods decreases the need for evaluation studies or heavy reliance on modeling. See also: Sample Surveys: Nonprobability Sampling; Sample Surveys: Survey Design Issues and Strategies

Bibliography 6. Assessing the Quality of the Estimates—Total Sur
ey Error The total survey error can be measured by the mean squared error (MSE), which is the sum of the variance and the squared bias of the estimate. Regular formulas for error estimation do not take all MSE components into account but rather the precision components mentioned above. Basically, a variance formula includes random variation induced by the sampling procedure and the random response variation. Components such as correlated variances induced by interviewers, coders, editors, and others have to be estimated separately and added to the sampling and response variance. The same goes for systematic errors that contribute to the bias. They have to be estimated separately and added, so that a proper estimate of MSE can be obtained. Often the survey quality is visualized by a confidence interval, based on the estimated precision. Obviously such an interval might be too short because it has not taken the total error into account. Some of the sources of correlated variances and biases can be traced to: (a) respondents who might have a tendency to, for instance, under-report socially undesirable behaviors; (b) interviewers who might systematically reformulate certain questions and do so in an interviewerspecific fashion; (c) respondents who do not participate because they cannot be contacted or they refuse; (d) incomplete frames resulting in, e.g., undercoverage; and (e) coders who might introduce biased measurements if they tend to erroneously code certain variable descriptions. There are of course many other possibilities for error to occur in the estimates. There are basically two ways of assessing the quality of estimates: (a) The components of MSE can be estimated—this is a costly and time-consuming operation and (b) by a modeling approach—it might be possible to include, e.g., nonresponse errors and coverage errors in the assessment formulas. This method’s success depends on the realism of the modeling of the error mechanisms involved. 13462

Cassel C M, Sa$ rndal C E, Wretman J H 1976 Some results on generalized difference and generalized regression estimation for finite populations. Biometrika 63: 615–20 De Leeuw E, Collins M 1997 Data collection methods and survey quality: An overview. In: Lyberg L et al. (eds.) Sur
ey Measurement and Process Quality. Wiley, New York Dillman D 2000 Mail and Internet Sur
eys. Wiley, New York Godambe V P 1955 A unified theory of sampling from finite populations. Journal of Royal Statistical Society, Series B 17: 269–78 Groves R 1989 Sur
ey Errors and Sur
ey Costs. Wiley Forsyth B, Lessler J 1991 Cognitive laboratory methods: A taxomomy. In: Biemer P et al. (eds.) Measurement Errors in Sur
eys. Wiley, New York Hox J 1997 From theoretical concept to survey question. In: Lyberg L et al. (eds.) Sur
ey Measurement and Process Quality. Wiley, New York, pp. 47–70 Lyberg L, Kasprzyk D 1991 Data collection methods and measurement error: An overview. In: Biemer P et al. (eds.) Measurement Errors in Sur
eys. Wiley Lyberg L, Kasprzyk D 1997 Some aspects of post-survey processing. In: Lyberg L et al. (eds.) Sur
ey Measurement and Process Quality. Wiley Sa$ rndal C E, Swensson B, Wretman J 1992 Model Assisted Sur
ey Sampling. Springer-Verlag, New York Sudman S, Bradburn N, Schwarz N 1996 Thinking About Answers: The Application of Cogniti
e Processes to Sur
ey Methodology. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco Wolter K 1985 Introduction to Variance Estimation. SpringerVerlag

C. M. Cassel and L. Lyberg

Sample Surveys: Model-based Approaches The theory for sample surveys has been developed using two theoretical frameworks: design-based and model-based. The design-based approach uses the probabilities with which units are selected for the sample for inference; in the model-based approach, the investigator hypothesizes a joint probability distribution for elements in the finite population, and uses that probability distribution for inference. In this article, the two approaches are described and compared, and guidelines are given for when, and how,

Sample Sur
eys: Model-based Approaches one should perform a model-based analysis of survey data. The use of models for survey design is discussed briefly.

1. Inference in Sample Sur
eys How does one generalize from individuals in a sample to those not observed? The problem of induction from a sample was much debated by philosophers, social scientists, and mathematicians of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, including Immanuel Kant, Charles Peirce, John Venn, and Adolphe Quetelet. In the early years of the twentieth century, many investigators resisted the idea of using survey samples rather than censuses for ‘serious statistics’ because of inference issues (see Sample Sur
eys, History of). The debates involving official uses of sample surveys in these years resulted in the development of two philosophical frameworks for inference from a sample: design-based inference and model-based inference. In design-based inference, first expounded systematically by Neyman (1934), the sample design provides the mechanism for inferences about the population. Suppose that a without-replacement probability sample (see Sample Sur
eys: Methods) of n units is to be taken from a population of N units. A random variable Zi is associated with the ith unit in the population; Zi l 1 if the unit is selected for inclusion in the sample, and Zi l 0 if the unit is not selected. The joint probability distribution of oZ ,…, ZNq is used for " inference statements such as confidence intervals (see Estimation: Point and Inter
al ). The quantity being measured on unit i, yi, is irrelevant for inference in the design-based approach. Whether yi is household income, years of piano lessons, or number of cockroaches in the kitchen, properties of estimators depend exclusively on properties of the random variables oZ , …, ZNq that describe " the probability sampling design. The Horvitz– Thompson (1952) estimator, N

 Zi yi\πi i="

(1)

where πi l P(Zi l 1), is an unbiased estimator of the population total N yi; the variance of the Horvitz– i= Thompson estimator," N N

  yi yj(πiπj)-" Cov (Zi, Zj) i="j=" depends on the covariance structure of oZ , …, ZNq. " the inThe design-based approach differs from ferential framework used in most other areas of statistics. There, yi is the observed value of a random variable Yi; the joint probability distribution of the Yi’s and proposed stochastic models allow inferential

statements to be made. Following questions raised by Godambe (1955) about optimal estimation and survey inference, Brewer (1963) and Royall (1970) suggested that the same model-based frameworks used in other areas of statistics also be used in finite population sampling. Thompson (1997) summarized various approaches to prediction using models. In the model-based approach to inference, the finite population values are assumed to be generated from a stochastic model. Regression models (see Linear Hypothesis: Regression (Basics)) are often adopted for this purpose: if covariates xi , xi , …, xip are known " a#possible model is for every unit in the population, Yi l β jβ xi j(jβpxipjεi ! " "

(2)

where the εi’s are random variables with mean zero and specified covariance structure. The parameters βj for j l 0, …, p may be estimated by standard techniques such as generalized least squares, and the regression equation used to predict the value of y for units not in the sample. Then the finite population total is estimated by summing the observed values of the yi’s for units in the sample and the predicted values of the response for units not in the sample. To illustrate the two approaches, consider a hypothetical survey taken to study mental health status in a population of 10,000 women over age 65. A stratified random sample of 100 urban women and 100 rural women is drawn from a population of 6,000 urban women and 4,000 rural women over age 65. One response of interest is the score on a depression inventory. Let y` U denote the sample mean score for the urban women and let y` R denote the sample mean score for the rural women. Under the design-based approach as exposited in Cochran (1977), πi l 1\60 if person i is in an urban area and πi l 1\40 if person i is in a rural area. Every urban woman in the sample represents herself and 59 other urban women who are in the population but not in the sample; every sampled rural woman represents herself plus 39 other rural women. The Horvitz– Thompson estimator for the mean depression score for the population is N−"N Ziyi\πi; here, the i= estimated population mean score" under the stratified random sampling design is 0.6y` Uj0.4y` R. A 95 percent confidence interval (CI) for the mean refers to the finite population: if a CI were calculated for each possible sample that could be generated using the sampling design, the selection probabilities of the samples whose CIs include the true value of the population mean depression score sum to 0.95. Inference refers to repeated sampling from the population, not to the particular sample drawn. Any number of stochastic models might be considered in a model-based approach. Consider first a special case of the regression model in Eqn. (2), and assume that the εi’s are independent and normally 13463

Sample Sur
eys: Model-based Approaches distributed with constant variance. Model 1 has the form Yi l β jβ xijεi, where xi l 1 if person i is an ! and " x l 0 if person i is a rural resident. urban resident i The stochastic model provides a link between sampled and unsampled units: women who are not in the sample are assumed to have the same mean depression score as women with the same urban\rural status who are in the sample. Under Model 1, β# l y` R and β# l ! of β and" β . y` Uky` R are the least squares estimates ! " Thus the predicted value of y for each urban woman is y` U, and the predicted value of y for each rural woman is y` R. The model-based estimate of mean depression in this population is thus 1 [100y` Uj100y` Rj5,900y` Uj3,900y` R] 10,000 l 0.6y` Uj0.4y` R With Model 1, the point and interval estimates of the finite population mean are the same as for the designbased approach. The 95 percent confidence interval is interpreted differently, however; 95 percent of CIs from samples with the same values of xi that could be generated from the model are expected to contain the true value of β j0.6β . ! model-based " In this example, inference with Model 1 accords with the results from design-based inference. But suppose that the model adopted is Model 2: Yi l µjεi. Then the predicted value of the response for all women in the finite population is y` l ( y` Ujy` R)\2, and the mean depression score for the finite population is also estimated by y` . If depression is higher among rural women than among urban women, the estimate y` from Model 2 will likely overestimate the true mean depression score in the population of 10,000 women because rural women are not proportionately represented in the sample. In the model-based approach, inference is not limited to the 10,000 persons from whom the sample is drawn but applies to any set of persons for whom the model is appropriate. Random selection of units is not required for inference as long as the model assumptions hold. If the model is comprehensive enough to include all important information, as in Model 1 above, then the sampling design is irrelevant and can be disregarded for inference. The two types of inference differ in the conception of randomness. Design-based inference relies on the randomness involved in sample selection; it relates to the actual finite population, and additional assumptions are needed to extend the inferences to other possible populations. Model-based inference is conditional on the selected sample; the randomness is built into the model, and the model assumptions are used to make inferences about units not in the sample. Design-based inference depends on other possible samples that could have been selected from the finite population but were not, while model-based inference 13464

depends on other possible populations that could have been generated under the model but were not. The approaches are not completely separated in practice. Rao (1997) summarized a conditional designbased approach to inference, in which inference is restricted to a subset of possible samples. Sa$ rndal et al. (1992) advocated a model-assisted approach, in which a population model inspires the choice of estimator, but inference is based on the sampling design. In the depression example, a model-assisted estimator could incorporate auxiliary information such as race, ethnicity, and marital status through a model of the form in Eqn. (2); however, the stratified random sampling design is used to calculate estimates and standard errors.

2. Models in Descripti
e and Analytic Uses of Sur
eys Estimating a finite population mean or total is an example of a descriptive use of a survey: the characteristics of a particular finite population are of interest. In much social science research, survey data are used for analytic purposes: investigating relationships between factors and testing sociological theories. Data from the US National Crime Victimization Survey may be used to estimate the robbery rate in 1999 (descriptive), or they may be used to investigate a hypothesized relationship between routine activities and likelihood of victimization (analytic). In the former case, the population of inference is definite and conceivably measurable through a census. In the latter, the population of inference is conceptual; the investigator may well be interested in predicting the likelihood of victimization of a future person with given demographic and routine activity variables. Smith (1994) argued that design-based inference is the appropriate paradigm for official descriptive statistics based on probability samples. Part of his justification for this position was the work of Hansen et al. (1983), who provided an example in which small deviations from an assumed model led to large biases in inference. Brewer (1999) summarized work on design-based and model-based estimation for estimating population totals and concluded that a modelassisted generalized regression estimator (see Sa$ rndal et al. 1992), used with design-based inference, captures the best features of both approaches. Models must of course always be used for inference in nonprobability samples (see Sample Sur
eys: Nonprobability Sampling); they may also be desirable in probability samples that are too small to allow the central limit theorem to be applied for inference. Lohr (1999 Chap. 11) distinguished between obtaining descriptive official statistics and uncovering a ‘universal truth’ in an analytic use of a survey. Returning to the depression example, the investigator might be interested in the relationship between de-

Sample Sur
eys: Model-based Approaches pression score ( y) and variables such as marital status, financial resources, number of chronic health problems, and ability to care for oneself. In this case, the investigator would be interested in testing a theory that would be assumed to hold not just for the particular population of 10,000 women but for other populations as well, and should be making inferential statements about the βs in model (2). The quantity for inference in the design-based setting is bp, the least squares estimate of β that would be obtained if the xis and yi were known for all 10,000 persons in the finite population. The quantity bp would rarely be of primary interest to the investigator, though, since it is merely a summary statistic for this particular finite population. In social research, models are generally motivated by theories, and a model-based analysis allows these theories to be tested empirically. The generalized least squares estimator of β, β# LS, would be the estimator of choice under a pure modelbased approach because of its optimality properties under the proposed model. This estimator is, however, sensitive to model misspecification. An alternative, which achieves a degree of robustness to the model at the expense of a possibly higher variance, is to use the design-based estimator of bp. If the proposed stochastic model is indeed generating the finite population and if certain regularity conditions are met, an estimator that is consistent for estimating bp will also be consistent for estimating β. Under this scenario, a design-based estimate for bp also estimates the quantity of primary interest β and has the advantage of being less sensitive to model misspecification. Regardless of philosophical differences on other matters of inference, it is generally agreed that two aspects of descriptive statistics require the use of models. All methods currently used to adjust for nonresponse (see Nonsampling Errors) employ models to relate nonrespondents to respondents, although the models are not necessarily testable. In small area estimation, sample sizes in some subpopulations of interest are too small to allow estimates of sufficient precision; models are used to relate such subpopulations to similar subpopulations and to useful covariates.

of the area or the population, but to the fact that the sample size in the domain is small or may even be zero. Consider the states to be the small areas, and let yk be the proportion of school-age children who are poor in state k. The direct estimate y` k of yk is calculated using data exclusively from the CPS, and Vp (ya k) is an estimate of the variance of y` k. Since in some states Vp ( y` k) is unacceptably large, the current practice for estimating poverty at the state level (see National Research Council, 2000, p. 49) uses auxiliary information from tax returns, food stamp programs, and the decennial census to supplement the data from the CPS. A regression model for predicting yk using auxiliary information gives predicted values

3. Models for Small Area Estimation

4.

In small area estimation, a model is used to estimate the response in subpopulations with few or no sample observations. As an example, the US Current Population Survey (CPS) provides accurate statistics about income and poverty for the nation as a whole. It was not designed, though, to provide accurate estimates in domains such as states, counties, or school districts—the sample would have to be prohibitively large in order to provide precise estimates of poverty for every county in the USA. These domains are called small areas—the term ‘small’ does not refer to the size

The first step in a model-based analysis for either descriptive or analytical use is to propose and fit a model to the data. Dependence among units, such as dependence among children in the same school, can be treated using hierarchical linear models or other methods discussed in Skinner et al. (1989). The biggest concern in a model-based analysis, as pointed out by Hansen et al. (1983), is that the model may be misspecified. Many, but not all, of the assumptions implicit in a model can be checked using the sample data. Appropriate plots of the data provide

% yV k l βV j βV j xjk ! j=" where the xjk s represent covariates for state k (e.g., x k " is the proportion of child exemptions reported by families in poverty in state k, and x k is the proportion of people receiving food stamps# in state k). The predicted value yV k from the regression equation is combined with the direct estimate y` k from the CPS according to the relative amounts of information present in each: the small area estimate for state k is yg k l γky` kj(1kγk)yV k where γk is determined by the relative precision of y` k and yV k. If the direct estimate is precise for a state, i.e., Vp ( y` k) is small, then γk is close to one and the small area estimate yg k relies mostly on the direct estimate. Conversely, if the CPS contains little information about state k’s poverty rate, then γk is close to zero and yg k relies mostly on the predicted value from the regression model. The small area model allows the estimator for area k to ‘borrow strength’ from other areas and incorporate auxiliary information from administrative data or other sources. Ghosh and Rao (1994) and Rao (1999) review properties of this model and other models used in small area estimation.

Performing a Model-based Analysis

13465

Sample Sur
eys: Model-based Approaches some graphical checks of model adequacy and correctness of the assumed variance structure, as described in Lohr (1999). These assumptions can also be partially checked by performing hypothesis tests of nested models, and by fitting alternative models to the data. In the depression example, plotting the data separately for rural and urban residents would reveal inadequacy of Model 2 relative to Model 1. Another method that can sometimes detect model inadequacy is comparison of design-based and modelbased estimates of model parameters. As mentioned in Sect. 2, if the model is correct for units in the finite population, then the design-based estimates and the model-based estimates should both be consistent for the model parameters. A substantial difference in the estimates could indicate that the sample design contains information not captured in the model, and that perhaps more covariates are needed in the model. One crucial assumption that cannot be checked using sample data is that the model describes units not n the sample. This assumption is especially important in nonprobability samples and in use of models for nonresponse adjustment or small area estimation.

5. Models in Sur
ey Design Kalton (1983) distinguished between the use of models in survey analysis and in survey design, stating that ‘the use of models to guide the choice of sample design is well-established and noncontroversial.’ In good survey practice, a stratified sampling design is often chosen because it is thought that there are differences among stratum means. An unequal probability design may be employed because of prior belief that large counties have more variability in total number of crime victimizations than small counties; models provide a mechanism for formalizing some of the knowledge about population structure and exploring results of alternative assumptions. Cochran (1977) illustrated the use of models for designing systematic samples. Sa$ rndal et al. (1992, Chap. 12) summarized research on optimal survey design, in which auxiliary information about the population is used to select a design that minimizes the anticipated variance of an estimator under the model and design. Models used for design purposes do not affect the validity of estimates in design-based inference. A poor model adopted while designing a probability sample may lead to larger variance of design-based estimates, but the estimates will retain properties such as unbiasedness under repeated sampling. A good model at the design stage often leads to a design with greatly increased efficiency. A model-based analysis can be conducted on data from any sample, probability or non-probability. Probability sampling is in theory unnecessary from a pure model-based perspective, and Thompson (1997) and Brewer (1999) concluded that certain forms of 13466

purposive non-probability sampling can be superior to probability sampling when a model-based analysis is to be conducted and the model is correct. In practice, however, there is always concern that the assumed model may miss salient features of the population, and probability sampling provides some protection against this concern. For a ratio model, with Yi l βxijεi and V [εi] l σ#xi, the model-based optimal design specifies a purposive sample of the population units with the largest x values. Such a design does not allow an investigator to check whether the model is appropriate for small xs; an unequal probability sample with πi proportional to xi does allow such model checking, and allows inferences under either design- or modelbased frameworks. As Brewer (1999) pointed out, there is widespread public perception that ‘randomized sampling is fair’ and that perception provides a powerful argument for using probability sampling for official statistics. The following sources are useful for further exploration of modes of inference in sample surveys. Lohr (1999, Chap. 11) provides a more detailed heuristic discussion of the role of models in survey sampling; Thompson (1997) gives a more mathematical treatment. The articles by Smith (1994), Rao (1997), and Brewer (1999) contrast inferential philosophies, discuss appropriate use of models in analysis of survey data, and provide additional references. See also: Sample Surveys, History of; Sample Surveys: Methods; Sample Surveys: Survey Design Issues and Strategies; Sample Surveys: The Field

Bibliography Brewer K R W 1963 Ratio estimation and finite populations: some results deducible from the assumption of an underlying stochastic process. Australian Journal of Statistics 5: 93–105 Brewer K R W 1999 Design-based or prediction-based inference? Stratified random vs. stratified balanced sampling. International Statistical Re
iew 67: 35–47 Cochran W G 1977 Sampling Techniques, 3rd edn. Wiley, New York Ghosh M, Rao J N K 1994 Small area estimation: An appraisal. Statistical Science 9: 55–76 Godambe V P 1955 A unified theory of sampling from finite populations. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society B 17: 269–78 Hansen M H, Madow W G, Tepping B J 1983 An evaluation of model-dependent and probability-sampling inferences in sample surveys. Journal of the American Statistical Association 78: 776–93 Horvitz D G, Thompson D J 1952 A generalization of sampling without replacement from a finite universe. Journal of the American Statistical Association 47: 663–85 Kalton G 1983 Models in the practice of survey sampling. International Statistical Re
iew 51: 175–88 Lohr S L 1999 Sampling: Design and Analysis. Duxbury Press, Pacific Grove, CA National Research Council 2000 Small-area Income and Po
erty Estimates: Priorities for 2000 and Beyond. Panel on Estimates

Sample Sur
eys: Nonprobability Sampling of Poverty for Small Geographic Areas, Committee on National Statistics. National Academy Press, Washington, DC Neyman J 1934 On the two different aspects of the representative method: The method of stratified sampling and the method of purposive selection. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society 97: 558–606 Rao J N K 1997 Developments in sample survey theory: An appraisal. Canadian Journal of Statistics 25: 1–21 Rao J N K 1999 Some recent advances in model-based small area estimation. Sur
ey Methology 25: 175–86 Royall R M 1970 On finite population sampling theory under certain linear regression models. Biometrika 57: 377–87 Sa$ rndal C E, Swensson B, Wretman J 1992 Model Assisted Sur
ey Sampling. Springer-Verlag, New York Skinner C J, Holt D, Smith T M F 1989 Analysis of Complex Sur
eys. Wiley, New York Smith T M F 1994 Sample surveys 1975–1990; an age of reconciliation? International Statistical Re
iew 62: 5–34 Thompson M E 1997 Theory of Sample Sur
eys. Chapman & Hall, London

S. L. Lohr

ference cannot be applied to assess the bias or variability of estimators based on nonprobability samples, as such methods do not allow for unknown or zero selection probabilities. Surveys carried out by national statistical agencies invariably use probability sampling. Marsh and Scarborough (1990) also noted ‘the preponderance of probability sampling in university social science.’ Nonprobability sampling is much more common in market and opinion research. However, Taylor (1995 observed large national differences in the extent to which nonprobability sampling, particularly quota sampling, is viewed as an acceptable tool for market research. In Canada and the USA, probability sampling using telephone polling and random-digit dialing is the norm for public opinion surveys. In Australia and South Africa probability sampling is also prevalent, but with face-to-face interviews. On the other hand, in many European countries such as France and the UK, quota sampling is much more common.

1. Con
enience Sampling

Sample Surveys: Nonprobability Sampling A sample collected from a finite population is said to be a probability sample if each unit of the population has nonzero probability of being selected into the sample, and that probability is known. Traditional methods of probability sampling include simple and stratified random sampling, and cluster sampling. Conclusions concerning the population may be obtained by design-based, or randomization, inference. See Sample Sur
eys: The Field and Sample Sur
eys: Methods. The values of variables of interest in the population are considered as fixed quantities, unknown except for those units selected into the sample. Inference proceeds by considering the behavior of estimators of quantities of interest under the randomization distribution, based on the known selection probabilities. For example, if the N population values of variable Y are denoted Y , …, YN and the n sample values by y , …, yn then y- ," the sample mean, is a " possible estimator for Yz , the population mean. If the sample is obtained by simple random sampling, then, with respect to this randomization distribution, y` is unbiased for Yz and has sampling variance (Nkn)\Nn(Nk1)ΣN (Y kYz )#. i=" i Nonprobability sampling refers to any method of obtaining a sample from a population which does not satisfy the criteria for probability sampling. Nonprobability samples are usually easier and cheaper to collect than probability samples, as the data collector is allowed to exercise some choice as to which units to include in the sample. For a probability sample, this choice is made entirely by the random sampling mechanism. However, methods of design-based in-

The easiest and cheapest way to collect sample data is to collect information on those population units which are most readily accessible. A university researcher may collect data on students. Surveys carried out through newspapers, television broadcasts or Internet sites (as described, for example, by Bradley, 1999) are necessarily restricted to those individuals who have access to the medium in question. Sometimes only a small fraction of the population is accessible, in which case the sample may consist of exactly those units which are available for observation. Some surveys involve an element of self-selection where individuals decide whether to include themselves in the sample or not. If participation is timeconsuming, or financial cost is involved, then the sample is more likely to include individuals with an interest in the subject of the survey. This may not be important. For example, an interest in participating in an experimental study of behavior might be considered to be unlikely to be associated with the outcome of the experiment. However, where the variable of interest relates to opinion on a question of interest, as is often the case in newspaper, television or Internet polls, it is likely that interest in participation is related to opinion, and it is much harder to justify using the sample data to make conclusions about a wider population. A famous example of the failure of such a nonprobability sample to provide accurate inferences about a wider population is the Literary Digest poll of 1936. Ten million US citizens were sent postcard ballots concerning the forthcoming presidential election. Around 2 million of these were returned, a sample size which, if associated with a simple random sample, would be expected to predict the population with negligible error. However, when calibrated against the 13467

Sample Sur
eys: Nonprobability Sampling election results, the Literary Digest poll was in error by 19 percentage points in predicting Roosevelt’s share of the vote. On the other hand, useful inferences can be made using convenience samples. Smith and Sugden (1988) considered statistical experiments, where the allocation of a particular treatment to the units under investigation is controlled, usually by randomization. In such experiments, the selection of units is not usually controlled and is often a convenience sample. For example, individuals might be volunteers. Nevertheless, inferences are often successfully extended to a wider population. Similarly, obser
ational studies where neither treatment allocation nor sample selection is controlled, usually because it is impossible to do so, can be thought of as arising from convenience samples. Smith (1983) noted that Doll and Hill (1964) in their landmark study of smoking and health, used a sample entirely made up of medical practitioners. However, the validity of extending conclusions based on their data, to the general population, is now widely recognized. Studies based on convenience samples can be an extremely effective way of conducting preliminary investigations, but it is desirable that any important conclusions drawn about a wider population are further investigated, preferably using probability samples. Where some kind of explanatory, rather than simply descriptive, inference is desired, Smith and Sugden (1988) argued that ‘the ideal studies are experiments within surveys in which the scientist has control over both the selection of units and the allocation of treatments.’ This approach was considered in detail by Fienberg and Tanur (1989).

2. Quota Sampling When using survey data to draw an inference about a population of interest, the hope of the analyst is that sample estimators of quantities of interest are close to the corresponding population values. If a nonprobability sample has been collected, then it is instructive to observe the precision of sample estimators of known population quantities. For example, how do the sample proportions of males and females compare to known population values? If they differ substantially, then the sample is ‘unrepresentative’ of the population and one might have legitimate cause for concern about the reliability of estimates of unknown quantities of interest. Purposi
e sampling is a term used for methods of choosing a nonprobability sample in a way that makes it ‘representative’ of the population, although there is no generally agreed definition of a representative sample, and purposive sampling is often based on subjective considerations. In quota sampling, the sample selection is constrained to ensure that the sample proportions of certain control variables approximately match the 13468

known population proportions. For example, if the population proportions of males and females are equal, then equal numbers of male and female units are selected into the sample. Age groups are also commonly used in designing quota samples. Sample totals for each cell of a cross-classification of two or more control variables (for example, age by sex) may also be fixed by the design. Examples are given by Moser and Kalton (1971). Quota sampling is most commonly used in market and opinion research, where control variables usually include age, sex, and socioeconomic class. Other variables such as employment status and housing tenure are also used. The known population proportions for the control variables are calculated from census data, or from surveys based on large probability samples. Variables with known population totals which are not used in setting quotas may be used for weighting in any subsequent analyses. Where data collection involves visiting households, further constraints beyond the quotas may be applied to sample selection. For example, data collectors may be assigned a prespecified travel plan. However, where the mode of data collection involves intercepting individuals on the street for interview, then the only constraint on the data collector may be to satisfy the quotas. It is this freedom given to the data collector that provides both the biggest advantage and biggest disadvantage of quota sampling. The advantage is that with only the quota constraints to satisfy, data collection is relatively easy. Such surveys can be carried out rapidly by an individual data collector performing interviews on a busy street corner. As with any nonprobability sampling scheme, however, there is no way of assessing the bias associated with quota sampling. The sample units are necessarily selected from those which are available to the data collector, given their mode of interviewing. If availability is associated with any of the survey variables, then significant bias may occur. Advocates of quota sampling argue that the quotas control for this, but there is no way of guaranteeing that they do. Neither can design-based inference be used to assess the variability of estimates based on quota samples. Sometimes, a simple model is used to assess this variability. If one assumes that the data collectors used are drawn from a population of possible data collectors, then the ‘between collector’ variance combines both sampling variability and interviewer variability. Deville (1991) modeled the quota sampling process and provided some alternative measures of variability. Studies comparing quota and probability sampling have been carried out. Moser and Stuart (1953) discovered apparent availability biases in the quota samples they investigated, with respect to the variables occupation and education. In particular, they noticed that the quota samples underestimated the proportion of population with lower levels of education. Marsh and Scarborough (1990) investigated nine possible sources of availability bias in quota samples. They

Sample Sur
eys: Nonprobability Sampling found that, amongst women, their quota sample overestimated the proportion from households with children. Both studies found that the quota samples tended to underestimate the proportion of individuals in the extreme (high and low) income groups. Quota samples are often used for political opinion polls preceding elections. In such examples they can be externally validated against the election results and historically quota samples have often been shown to be quite accurate. Indeed Worcester (1996) argued that election forecasts using quota samples for UK elections in the 1970s were more accurate than those using probability samples. Smith (1996) presented similar evidence. However, it is also election forecasting which has led to quota sampling coming under closest scrutiny. In the US presidential election of 1948, the Crossley, Gallup, and Roper polls all underestimated Truman’s share of the vote by at least five percentage points, and as a consequence, predicted the wrong election winner. Mosteller et al. (1949) in their report on the failure of the polls found one of the two main causes of error to be errors of sampling and interviewing, and concluded (p. 304) that ‘it is likely that the principal weakness of the quota control method occurred at the local level at which respondents are selected by interviewers.’ The UK general election of 1992 saw a similar catastrophic failure of the pre-election opinion polls, with pre-election polls giving Labour an average lead of around 1.5 percentage points. In the election, the Conservative lead over Labour was 7 percentage points. A report by the Market Research Society Working Party (1994) into the failure of the polls identified inaccuracies in setting the quota controls as one of a number of possible sources of error. As a result the sample proportions of the key variables did not accurately reflect the proportions in the population. Lynn and Jowell (1996) attributed much of the error to the selection bias inherent in quota sampling, and argued for increased use of probability sampling methods for future election forecasts.

3. A Formal Framework As methods of design-based inference cannot be applied to data obtained by nonprobability sampling, any kind of formal assessment of bias and variability associated with nonprobability samples requires a model-based approach (see Sample Sur
eys: Modelbased Approaches). Smith (1983) considered the following framework, which can be used to assess the validity of inferences from various kinds of nonprobability samples. Let i l 1, …, N denote the population units, vector Yi the values of the unknown survey variables, and vector Zi the values of variables which are known prior to the survey. Let A be a binary variable indicating whether a unit is selected into the sample (Ai l 1) or not (Ai l 0), and let As be the values of A for the observed sample. Smith (1983)

modeled the population values of Y and the selection process jointly through f (Y, As Q Z; θ, φ) l f (Y Q Z; θ) f (As Q Y, Z; φ)

(1)

where θ and φ are distinct model parameters for the population model and selection model respectively. Given As, Y can be partitioned as (Ys, Ys` ) into observed and unobserved values. Inferences based on the observed data model f (Ys Q Z; θ) and extended to the population are said to ignore the selection mechanism, and in situations where this is valid, the selection is said to be ignorable (Rubin, 1976); see Statistical Data, Missing. Selection is ignorable when f (As Q Y, Z; φ) l f (As Q Z; φ)

(2)

so that the probability of making the observed selection, for given Z, is the same for all Y. A sufficient condition for this is that A and Y are conditionally independent given Z. A probability sampling scheme, perhaps using some stratification or clustering based on Z, is clearly ignorable. Nonprobability sampling schemes based on Z (for example selecting exactly those units corresponding to a particular set of values of Z) are also ignorable. However, whether or not inferences are immediately available for values of Z not contained in the sample depends on the form of the population model f(Y Q Z; θ) and, in particular, whether the entire θ is estimable using Ys. If Y is independent of Z then there is no problem, but this is an assumption which cannot be verified by sample data based on a restricted sample of values of Z. If this assumption seems implausible, then post-stratification may help. Smith (1993) considered partitioning the variables comprising Y into measurement variables Ym and stratification variables Yq, and post-stratifying. If f (Ym Q Yqs, Z; ξ) l f (Ym Q Yqs; ξ) s s

(3)

where ξ are parameters for the post-stratification model, then inference for any Z is available. This condition implies that, given the observed values Ym of s the stratification variables, Z gives no further information concerning the measurement variables. This approach provides a way of validating certain inferences based on a convenience sample, where Z is an indicator variable defining the sample. Smith (1983) also considered ignorability for quota sampling schemes. He proposed modeling selection into a quota sample in two stages, selection into a larger sample for whom quota variables Yq are recorded, followed by selection into the final sample, based on a unit’s quota variables and the requirements to fill the quota. For the final sample, the variables of interest Ym are recorded. Two ignorability conditions result, requiring that at neither stage does probability of selection, given Yq and Z, depend on Ym. 13469

Sample Sur
eys: Nonprobability Sampling This formal framework makes clear, through expressions such as (2) and (3) when model-based inferences from nonprobability samples can and cannot be used to provide justifiable population inferences. However, it is important to realize that the assumptions required to ensure ignorability cannot be verified using the sample data alone. They remain assumptions which need to be subjectively justified before extending any inferences to a wider population. These formal concepts of ignorability confirm more heuristic notions of what is likely to comprise a good nonprobability sampling scheme. For example, opinion polls with a large element of self-selection are highly unlikely to result in an ignorable selection. On the other hand one might have much more faith in a carefully constructed quota sampling scheme, where data collectors are assigned to narrowly defined geographical areas, chosen using a probability sampling scheme, and given restrictive guidelines on choosing the units to satisfy their quota.

4. Discussion The distinction between probability sampling and nonprobability sampling is necessarily coarse. At one extreme is a carefully constructed probability survey with no nonresponse; at the other extreme is a sample chosen entirely for the investigator’s convenience. However, most surveys fall between these two extremes, and therefore strictly should be considered as nonprobability samples. Examples include quota surveys of households where the geographical areas for investigation are chosen using a probability sample, or statistical experiments where a convenience sample of units is assigned treatments using a randomization scheme. The validity of any inferences extended to a wider population depends on the extent to which the selection of units is ignorable for the inference required. This applies equally to any survey with nonresponse. The presence of nonresponders in a probability survey introduces a nonprobability element into the selection mechanism. Considerations of ignorability (of nonresponse) now need to be considered. However, surveys with probability sampling usually make a greater effort to minimize nonresponse than nonprobability surveys, where there is little incentive to do so. Furthermore, even with nonresponse, it is easier to justify ignorability of a probability sampling mechanism. Further details concerning specific issues may be obtained from the sources referenced above. Alternative perspectives on nonprobability sampling are provided by general texts on sampling such as Hansen et al. (1953), Stephan and McCarthy (1958) and Moser and Kalton (1971). See also: Sample Surveys, History of; Sample Surveys: Survey Design Issues and Strategies 13470

Bibliography Bradley N 1999 Sampling for internet surveys. An examination of respondent selection for internet research. Journal of the Market Research Society 41: 387–95 Deville J-C 1991 A theory of quota surveys. Sur
ey Methodology 17: 163–81 Doll R, Hill A B 1964 Mortality in relation to smoking: ten years’ observations of British doctors. British Medical Journal 1: 1399–410 Fienberg S E, Tanur J M 1989 Combining cognitive and statistical approaches to survey design. Science 243: 1017–22 Hansen M H, Hurwitz W N, Madow W G 1953 Sample Sur
ey Methods and Theory. Volume 1: Methods and Applications. Wiley, New York Lynn P, Jowell R 1996 How might opinion polls be improved? The case for probability sampling. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society A 159: 21–8 Market Research Society Working Party 1994 The Opinion Polls and the 1992 General Election. Market Research Society, London Marsh C, Scarborough E 1990 Testing nine hypotheses about quota sampling. Journal of the Market Research Society 32: 485–506 Moser C A, Kalton G 1971 Sur
ey Methods in Social In
estigation. Heinemann, London Moser C A, Stuart A 1953 An experimental study of quota sampling (with discussion). Journal of the Royal Statistical Society A 116: 349–405 Mosteller F, Hyman H, McCarthy P J, Marks E S, Truman D B 1949 The Pre-election Polls of 1948: Report to the Committee on Analysis of Pre-election Polls and Forecasts. Social Science Research Council, New York Rubin D B 1976 Inference and missing data. Biometrika 63: 581–92 Smith T M F 1983 On the validity of inferences from nonrandom samples. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society A 146: 394–403 Smith T M F 1996 Public opinion polls: the UK general election, 1992. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society A 159: 535–45 Smith T M F, Sugden R A 1988 Sampling and assignment mechanisms in experiments, surveys and observational studies. International Statistical Re
iew 56: 165–80 Stephan F F, McCarthy P J 1958 Sampling Opinions. An Analysis of Sur
ey Procedure. Wiley, New York Taylor H 1995 Horses for courses: how survey firms in different countries measure public opinion with very different methods. Journal of the Market Research Society 37: 211–19 Worcester R 1996 Political polling: 95% expertise and 5% luck. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society A 159: 5–20

J. J. Forster

Sample Surveys: Survey Design Issues and Strategies A treatment of survey questions intended to be useful to those wishing to carry out or interpret actual surveys should consider several issues: the basic difference between questions asked in surveys and

Sample Sur
eys: Sur
ey Design Issues and Strategies questions asked in ordinary social interaction; the problems of interpreting tabulations based on single questions; the different types of survey questions that can be asked; the possibility of bias in questioning; and the insights that can be gained by combining standard survey questions with randomized experiments that vary the form, wording, and context of the questions themselves. Each of these issues is treated in this article.

1. The Unique Nature of Sur
ey Questioning A fundamental paradox of survey research is that we start from the purpose of ordinary questioning as employed in daily life, yet our results are less satisfactory for that purpose than for almost any other. In daily life a question is usually asked because one person wishes information from another. You might ask an acquaintance how many rooms there are in her house, or whether she favors the legalization of abortion in America. The assumption on both sides of the interaction is that you are interested in her answers in and of themselves. We can call such inquiries ordinary questions. In surveys we use similar inquiries—that is, their form, their wording, and the manner of their asking are seldom sharply distinguishable from ordinary questions. At times we may devise special formats, with names like Likert-type or forced-choice, but survey questions cannot depart too much from ordinary questioning because the essential nature of the survey is communication with people who expect to hear and respond to ordinary questions. Not surprisingly, respondents believe that the interviewer or questionnaire is directly interested in the facts and opinions they give, just as would an acquaintance who asked the same questions. They may not assume a personal interest in their answers, but what they do assume is that their answers will be combined with the answers of all others to give totals that are directly interpretable. Thus, if attitudes or opinions are inquired into, the survey is viewed as a kind of referendum and the investigator is thought to be interested in how many favor and how many oppose legalized abortion or whatever else is at issue. If facts are being asked about, the respondent expects a report telling how many people have what size homes, or whatever the inquiry is about. (By factual data we mean responses that correspond to a physical reality and could, in principle, be provided by an observer as well as by a respondent, for example, when counting rooms. By attitudinal data we mean responses that concern subjective phenomena and therefore depend on self-reports by respondents. The distinction is not airtight: for example, the designation of a respondent’s ‘race’ can be based on self-report but also on the observations of others, and the two may differ without either being

clearly ‘wrong.’) In this article the focus will be on attitudes, including opinions, beliefs, and values, though much of the discussion can be applied to factual data as well. Experienced survey researchers know that a simple tally of responses to a question—what survey researchers refer to as the ‘marginals’—are usually too much a function of the way the question was asked to allow for any simple interpretation. The results of questions on legalized abortion depend heavily on the conditions, definitions, and other subtleties presupposed by the question wording, and the same is true to an extent even for a question on how many rooms there are in a house. Either we must keep a question quite general in phrasing and leave the definitions, qualifications, and conditions up to each respondent—which invites unseen variations in interpretation—or we must try to make the question much more limited in focus than was usually our goal in the first place. Faced with these difficulties in interpreting univariate results from separate questions, survey investigators can proceed in one or both of two directions. One approach is to ask a wide range of questions on an issue and hope that the results can be synthesized into a general conclusion, even though this necessarily involves a fair amount of judgment on the part of the researcher. The other direction—the one that leads to standard survey analysis—is to hold constant the question (or the index, if more than a single item is being considered) and make comparisons across time or other variables. We may not be sure of exactly what 65 percent means in terms of general support for legalized abortion, but we act on the assumption that if the question wording and survey conditions have been kept constant, we can say, within the limits of sampling error, that it represents such and such an increase or decrease from an earlier survey that asked the same question to a sample from the same population. Or if 65 percent is the figure for men and 50 percent is the figure for women, a sex difference of approximately 15 percent exists. Moreover, research indicates that in most cases relationships are less affected by variations in the form of question than are univariate distributions—generalized as the rule of ‘form-resistant correlations’ (Schuman and Presser 1981). The analytic approach, together with use of multiple questions (possibly further combined on the basis of a factor analytic approach), can provide a great deal of understanding and insight into an attitude, though it militates against a single summary statement of the kind that the respondents expect to hear. (Deming’s (1968, p. 601) distinction between enumerative and analytic studies is similar, but he treats the results from enumerative studies as unproblematic, using a simple factual example of counting number of children. In this article, univariate results based on attitude questions are regarded as questionable attempts to simulate actual 13471

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eys: Sur
ey Design Issues and Strategies referenda. Thus the change in terminology is important.) This difference between what respondents expect— the referendum point of view—and what the sophisticated survey researcher expects—the analytic point of view—is often very great. The respondent in a national survey believes that the investigator will add up all the results, item by item, and tell the nation what Americans think. But the survey investigator knows that such a presentation is usually problematic at best and can be dangerously misleading at worst. Moreover, to make matters even more awkward, political leaders often have the same point of view as respondents: they want to know how many people favor and how many oppose an issue that they see themselves as confronting. Yet it may be neither possible nor desirable for the survey to pose exactly the question the policy maker has in mind, and in any case such a question is likely to be only one of a number of possible questions that might be asked on the issue.

2. Problems with the Referendum Point of View There are several reasons why answers obtained from isolated questions are usually uncertain in meaning. First, many public issues are discussed at a general level as though there is a single way of framing them and as though there are just two sides. But what is called the abortion issue, to follow our previous example, consists of a large number of different issues having to do with the reasons for abortion, the trimester involved, and so forth. Likewise, what is called ‘gun control’ can involve different types of guns and different kinds of controls. Except at the extremes, exactly which of these particular issues is posed and with what alternatives makes a considerable difference in the univariate results. Indeed, often what is reported as a conflict in findings between two surveys is due to their having asked about different aspects of the same general issue. A second problem is that answers to survey questions always depend on the form in which the question is asked, because most respondents treat that form as a constraint on their answers. If two alternatives are given by the interviewer, most respondents will choose one, rather than offering a substitute of their own that they might prefer. For example, in one survey-based experiment the authors identified the problems spontaneously mentioned when a national sample of Americans was asked to name the most important problem facing the country. Then a parallel question was formulated for a comparable sample that included none of the four problems mentioned most often spontaneously, but instead four problems that had been mentioned by less than three percent of the population in toto, though with an invitation to respondents to substitute a different problem if they wished. Despite the invitation, the majority of respon13472

dents (60 percent) chose one of the rare problems offered explicitly, which reflected their unwillingness to go outside the frame of reference provided by the question (Schuman and Scott 1987). Evidently, the form of a question is treated by most people as setting the ‘rules of the game,’ and these rules are seldom challenged even when encouragement is offered. It might seem as though the solution to the rules-ofthe-game constraint is to keep questions ‘open’—that is, not to provide specific alternatives. This is often a good idea, but not one that is failsafe. In a related experiment on important events and changes from the recent past, ‘the development of computers’ was not mentioned spontaneously nearly as often as economic problems, but when it was included in a list of past events along with economic problems, the development of computers turned out to be the most frequent response (Schuman and Scott 1987). Apparently people asked to name an important recent event or change thought that the question referred only to political events or changes, but when the legitimacy of a different kind of response was made explicit, it was heavily selected. Thus a question can be constraining even when it is entirely open and even when the investigator is unaware of how it affects the answers respondents give. A third reason for the limitations of univariate results is the need for comparative data to make sense in interpretation. Suppose that a sample of readers of this article is asked to answer a simple yes\no question as to its value, and that 60 percent reply positively and 40 percent negatively. Leaving aside all the problems of question wording discussed thus far, such percentages can be interpreted only against the backdrop of other articles. If the average yes percentage for all articles is 40 percent, the author might feel proud of his success. If the average is 80 percent, the author might well hang his head in shame. We are all aware of the fundamental need for this type of comparison, yet it is easy to forget about the difficulty of interpreting absolute percentages when we feel the urge to speak definitively about public reactions to a unique event. Finally, in addition to all of the above reasons, there are sometimes subtle features of wording that can affect answers. A classic example of a wording effect is the difference between ‘forbidding’ something and ‘not allowing’ the same thing (Rugg 1941). A number of survey experiments have shown that people are more willing to ‘not allow’ a behavior than they are to ‘forbid’ the same behavior, even though the practical effects of the distinction in wording are nil (Holleman 2000). Another subtle feature is context: for example, a question about abortion in the case of a married woman who does not want any more children is answered differently depending on whether or not it is preceded by a question about abortion in the case of a defective fetus (Schuman and Presser 1996 [1981]). The problems of wording and context appear equally when an actual referendum is to be carried out

Sample Sur
eys: Sur
ey Design Issues and Strategies by a government: considerable effort is made by politicians on all sides of the issue to control the wording of the question to be voted on, as well as its placement on the ballot, with the battle over these decisions sometimes becoming quite fierce. This shows that there is never a single way to phrase a referendum and that even small variations in final wording or context can influence the outcome of the voting. The same is true for survey questions, but with the crucial difference that they are meant to provide information, not to determine policy in a definitive legal sense. The analytic approach, when combined with use of multiple questions to tap different aspects of an issue, provides the most useful perspective on survey data. Rather than focusing on the responses to individual items as such, the analysis of change over time and of variations across demographic and social background variables provides the surest route to understanding both attitudinal and factual data. Almost all important scholarly work based on surveys follows this path, giving attention to individual percentages only in passing. In addition, in recent years, classic betweensubjects experiments have been built into surveys, with different ways of asking a question administered to random subsamples of a larger probability sample in order to learn about the effects of question wording (Schuman and Presser 1996 [1981]). These surveybased experiments, traditionally called ‘split-ballots,’ combine the advantage of a probability sample survey to generalize to a much larger population with the advantage of randomized treatments to test causal hypotheses. Survey-based experiments have been used to investigate a variety of methodological uncertainties about question formulations, as we will see below, and are also employed increasingly to test hypotheses about substantive political and social issues.

3. Types of Sur
ey Questions When investigators construct a questionnaire, they face a number of decisions about the form in which their questions are to be asked, though the decisions are often not made on the basis of much reflection. The effects of such decisions were first explored in surveybased experiments conducted in the mid-twentieth century and reported in books by Cantril (1944) and Payne (1951). In 1981 (1996), Schuman and Presser provided a systematic review of variations due to question form, along with much new experimental data. Recent books by Sudman et al. (1996), Tanur (1992), Tourangeau et al. (2000), and Krosnick and Fabrigar (forthcoming) consider many of these same issues, as well as a number of additional ones, drawing especially on ideas and research from cognitive psychology(seealsoQuestionnaires:Cogniti
eApproaches; Sample Sur
eys: Cogniti
e Aspects of Sur
ey Design).

An initial important decision is whether to ask a question in open or closed form. Open questions, where respondents answer in their own words and these are then coded into categories, are more expensive in terms of both time and money than closed questions that present two or more alternatives that respondents choose from. Hence, open questions are not common in present-day surveys, typically being restricted to questions that attempt to capture rapid change and that are easy to code, as in standard inquiries about ‘the most important problem facing the country today.’ In this case, immediate salience is at issue and responses can usually be summarized in keyword codes such as ‘unemployment,’ ‘terrorism,’ or ‘race relations.’ An open-ended approach is also preferable when numerical answers are wanted, for example, how many hours of television a person watches a week. Schwarz (1996) has shown that offering a specific set of alternatives provides reference points that can shape answers, and thus it is probably better to leave such questions open, as recommended by Bradburn et al. (1979). More generally, open and closed versions of a question often do lead to different univariate response distributions and to different multivariate relations as well (Schuman and Presser 1996, [1981]). Partly this is due to the tendency of survey investigators to write closed questions on the assumption that they themselves know how to frame the main choices, which can lead to their overlooking alternatives or wording especially meaningful to respondents. Many years ago Lazarsfeld (1944) proposed as a practical compromise the use of open questions in the early development of a questionnaire, with the results then drawn on to frame closed alternatives that would be more efficient for use in an actual survey. What has come to be called ‘cognitive interviewing’ takes this same notion into the laboratory by studying carefully how a small number of individuals think about the questions they are asked and about the answers they give (see several chapters in Schwarz and Sudman 1996). This may not eliminate all open\closed differences, but it helps investigators learn what is most salient and meaningful to respondents. Even after closed questions are developed, it is often instructive to include follow-up ‘why’ probes of answers in order to gain insight into how respondents perceived the questions and what they see their choices as meaning. Since it is not practical to ask such followups to all respondents about all questions, Schuman (1966) recommended the use of a ‘random probe’ technique to obtain answers from a subsample of the larger sample of questions and respondents. When the focus is on closed questions, as it often is, a number of further decisions must be made. A frequently used format is to state a series of propositions, to each of which the respondent is asked to indicate agreement or disagreement. Although this is an efficient way to proceed, there is considerable 13473

Sample Sur
eys: Sur
ey Design Issues and Strategies evidence that a substantial number of people, especially those with less education, show an ‘acquiescence bias’ when confronted with such statements (Krosnick and Fabrigar forthcoming). The main alternative to the agree\disagree format is to require respondents to make a choice between two or more statements. Such a balanced format encourages respondents to think about the opposing alternatives, though it also requires investigators to reduce each issue to clearly opposing positions. Another decision faced by question writers is how to handle DK (don’t know) responses. The proportion of DK answers varies not only by the type of issue—there are likely to be more to a remote foreign policy issue than to a widely discussed issue like legalization of abortion (Converse 1976–77)—but also by how much DK responses are encouraged or discouraged. At one extreme, the question may offer a DK alternative as one of the explicit choices for respondents to consider, even emphasizing the desirability of it being given if the respondent lacks adequate information on the matter. At the other extreme interviewers may be instructed to urge those who give DK responses to think further in order to provide a more substantive answer. In between, a DK response may not be mentioned by the interviewer but can be accepted when volunteered. Which approach is chosen depends on one’s beliefs about the meaning of a DK response. Those who follow Converse’s (1964) emphasis on the lack of knowledge that the majority of people possess about many public issues tend to encourage respondents to consider a DK response as legitimate. Those who argue like Krosnick and Fabrigar forthcoming) that giving a DK response is mainly due to ‘satisficing’ prefer to press respondents to come up with a substantive choice. Still other possibilities are that DKs can involve evasion in the case of a sensitive issue (e.g., racial attitudes) and in such cases it is unclear what respondents will do if prevented from giving a DK response. A more general methodological issue is the desirability of measuring attitude strength. Attitudes are typically defined as favorable or unfavorable evaluations of objects, but the evaluations can also be seen as varying in strength. One can strongly favor or oppose the legalization of abortion, for example, but hold an attitude toward gun registration that is weaker, or vice versa. Further, there is more than one way to measure the dimension of strength, as words like ‘extremity,’ ‘importance,’ ‘certainty,’ and ‘strength’ itself suggest, and thus far it appears that the different methods of measurement are far from perfectly correlated (Petty and Krosnick 1995). Moreover, although there is evidence that several of these strength measures are related to actual behavior, for example, donating money to one side of the dispute about the legalization of abortion, in the case of gun registration the relation has been much weaker, 13474

apparently because other social factors (i.e., the effectiveness of gun lobbying organizations) play a large role independent of attitude strength (Schuman and Presser 1996 [1981].

4. Question Wording and Bias Every question in a survey must be conveyed in words and words are never wholly neutral and unproblematic. Words have tone, connotation, implication— which is why both a referendum and a survey are similar in always coming down to a specific way of describing an issue. Of course, sometimes a question seems to have been deliberately biased, as when a ‘survey’ mailed out by a conservative organization included the following question: Do you believe that smut peddlers should be protected by the courts and the Congress, so they can openly sell pornographic materials to your children?

But more typical are two versions of a question that was asked during the Vietnam War: If a situation like Vietnam were to develop in another part of the world, do you think the United States should or should not send troops [to stop a communist takeo
er]?

Mueller (1973) found that some 15 percent more Americans favored military action when the bracketed words were included than when they were omitted. Yet it is not entirely clear how one should regard the phrase ‘to stop a communist takeover’ during that period. Was it ‘biasing’ responses to include the phrase, or was it simply informing respondents of something they might like to have in mind as they answered? Furthermore, political leaders wishing to encourage or discourage an action can choose how to phrase policy issues, and surveys cannot ignore the force of such framing if they wish to be relevant to important political outcomes. Another instructive example was the attempt to study attitudes during the 1982 war between Argentina and Britain over ownership of a small group of islands in the South Atlantic. It was virtually impossible to phrase a question that did not include the name of the islands, but for the Argentines they were named the Malvinas and for the British the Falkland Islands. Whichever name was used in a question could be seen as prejudicing the issue of ownership. This is an unusual example, but it shows that bias in survey questions is not a simple matter.

5. Conclusion In this sense, we return to the fundamental paradox of survey research—the referendum point of view vs. the analytic point of view. We all wish at times to know

Sample Sur
eys: The Field what the public as a whole feels about an important issue—whether it involves military intervention in a distant country or a domestic issue like government support for health care. Therefore, we need to remind both ourselves and the public of the limitations of univariate survey results, while at the same time taking whatever steps we can to reduce those limitations. Above all, this means avoiding the tendency to reduce a complex issue to one or two simple closed questions, because every survey question imposes a unique perspective on responses, whether we think of this as ‘bias’ or not. Moreover, survey data are most meaningful when they involve comparisons, especially comparisons over time and across important social groups—provided that the questions have been kept as constant in wording and meaning as possible. From a practical standpoint, probably the most useful way to see how the kinds of problems discussed here can be addressed is to read significant substantive analyses of survey data, for example, classics like Stouffer (1955) and Campbell et al. (1960), and more recent works that grapple with variability and bias, for example, Page and Shapiro (1992) and Schuman et al. (1997).

Bibliography Cantril H 1944 Gauging Public Opinion. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Bradburn N M, Sudman S, with assistence of Blair E, Locander W, Miles C, Singer E, Stocking C 1979 Impro
ing Inter
iew Method and Questionnaire Design. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco Campbell A, Converse P E, Miller W E, Stokes D E 1960 The American Voter. Wiley, New York Converse J M 1987 Sur
ey Research in the United States: Roots & Emergence 1890–1960. University of California Press, Berkeley, CA Converse P 1964 The nature of belief systems in mass publics. In: Apter D E (ed.) Ideology and Discontent. Free Press, New York Converse J M 1976–7 Predicting no opinion in the polls. Public Opinion Quarterly? 40: 515–30 Deming W E 1968 Sample surveys: the field. In: Sills D (ed.) International Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences. Macmillan, New York, Vol. 13, pp. 594–612 Holleman B H 2000 The Forbid\Allow Asymmetry: On the Cogniti
e Mechanisms Underlying Wording Effects in Sur
eys. Rodopi, Amsterdam Krosnick J A, Fabrigar L A forthcoming Designing Great Questionnaires: Insights from Social and Cogniti
e Psychology. Oxford University Press, Oxford, UK Lazarsfeld P E 1944 The controversy over detailed interviews— an offer to negotiate. Public Opinion Quarterly 8: 38–60 Mueller J E 1973 War, Presidents, and Public Opinion. Wiley, New York Page B I, Shapiro R Y 1992 The Rational Public: Fifty Years of Trends in Americans’ Policy Preferences. University of Chicago Press, Chicago Payne S L 1951 The Art of Asking Questions. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ

Petty R E, Krosnick J A (eds.) 1995 Attitude Strength: Antecedents and Consequences. Erlbaum, Mahwah, NJ Rugg D 1941 Experiments in wording questions: II. Public Opinion Quarterly 5: 91–2 Schuman H 1966 The random probe: a technique for evaluating the validity of closed questions. American Sociological Re
iew 21: 218–22 Schuman H, Presser S 1981 Questions and Answers in Attitude Sur
eys: Experiments on Question Form, Wording, and Context. Academic Press, New York [reprinted 1996, Sage Publications, Thousand Oaks, CA] Schuman H, Scott J 1987 Problems in the use of survey questions to measure public opinion. Science 236: 957–9 Schuman H, Steeh C, Bobo L, Krysan M 1997 Racial Attitudes in America: Trends and Interpretations. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA Schwarz N 1996 Cognition and Communication: Judgmental Biases, Research Methods, and the Logic of Con
ersation. Erlbaum, Mahwah, NJ Schwarz N, Sudman S (eds.) 1996 Answering Questions. JosseyBass, San Francisco Stouffer S A 1955 Communism, Conformity, and Ci
il Liberties. Doubleday, New York Sudman S, Bradburn N B, Schwarz N 1996 Thinking About Answers: The Application of Cogniti
e Processes to Sur
ey Methodology. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco Tanur J M (ed.) 1992 Questions About Questions: Inquiries Into the Cogniti
e Bases of Sur
eys. Russell Sage Foundation, New York Tourangeau R, Ripps L J, Rasinski K A 2000 The Psychology of Sur
ey Response. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK

H. Schuman

Sample Surveys: The Field 1. Definition of Sur
ey Sampling Survey sampling can be defined as the art of selecting a sample of units from a population of units, creating measurement tools for measuring the units with respect to the survey variables and drawing precise conclusions about the characteristics of the population or of the process that generated the values of the units. A more specific definition of a survey is the following (Dalenius 1985): (a) A sur
ey concerns a set of objects comprising a population. One class of population concerns a finite set of objects such as individuals, businesses, and farms. Another, concerns events during a specific time period, such as crime rates and sales. A third class concerns plain processes, such as land use or the occurrence of certain minerals in an area. More specifically one might want to define a population as, for example, all noninstitutionalized individuals 15–74 years of age living in Sweden on May 1, 2000. (b) This population has one or more measurable 13475

Sample Sur
eys: The Field properties. Examples of such properties are individuals’ occupations, business’ revenues, and the number of elks in an area. (c) A desire to describe the population by one or more parameters defined in terms of these properties. This calls for observing (a sample of ) the population. Examples of parameters are the proportion of unemployed individuals in the population, the total revenue of businesses in a certain industry sector during a given time period and the average number of elks per square mile. (d) In order to get observational access to the population, a frame is needed i.e., an operational representation, such as a list of the population objects or a map of the population. Examples of frames are business and population registers; maps where the land has been divided into areas with strictly defined boundaries; or all n-digit numbers, which can be used to link telephone numbers to individuals. Sometimes the frame has to be developed for the occasion because there are no registers available and the elements have to be listed. For general populations this is done by combining a multi-stage sampling and the listing procedure by letting the survey field staff list all elements in sampled areas only. Other alternatives would be too costly. For special populations, for example, the population of professional baseball players in the USA, one would have to combine all club rosters into one frame. In some surveys there might exist a number of frames covering the population to varying extents. For this situation a multiple frame theory has been developed (see Hartley 1974). (e) A sample of sampling units is selected from the frame in accordance with a sampling design, which specifies a probability mechanism and a sample size. There are numerous sample designs (see Sample Sur
eys: Methods) developed for different survey situations. The situation may be such that the design chosen solves a problem (using multistage sampling when not all population elements can be listed, or when interviewer and travel costs prevent the use of simple random sampling of elements) or takes advantage of the circumstances (using systematic sampling, if the population is approximately ordered, or using stratified sampling if the population is skewed). Every sample design specifies selection probabilities and a sample size. It is imperative that selection probabilities are known, or else the design is nonmeasurable. (f ) Observations are made on the sample in accordance with a measurement design i.e., a measurement method and a prescription as to its use. This phase is called data collection. There are at least five different main modes of data collection: face-to-face interviewing, telephone interviewing, self-administered questionnaires and diaries, administrative records, and direct observation. Each of these modes can be conducted using different levels of technology. Early attempts using the computer took place in the 13476

1970s, in telephone interviewing. The questionnaire was stored in a computer and a computer program guided the interviewer throughout the interview by automatically presenting questions on the screen and taking care of some interviewer tasks such as keeping track of skip patterns and personalizing the interview. This technology is called CATI (Computer Assisted Telephone Interviewing). Current levels of technology for the other modes include the use of portable computers for face to face interviewing, touch-tone data entry using the telephone key pad, automatic speech recognition, satellite images of land use and crop yields, ‘people meters’ for TV viewing behaviors, barcode scanning in diary surveys of purchases, electronic exchange of administrative records, and Internet. Summaries of these developments are provided in Lyberg and Kasprzyk (1991), DeLeeuw and Collins (1997), Couper et al. (1998) and Dillman (2000). Associated with each mode is the survey measurement instrument or questionnaire. The questionnaire is the result of a conceptualization of research objectives i.e., a set of properly worded and properly ordered questions. The design of the questionnaire is a science of its own. See for example Tanur (1992) and Sudman et al. (1996). (g) Based on the measurements an estimation design is applied to compute estimates of the parameters when making inference from the sample to the population. Associated with each sampling design are one or more estimators that are functions of the data that have been collected to make statements about the population parameters. Sometimes estimators rely solely on sample data, but on other occasions auxiliary information is part of the function. All estimators include sample weights that are used to inflate the sample data. To calculate the error of an estimate, variance estimators are formed, which makes it possible to calculate standard errors and eventually confidence intervals. See Cochran (1977) and Sa$ rndal et al. (1992) for comprehensive reviews of the sampling theory.

2. The Status of Sur
ey Research There are many types of surveys and survey populations that fit this definition. A large number of surveys are one-time surveys aiming at measuring attitudes or other population behaviors. Some surveys are continuing, thereby allowing the estimation of change over time. An example of this is a monthly labor force survey. Typically such a survey uses a rotating design where a sampled person is interviewed a number of times. One example of this is that the person participates 4 months in a row, is rotated out of the sample for the next 4 months and then rotates back for a final 4 months. Other surveys aim at comparing different populations regarding a certain characteristic, such as the literacy level in different countries. Business

Sample Sur
eys: The Field surveys often study populations where there are a small number of large businesses and many smaller ones. In the case where the survey goal is to estimate a total, it might be worthwhile to deliberately cut off the smallest businesses from the frame or select all large businesses with a probability of one and the smaller ones with other probabilities. Surveys are conducted by many different organizations. There are national statistical offices producing official statistics, there are university-based organizations conducting surveys as part of the education and there are private organizations conducting surveys on anything ranging from official statistics to marketing. The survey industry employs more than 130,000 people only in the USA, and the world figure is of course much larger. Survey results are very important to society. Governments get continuing information on parameters like unemployment, national accounts, education, environment, consumer price indexes, etc. Other sponsors get information on e.g., political party preferences, consumer satisfaction, child day-care needs, time use, and consumer product preferences. As pointed out by Groves (1989), the field of survey sampling has evolved through somewhat independent and uncoordinated contributions from many disciplines including statistics, sociology, psychology, communication, education and marketing research. Representatives of these disciplines have varying backgrounds and as a consequence tend to emphasize different design aspects. However, during the last couple of decades, survey research groups have come to collaborate more as manifested by, for instance, the edited volumes such as Groves et al. (1988), Biemer et al. (1991), Lyberg et al. (1997), and Couper et al. (1998). This teamwork development will most likely continue. Many of the error structures resulting from specific sources must be dealt with by multi-disciplinary teams since the errors stem from problems concerning sampling, recall, survey participation, interviewer practices, question comprehension, and conceptualization. (See Sample Sur
eys: Cogniti
e Aspects of Sur
ey Design.) The justification for sampling (rather than surveying the entire population, a total enumeration) is lower costs but also greater efficiency. Sampling is faster and less expensive compared to total enumeration. Perhaps more surprisingly, sampling often allows a more precise measurement of each sampled unit than that possible in a total enumeration. This often leads to sample surveys having quality features that are superior to those of total enumerations. Sampling as an intuitive tool has probably been used for centuries, but the development of a theory of survey sampling did not start until the late 1800s. Main contributors to this early development, frequently referred to as ‘the representative method,’ were Kiaer (1897), Bowley (1913, 1926), and Tschuprow (1923). Apart from various inferential aspects they discussed issues such as stratified sam-

pling, optimum allocation to strata, multistage sampling, and frame construction. In the 1930s and the 1940s most of the basic methods that are used today were developed. Fisher’s randomization principle was applied to sample surveys and Neyman (1934, 1938) introduced the theory of confidence intervals, cluster sampling, ratio estimation, and two-phase sampling. The US Bureau of the Census was perhaps the first national statistical office to embrace and further develop the theoretical ideas suggested. For example, Morris Hansen and William Hurwitz (1943, 1949) and Hansen et al. (1953) helped place the US Labor Force Survey on a full probability-sampling basis and they also led innovative work on variance estimation and the development of a survey model decomposing the total survey mean squared error into various sampling and bias components. Other important contributions during that era include systematic sampling (Madow and Madow 1944), regression estimation (Cochran 1942), interpenetrating samples (Mahalanobis 1946) and master samples (Dalenius 1957). More recent efforts have concentrated on allocating resources to the control of various sources of error i.e., methods for total survey design, taking not only sampling but also nonsampling errors into account. A more comprehensive review of historical aspects are provided in Sample Sur
eys, History of.

3. The Use of Models While early developments focused on methods for sample selection in different situations and proper estimation methods, later developments have to a large extent focused on theoretical foundations and the use of probability models for increasing the efficiency of the estimators. There has been a development from implicit modeling to explicit modeling. The model traditionally used in the early theory is based on the view that what is observed for a unit in the population is basically a fixed value. This approach may be called the ‘fixed population approach.’ The stochastic nature of the estimators is a consequence of the deliberately introduced randomization among the population units. A specific feature of survey sampling is the existence of auxiliary information i.e., known values of a concomitant variable, which is in some sense related to the variable under study, so that it can be used to improve the precision of the estimators. The relationship between the variable under study and the auxiliary variables are often expressed as linear regression models, which often can be interpreted as expressing the belief (common or the sampler’s own) concerning the structure of the relationship between the variables. Such modeling is used extensively in early textbooks, see Cochran 1953. A somewhat different approach is to view the values of the variables 13477

Sample Sur
eys: The Field as realizations of random variables using probability models. In combination with the randomization of the units this constitutes what is called the superpopulation approach. Model based inference is used to draw conclusions based solely on properties of the probability models ignoring the randomization of the units. Design based inference on the other hand ignores the mechanism that generated the data and concentrates on the randomization of the units. In general, model-based inference for estimating population parameters like means of subgroups can be very precise if the model is true but may introduce biased estimates if the model is false, while design-based inference leads to unbiased, but possibly inferior estimates of the population parameters. Model assisted inference is a compromise that aims at utilizing models in such a way that, if the model is true the precision is high, but if the model is false the precision will be no worse than if no model had been used. (See Sample Sur
eys: Model-based Approaches.) As an example, we want to study a population of families in a country. We want to analyse the structure of disposable income for the households and find out the relation between factors like age, sex, education, the number of household members, and the disposable income for a family. A possible model of the data generating process could be that the disposable income is a linear function of these background variables. There is also an element of unexplained variation between families having the same values of the background variables. Also, the income will fluctuate from year to year depending on external variation in society. All this shows that the data generating process could be represented by a probability model where the disposable income is a linear function of background variables and random errors over time and between families. The super population model would be the set of models describing how the disposable income is generated for the families. For inferential purposes, a sample of families is selected. Different types of inference can be considered. For instance we might be interested in giving a picture of the actual distribution of the disposable income in the population at the specific time when we selected the sample, or we might be interested in estimating the coefficients of the relational model either because we are genuinely interested in the model itself e.g., for prediction of a future total disposable income for the population, which would be of interest for sociologists, economists and decision makers, or for using the model as a tool for creating more efficient estimators of the fixed distribution, given for example that the distribution of sex and age is known with reasonable accuracy in the population and can be used as auxiliary information. Evidently, the results would depend on the constellation of families comprising our sample. If we use a sample design that over-represents the proportion of large households or young households with small 13478

children, compared to the population, the inference based on the sample can be misleading. Model-based inference ignores the sample selection procedure and assumes that the inference conditional on the sample is a good representation of what would have been the case if all families had been surveyed. Design-based inference ignores the data generation process and concentrates on the artificial randomisation induced by the sampling procedure. Model-assisted inference uses models as tools for creating more precise estimates. Broadly speaking, model-based inference is mostly used in the case when the relational model is of primary interest. This is the traditional way of analysing sample data as given in textbooks in statistical theory. Design-based inference on the other hand is the traditional way of treating sample data in survey sampling. It is mainly focused on giving a picture of the present state of the population. Model-assisted inference uses models as tools for selecting estimators, but relies on design properties. It too is mainly focused on picturing the present state in the population. Modern textbooks such as Cassel et al. (1977) and Sa$ rndal et al. (1992) discuss the foundations of survey sampling and make extensive use of auxiliary information in the survey design. The different approaches mentioned above have their advocates, but most of the surveys conducted around the world still rely heavily on design-based approaches with implicit modeling. But models are needed to take nonsampling errors into account since we do not know exactly how such errors are generated. To make measurement errors part of the inference procedure, one has to make assumptions about the error structures. Such error structures concern cognitive issues, question wording and perception, interviewer effects, recall errors, untruthful answers, coding, editing and so on and so forth. Similarly, to make errors of nonobservation (frame coverage and nonresponse errors) part of the inference procedure, one needs to model the mechanisms that generate these errors. The compromise called model-assisted inference takes advantage of both design and model- based features. Analysis of data from complex surveys denotes the situation that occurs when the survey statistician is trying to estimate the parameters of a model used for description of a random phenomenon, for example econometric or sociological models such as time series models, regression models or structural equation models. It is assumed that the data available are sample survey data that have been generated by some sampling mechanism that does not support the assumption of independent identically distributed (IID) observations on a random variable. The traditional inference developed for the estimation of parameters of the model (and not for estimating the population parameters) presupposes that IID is at hand. In some cases, traditional inference based on e.g., maximum likelihood gives misleading results. Comprehensive reviews of analysis of data from complex surveys are

Sample Sur
eys: The Field provided by Skinner et al. (1989) and Lehtonen and Pahkinen (1995). The present state of affairs is that there is a relatively well-developed sampling theory. The theory of nonsampling errors is still in its infancy, however. A typical scenario is that survey methodologists try to reduce potential errors by using for example, cognitively tested questionnaires and various means to stimulate survey participation, and these things are done to the extent available resources permit. However, not all nonsampling error sources are known and some that are known defy expression. The error reduction strategy can be complemented by sophisticated modeling of error structures. Unfortunately, a rather common implicit modeling seems to be that nonsampling errors have no serious effect on estimates. In some applications, attempts are made to estimate the total error or error components by evaluation techniques, i.e., for a subsample of the units, the survey is replicated using expensive ‘gold standard’ methods and the differences between the preferred measurements and the regular ones are used as estimates of the total errors. This is an expensive and time-consuming procedure that is not very suitable for long-range improvements. A more modern and realistic approach is to develop reliable and predictable (stable) survey processes that can be continuously improved (Morganstein and Marker 1997).

4. Conclusions Obviously there are a number of future challenges in the field of survey sampling. We will provide just a few examples: (a) Many surveys are conducted in a primitive way because of limited funding and knowhow. The development of more efficient designs taking nonsampling errors into account at the estimation stage is needed. There is also a need for strategies that can help allocate resources to various design stages so that total errors are minimized. Sometimes those in charge of surveys concentrate their efforts on the most visible error sources or where there is a tool available. For instance, most survey sponsors know that nonresponse might be harmful. The indicator of nonresponse error, the nonresponse rate, is both simple and visible. Therefore it might be tempting to put most resources into this error source. On the other hand, not many users are aware of the cognitive phenomena that affect the response delivery mechanism. Perhaps from a total error point of view more resources should be spent on questionnaire design. (b) Modern technology permits simultaneous use of multiple data collection modes within a survey. Multiple modes are used to accommodate respondents, to increase response rates and to allow inexpensive data collection when possible. There are, however, mode effects and

there is a need for calibration techniques that can adjust the measurements or the collection instruments so that the mode effect vanishes. (c) International surveys are becoming increasingly important. Most methodological problems mentioned are inflated under such circumstances. Especially interesting is the concept of cultural bias. Cultural bias means that concepts and procedures are not uniformly understood, interpreted, and applied across geographical regions or ethnical subpopulations. To define and measure the impact of such bias is an important challenge. See also: Databases, Core: Demography and Registers; Databases, Core: Political Science and Political Behavior; Databases, Core: Sociology; Microdatabases: Economic; Survey Research: National Centers

Bibliography Biemer P, Groves R, Lyberg L, Mathiowetz N, Sudman S 1991 Measurement Errors in Sur
eys. Wiley, New York Bowley A L 1913 Working-class households in reading. Journal of the Royal Statistical Society 76: 672–701 Bowley A L 1926 Measurement of the precision attained in sampling. Proceedings of the International Statistical Institute XII: 6–62 Cassel C-M, Sa$ rndal C-E Wretman J 1977 Foundations of Inference in Sur
ey Sampling. Wiley, New York Cochran W G 1942 Sampling theory when the sampling-units are of unequal sizes. Journal of the American Statistical Association 37: 199–212 Cochran W G 1953 Sampling Techniques, 1st edn. Wiley, New York Cochran W G 1977 Sampling Techniques, 3rd edn. Wiley, New York Couper M, Baker R, Bethlehem J, Clark C, Martin J, Nicholls W, O’Reilly J 1998 Computer Assisted Sur
ey Information Collection. Wiley, New York Dalenius T 1957 Sampling in Sweden. Almqvist and Wiksell, Stockholm, Sweden Dalenius T 1985 Elements of Sur
ey Sampling. Notes prepared for the Swedish Agency for Research Cooperation with Developing Countries (SAREC) DeLeeuw E, Collins M 1997 Data collection methods and survey quality: An overview. In: Lyberg L, Biemer P, Collins M, DeLeeuw E, Dippo C, Scwarz N, Trewin D (eds.) Sur
ey Measurement and Process Quality. Wiley, New York Dillman D 2000 Mail and Internet Sur
eys: The Tailored Design Method, 2nd edn, Wiley, New York Groves R 1989 Sur
ey Errors and Sur
ey Costs. Wiley, New York Groves R, Biemer P, Lyberg L, Massey J, Waksberg J (eds.) 1988 Telephone Sur
ey Methodology. Wiley, New York Hansen M H, Hurwitz W N 1943 On the theory of sampling from finite populations. Annals of Mathematical Statistics 14: 333–62 Hansen M H, Hurwitz W N 1949 On the determination of optimum probabilities in sampling. Annals of Mathematical Statistics 20: 426–32

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eys: The Field Hansen M H, Hurwitz W N, Madow W G 1953 Sample Sur
ey Methods and Theory (I and II). Wiley, New York Hartley H O 1974 Multiple methodology and selected applications. Sankhya, Series C 36: 99–118 Kiaer A N 1897 The representative method for statistical surveys (original in Norwegian). Kristiania Videnskabsselskabets Skrifter. Historisk-filosofiske klasse 4: 37–56 Lehtonen R, Pahkinen E J 1995 Practical Methods for Design and Analysis of Complex Sur
eys. Wiley, New York Lyberg L, Biemer P, Collins M, DeLeeuw E, Dippo, C, Schwarz N, Trewin D (eds.) 1997 Sur
ey Measurement and Process Quality. Wiley, New York Lyberg L, Kasprzyk D 1991 Data collection methods and measurement error: An overview. In: Biemer P, Groves R, Lyberg L, Mathiowetz N, Sudman S (eds.) Measurement Errors in Sur
eys. Wiley, New York Madow W G, Madow L H 1944 On the theory of systematic sampling, I. Annals of Mathematical Statistics 15: 1–24 Mahalanobis P C 1946 On large-scale sample surveys. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society London, Series B 231: 329–451 Morganstein D, Marker D 1997 Continuous Quality Improvement in Statistical Agencies. In Lyberg L, Biemer P, Collins M, DeLeeuw E, Dippo C, Scwarz N, Trewin D (eds.) Sur
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L. Lyberg and C. M. Cassel

Sanctions in Political Science A sanction is an action by one actor (A) intended to affect the behavior of another actor (B) by enhancing or reducing the values available to B. Influence attempts by A using actual or threatened punishments of B are instances of negative sanctions. Influence attempts by A using actual or promised rewards to B are instances of positive sanctions. Not all influence attempts involve sanctions. Actor A may influence actor B by reason, example, or the provision of information without the use of sanctions. 13480

1. Concepts Although the definitions of positive and negative sanctions may appear simple, there are both conceptual and empirical difficulties in distinguishing between the two. Some things take the form of positive sanctions, but actually are not; e.g., giving a bonus of $100 to an employee who expected a bonus of $500, or promising not to kill a person who never expected to be killed in the first place. Likewise, some things take the form of negative sanctions, but actually are not; e.g., a threat to reduce the salary of a person who expected to be fired or the beating of a masochist. Is withholding a reward ever a punishment? Always a punishment? Is withholding a punishment ever a reward? Always a reward? The answers depend on Actor B’s perception of the situation. In order to distinguish rewards from punishments one must establish B’s baseline of expectations at the moment A’s influence attempt begins (Blau 1986). This baseline is defined in terms of B’s expected future value position, i.e., expectations about B’s future position relative to the things B values. Positive sanctions, then, are actual or promised improvements in B’s value position relative to B’s baseline of expectations, and negative sanctions are actual or threatened deprivations relative to the same baseline.

2. Historical Context Although references to both positive and negative sanctions can be traced to the seventeenth century, the most common usage of the term ‘sanctions’ refers to negative sanctions. Until the mid-twentieth century, sanctions were viewed primarily as mechanisms for enforcing societal norms, including those embodied in laws. Although this normative view of sanctions continues in legal theory, ethics, political theory, and sociology (Barry 1995, Coleman 1990, Waldron 1994), a broader usage has emerged in political science during the latter part of the twentieth century. This broader usage depicts sanctions as potentially relevant to any type of influence attempt, regardless of whether it is aimed at enforcing social norms or not. This usage is typically found in discussions of influence and power (Baldwin 1971, 1989, Blau 1986, Oppenheim 1981, Lasswell and Kaplan 1950).

3. Kinds of Sanctions Since sanctions are defined in terms of the values of the target of an influence attempt (actor B), they may take a variety of forms. Lasswell and Kaplan (1950) identified eight exemplary values that could serve as the basis for positive or negative sanctions: power, wealth, rectitude, physical well-being, affection, skill, and enlightenment.

Sanctions in Political Science Although it is sometimes suggested that positive and negative sanctions are opposites in the sense that generalizations about one type are equally applicable to the other, mutatis mutandis, this is often not true. Listed below are some of the hypothesized differences between positive and negative sanctions.

argue that force is the ultimate influence technique. Identifying the conditions under which one type of sanction is more effective than another is likely to continue as a focus of research in political science as well as in other social sciences.

3.5 Legitimation 3.1 A’s Burden of Response When A’s influence attempt is based on a promise, B’s compliance obligates A to respond with a reward; whereas B’s failure to comply calls for no further response from A.

3.2 Role of Costs One important consequence of the asymmetry between positive and negative sanctions is that promises tend to cost more when they succeed, while threats tend to cost more when they fail (Boulding 1989, Parsons 1963, Schelling 1960). The difference can be summarized as follows: The bigger the threat, the higher the probability of success; the higher the probability of success, the less the probability of having to implement the threat; the less the probability of having to implement the threat, the cheaper it is to make big threats. The bigger the promise, the higher the probability of success; the higher the probability of success, the higher the probability of having to implement the promise; the higher the probability of having to implement the promise, the more expensive it is to make big promises (ceteris paribus).

It is usually easier to legitimize demands based on positive sanctions than demands based on negative ones. An example is provided by one of the most important social institutions in the world—the institution of private property. Most societies have one set of rules specifying the conditions under which a person may be deprived of property and quite a different set of rules specifying conditions under which one person may augment another person’s property.

4. Foreign Policy Sanctions Political scientists interested in international relations and foreign policy have devoted a great deal of research to sanctions during the last two decades of the twentieth century. Most of this research has focused on economic sanctions, with comparatively little attention devoted to military, diplomatic, or other noneconomic forms of sanctions. Although progress has occurred with respect to systematic gathering of empirical data (Hufbauer et al. 1990), refinement of concepts (Baldwin 1985), and development of theories, social scientific research on the role of sanctions in international relations is still in its infancy.

3.3 Indicators of Success

4.1 Methodological Problems

Whereas a successful threat requires no action by A, a successful promise obligates A to implement that sanction. In a well-integrated social system, where the probability that B will comply with A’s wishes is relatively high, promises will be more visible than threats. Indeed, it is precisely because threats are so successful in domestic politics that they are so difficult to detect. Since most citizens obey most laws most of the time, threats to punish lawbreakers have to be carried out with respect to only a small minority of citizens in most polities.

Five methodological problems provide useful foci for future research: (a) Lack of agreement on terms and concepts. While some scholars conceive of economic sanctions in terms of mechanisms for making any type of influence attempt (Baldwin 1985), others define economic sanctions in terms of particular policy goals (Pape 1997). This lack of agreement on basic concepts not only impedes debate within the field of foreign policy studies, it is an obstacle to crossfertilization between the study of economic sanctions in foreign policy and discussions of other kinds of sanctions in other areas of social science. (b) Preoccupation with economic sanctions. Research on economic sanctions has been largely insulated from research on other techniques of statecraft. This insulation sometimes gives the impression that economic sanctions are sui generis, rather than treating them as a particular type of statecraft. Although actual or threatened military force is a military sanction, it too is usually viewed as a unique focus of

3.4 Efficacy The question of the relative efficacy of positive versus negative sanctions in exercising influence has been much debated. Parson (1963) has argued that negative sanctions have more intrinsic effectiveness than positive sanctions in deterrence situations. And ever since Machiavelli and Hobbes, there have been those who

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Sanctions in Political Science inquiry. In order to understand when and why policy makers use economic sanctions, it is necessary to understand the alternatives among which policy makers choose. These alternatives include diplomatic, military, and\or verbal sanctions (propaganda). Future research on sanctions might usefully focus on comparative studies of alternative types of sanctions and the conditions under which each type is most likely to be cost-effective. (c) Neglect of positi
e sanctions. Research on sanctions is heavily skewed toward negative sanctions. This is true not only of research by international relations scholars, but also of political science in general. During the last two decades, research on positive sanctions has increased (Davis 2000, Newnham 2000), but the emphasis is still disproportionately on negative sanctions. (d) Lack of agreement on criteria of success. Scholars disagree as to which criteria should be used in measuring the success of economic sanctions. Some consider only the effectiveness of the influence attempt in achieving its goals (Morgan and Schwebach 1997, Pape 1997). Others argue that estimates of success should take into consideration the costs of the sanctions to the user, the costs for noncompliance inflicted on the target, the difficulty of the undertaking, and the comparative utility of alternative policy options (Baldwin 1985, 2000). This lack of agreement on how to conceive of success is not peculiar to the international relations literature. Unlike economics, political science lacks a standardized measure of value in terms of which success can be measured. There is much less agreement among political scientists as to what constitutes political success than there is among economists as to what constitutes economic success (Baldwin 1989). Developing a set of agreed upon criteria of success applicable to noneconomic, as well as economic, sanctions would be a valuable step in sanctions research. (e) Premature generalization. Research on economic sanctions by international relations scholars frequently leads to premature attempts to specify policy implications. Some scholars, for example, imply that only foolish policy makers would use such policy instruments (Morgan and Schwebach 1997, Tsebelis 1990). In order to make judgements as to the wisdom of using economic sanctions in a given situation, however, one would need to know how effective such sanctions were likely to be, with respect to which goals and targets, at what cost, and in comparison with which policy alternatives (Baldwin 2000). Current research on economic sanctions rarely asks such questions. See also: Control: Social; Deterrence; Diplomacy; Efficacy: Political; Foreign Policy Analysis; Game Theory; Law: Economics of its Public Enforcement; Legal Culture and Legal Consciousness; Legitimacy: Political; National Security Studies and War Potential 13482

of Nations; Norms; Power: Political; Punishment, Comparative Politics of; Punishment: Social and Legal Aspects; Utilitarianism: Contemporary Applications

Bibliography Baldwin D A 1971 The power of positive sanctions. World Politics 24: 19–38 Baldwin D A 1985 Economic Statecraft. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Baldwin D A 1989 Paradoxes of Power. Basil Blackwell, New York Baldwin D A 2000 The sanctions debate and the logic of choice. International Security 24: 80–107 Barry B 1995 Justice as Impartiality. Clarendon Press, Oxford, UK Blau P M 1986 Exchange and Power in Social Life. Transaction, New Brunswick, NJ Boulding K E 1989 Three Faces of Power. Sage, Newbury, CA Coleman J S 1990 Foundations of Social Theory. Belknap, Cambridge, MA Davis J W 2000 Threats and Promises: The Pursuit of International Influence. The Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, MD Hufbauer G C, Schott J J, Elliott K A 1990 Economic Sanctions Reconsidered, 2nd edn. Institute for International Economics, Washington, DC Lasswell H D, Kaplan A 1950 Power and Society: A Framework for Political Inquiry. Yale University Press, New Haven, CT Morgan T C, Schwebach V L 1997 Fools suffer gladly: The use of economic sanctions in international crises. International Studies Quarterly 41: 27–50 Newnham R E 2000 More flies with honey: Positive economic linkage in German Ostpolitik from Bismarck to Kohl. International Studies Quarterly 44: 73–96 Oppenheim F E 1981 Political Concepts: A Reconstruction. University of Chicago Press, Chicago Pape R A 1997 Why economic sanctions do not work. International Security 22: 90–136 Parsons T 1963 On the concept of political power. Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 107: 232–62 Schelling T C 1960 The Strategy of Conflict. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA Tsebelis G 1990 Are sanctions effective? A game-theoretic analysis. Journal of Conflict Resolution 34: 3–28 Waldron J 1994 Kagan on requirements: Mill on sanctions. Ethics 104: 310–24

D. A. Baldwin

Sapir, Edward (1884–1939) 1. General Career Edward Sapir was born in Lauenburg, Germany (now Lebork, Poland) on January 26, 1884, but his family emigrated to the United States when he was five years old and eventually settled in New York City. His

Sapir, Edward (1884–1939) brilliance earned him a full scholarship to the prestigious Horace Mann School and subsequently a Pulitzer fellowship to Columbia College, where he received his BA in 1904. He continued with graduate work in Germanic philology, but was soon drawn into Franz Boas’s orbit and took up an anthropological career, for which he proved extraordinarily well fitted. In 1905 he began a series of field visits to the West that resulted in the detailed documentation of several American Indian languages and cultures, including Wishram Chinook, Takelma, Yana, Southern Paiute, and Nootka. The speed and accuracy with which Sapir collected linguistic and ethnographic data has probably never been surpassed, and his notes, even from his earliest field trips, are among the most valuable manuscripts in American Indian studies. After receiving his doctorate from Columbia in 1909 with a dissertation on the Takelma language, Sapir taught briefly at the University of Pennsylvania, and in 1910 became Chief of the Division of Anthropology in the Geological Survey of Canada. He remained in this position until 1925, making the Nootka (Nuuchahnulth) language the focus of his research from 1910 to 1914. Between 1915 and 1920, when World War I and its aftermath brought field work to a halt, he devoted a considerable amount of time to the comparative linguistics of North American languages, establishing the Na-Dene relationship between Athabaskan, Tlingit, and Haida, and proposing expansions of the Penutian and Hokan stocks to include a large number of languages in North and Central America. During this period he also began making a name for himself as a literary and social commentator, and began publishing his experimental poetry. Sapir married Florence Delson in 1911, and they had three children. Shortly after the birth of their third child in 1918, Florence Sapir began to manifest signs of serious illness, partly psychological in character. Although his wife’s deteriorating health became a great concern to Sapir, and her death in 1924 was emotionally devastating, he remained committed to the intensive field documentation of American Indian languages, and in 1922 commenced an Athabaskan research program that eventually encompassed fullscale descriptive studies of Sarsi, Kutchin (Gwich’in), Hupa, and Navajo. This work was motivated partly by Sapir’s conviction that a historical relationship could be demonstrated between the Na-Dene languages of North America and the Sino-Tibetan languages of East Asia. After the publication of his highly influential book Language (1921) Sapir was regarded widely as one of the leading linguists of his generation. In 1925 he accepted Fay-Cooper Cole’s offer of an academic position in the newly reorganized Department of Anthropology and Sociology at the University of Chicago. The move from Ottawa, and his second marriage to Jean McClenaghan, with whom he was to

have two more children, was an emotional and intellectual watershed. He found the interdisciplinary atmosphere at Chicago stimulating and increasingly he addressed general and theoretical topics in his professional writing. He also began contributing sprightly and provocative essays on general social and cultural topics to such publications as Mencken’s American Mercury. While much of his teaching was in linguistics and he took a leading role in establishing that discipline as an autonomous field of study, Sapir also became involved in developing a general model for social science. After he moved to Yale in 1931 as Sterling Professor of Anthropology and Linguistics he became interested particularly in a psychologically realistic paradigm for social research (see Irvine 1999) and led a seminar on personality and culture. Meanwhile linguistic work on Athabaskan, specifically Navajo, continued to absorb him, and the prospect of finding remote connections of the Na-Dene languages in Asia had led him to the study of Tibetan and Chinese. This extraordinarily diverse agenda was abruptly suspended in the summer of 1937 when Sapir suffered a serious heart attack, from which he never fully recovered. After a year and a half of precarious health and restricted activity he died in New Haven, Connecticut on February 4, 1939, a few days after his 55th birthday.

2. Scientific Contribution Sapir’s scientific work can be divided into three distinct parts. First, there is his substantive work in descriptive and comparative linguistics, almost entirely devoted to North American Indian languages. Second, there is his role in establishing the paradigm for twentieth century linguistic research. Finally, there are the flashes of insight—seldom elaborated into formal hypotheses—with which Sapir from time to time illuminated the landscape of linguistic and social theory.

2.1 Substanti
e Work on Languages The face that American Indian linguistics presents to the world at the beginning of the twenty-first century probably owes more to Sapir than to any other scholar. When Sapir took up the anthropological study of American Indian languages in 1905, the field was dominated by the classificatory concerns of John Wesley Powell’s Bureau of American Ethnology, which saw as its principal task the identification of language and dialect boundaries, and the grouping of languages into families whose historical relationship was undoubted. Only a few earlier scholars like Pickering and Humboldt had been interested in the 13483

Sapir, Edward (1884–1939) general philological study of these languages. It was Franz Boas, Sapir’s mentor at Columbia, who first proposed making comparative investigation of the grammatical structures of American Indian languages (and of non-European languages generally) a topic for sustained scientific research. Drawing his model from a German tradition of associating language and social behavior that led back through Steinthal to Humboldt, Boas impressed upon his anthropological students the necessity of understanding how linguistic ‘morphology’ (by which he meant grammatical structure) channeled ideas into expressive forms. Unfortunately for Boas, few of his students were equipped either by training or by intellectual inclination to carry out linguistic research of a more than superficial kind. The only significant exception was Sapir, whom one may imagine was attracted to Boas’s anthropology for precisely this reason. From his earliest fieldwork on Wishram Chinook in 1905, Sapir made grammatical analysis the centerpiece of his research, and from his first publications portrayed American Indian languages with a descriptive clarity they had seldom before enjoyed. His accomplishments are legendary to the scholars who today study these languages, and must rank in the first tier of the grammarian’s art. The most renowned of his published studies include a full grammar of Takelma, a now-extinct language of southern Oregon (1922); a full grammar and dictionary of Southern Paiute (1930–31\1992); and an outline grammar of Nootka, with texts and vocabulary, prepared with the assistance of Swadesh (1939). Sapir’s grammatical descriptions are couched in a metalanguage derived from European comparative philology, tempered by Boas’s insistence that the structure of every language is sui generis. In discussions of the evolution of grammatical theory, Sapir’s grammars are sometimes portrayed as ‘processual’ or as early examples of ‘generative’ descriptions, but such labels imply a theoretical deliberation that was uncharacteristic of Sapir’s work. His concern was to explicate the patterns of the language under consideration as lucidly and unambiguously as possible, not to test a general theory of linguistic structure. The aptness with which Sapir’s descriptions captured the spirit of the languages he analyzed is no better illustrated than by his model of Athabaskan grammar. Although in this case it was not embodied in a full grammatical treatment, he laid out the basic features of his descriptive system for Athabaskan in a number of shorter works, and passed it on to his students and successors through his teaching and in his files. Sixty years after his death it remains the standard descriptive model for all work in Athabaskan linguistics, regardless of the theoretical stance of the analyst. Throughout his career Sapir maintained a deep interest in historical relationships among languages. He took pride in extending the rigor of the reconstructive method to American Indian language 13484

families, and laid the foundations for the comparative study of both Uto-Aztecan and Athabaskan. In the 1930s he returned to Indo-European linguistics and made major contributions to the Laryngeal Hypothesis (the proposal, originating with Ferdinand de Saussure, that the phonology of Proto-Indo-European included one or more laryngeal or pharyngeal consonants not attested in the extant IndoEuropean languages).

2.2

The Professionalization of American Linguistics

By 1921, Sapir was able to draw on the analytic details of the American Indian languages on which he had worked to illustrate, in his book Language, the wide variety of grammatical structures represented in human speech. One of the most significant impacts of this highly successful book was to provide a model for the professionalization of academic linguistics in the US during the 1920s and early 1930s. Under Sapir’s guidance, a distinctive American School of linguistics arose, focused on the empirical documentation of language, primarily in field situations. Although most of the students Sapir himself trained at Chicago and Yale worked largely if not exclusively on American Indian languages, the methods that were developed were transferable to other languages. In the mid-1930s Sapir directed a project to analyze English, and during World War II many of Sapir’s former students were recruited to use linguistic methods to develop teaching materials for such strategically important languages as Thai, Burmese, Mandarin, and Russian. A distinction is sometimes drawn between the prewar generation of American linguists—dominated by Sapir and his students and emphasizing holistic descriptions of American Indian languages—and the immediate postwar generation, whose more rigid and focused formal methods were codified by Leonard Bloomfield and others. Since many of the major figures of ‘Bloomfieldian’ linguistics were Sapir’s students, this distinction is somewhat artificial, and a single American Structuralist tradition can be identified extending from the late 1920s through 1960 (Hymes and Fought 1981). There is little doubt that Sapir’s influence on this tradition was decisive.

3. Theoretical Insights From his earliest work under Boas, Sapir’s independent intellectual style often carried him well beyond the bounds of the academic paradigm he was ostensibly working within. He was not, however, a programmatic thinker, and his groundbreaking work, while deeply admired by his students and colleagues, seldom resulted in significant institutional changes, at least in the short term. The cliche! ‘ahead of his time’ is

Sapir, Edward (1884–1939) especially apt in Sapir’s case, and the influence of some of his views continues to be felt. This is most striking in structural linguistics, where Sapir must certainly be accounted one of the most influential figures of the twentieth century. As early as 1910 Sapir was commenting on the importance of formal patterning in phonology, and in the 1920s he was among the first to enunciate the ‘phonemic principle’ which later figured importantly in his teaching at Chicago and Yale. Characteristically, he left it to his students and such colleagues as Leonard Bloomfield to formalize an analytic methodology, while he himself pursued the psychological implications of formal patterning. Sapir’s (1917) trenchant critique of the culture concept, particularly as defined by A. L. Kroeber, was largely ignored at the time. Sapir argued that the attribution of cultural patterning to an emergent ‘superorganic’ collective consciousness was an intellectual dead-end, and that research would be better directed at understanding the individual psychology of collective patterned behavior. While Kroeber’s view was undoubtedly the dominant one in anthropology and general social science for much of the twentieth century, Sapir’s analysis is much more consistent with recent models of human sociocultural behavior that have been developed by evolutionary psychologists. The fact that Sapir’s views came from someone with extraordinary insight into the elaborate self-referential patterns of language—traditionally, the most formalized and objectified of social behaviors—can hardly be accidental, and again is consistent with recent developments in cognitive science. In the late 1920s Sapir found an important intellectual ally in Harry Stack Sullivan, a psychiatrist whose interpersonal theory of the genesis of schizophrenia resonated with Sapir’s views (Perry 1982). The two became close friends, and together with Harold Lasswell they planned and organized the William Alanson White Psychiatric Foundation, a research and teaching institution that ultimately was located in Washington, DC. In the year before he died Sapir gave serious consideration to leaving Yale and working with Sullivan in a research position at the Foundation. Sapir’s views on the history of language were linked to his view of the abstraction of patterns, and were equally controversial or misunderstood. A distinction must be drawn between Sapir’s work, noted earlier, as a historical linguist within a family of languages whose relationship was secure (Athabaskan, Uto-Aztecan, Indo-European), and his explorations of much less certain relationships (Hokan, Penutian, Na-Dene) and possible interhemispheric connections (Sino-Dene). In the former, Sapir worked—with characteristic creativity and insight—with tools and models derived from a long tradition of comparative linguistics. In the latter, it was (or seemed to his contemporaries) often a matter of brilliant intuition. In fact, in this work he

usually relied on an assessment of similarities in structural pattern that distinguished features susceptible to unconscious change from generation to generation (e.g., regular inflectional patterns, words) from those that are largely inaccessible to individual cognition. Although he never offered a theoretical explication, his idea of what constituted ‘deep’ linguistic patterns was exemplified in his classification of North and Central American Indian languages (1929). This classification, which remains influential, is still untested in its own terms.

4. Impact and Current Importance A charismatic teacher, Sapir had a succession of highly motivated students both at Chicago and at Yale, the most prominent among them Morris Swadesh (who collaborated with him on Nootka research), Harry Hoijer (who codified Sapir’s analysis of Athabaskan grammar), Mary R. Haas, Stanley Newman, C. F. Voegelin, George L. Trager, Zellig Harris, David G. Mandelbaum, and Benjamin L. Whorf. Through these students Sapir exercised a considerable posthumous influence on intellectual and institutional developments in both linguistics and in anthropology through the 1960s. A postwar collection of Sapir’s most important general papers, edited by Mandelbaum (1949), was widely read and is still consulted. Harris’ (1951) extended review of this book provides a comprehensive summary of Sapir’s oeu
re as it was understood by his immediate circle. Sapir is cited most frequently today for the ‘Sapir–Whorf Hypothesis’ of linguistic relativity, a name that inaccurately implies an intellectual collaboration between Sapir and his Yale student, Benjamin Whorf, who himself died in 1941. The more correctly designated ‘Whorf theory complex’ (Lee 1996) was a retrospective construct that derived largely from writings of Whorf’s that were unpublished at the time of Sapir’s death. Although undoubtedly stimulated by Sapir’s writing and teaching, Whorf’s proposal that the structure of a language to some extent determines the cognitive and behavioral habits of its speakers cannot be connected directly with Sapir’s mature thought on the psychology of language and culture. Sapir’s most enduring achievement is his own descriptive linguistic work. Long after the writings of most of his contemporaries have been forgotten, Sapir’s grammatical studies continue to be held in the highest esteem. In recent years his holistic analytic technique has been emulated by a number of linguists seeking an alternative to narrow formalism, particularly when working with American Indian or other indigenous languages. Sapir’s life and work was the subject of a 1984 conference (Cowan et al. 1986), from which emerged a plan to publish a standard edition of all of Sapir’s work, including edited versions of unfinished manu13485

Sapir, Edward (1884–1939) scripts; by year 2000 seven volumes had appeared. A biography by Darnell (1990) is useful for the externals of Sapir’s career, but her reluctance to give an intellectual account of Sapir’s work, particularly in linguistics, leaves some important issues still to be addressed (Silverstein 1991). See also: Archaeology and the History of Languages; Historical Linguistics: Overview; Language and Ethnicity; Language and Thought: The Modern Whorfian Hypothesis; Linguistic Anthropology; Linguistic Fieldwork; Linguistic Typology; Linguistics: Comparative Method; North America and Native Americans: Sociocultural Aspects; North America, Archaeology of; North America: Sociocultural Aspects; Phonology; Population Composition by Race and Ethnicity: North America; Psycholinguistics: Overview; Sapir–Whorf Hypothesis; Sociolinguistics

Bibliography Cowan W, Foster M K, Koerner K (eds.) 1986 New Perspecti
es in Language, Culture and Personality. Benjamins, Amsterdam and Philadelphia Darnell R 1990 Edward Sapir: Linguist, Anthropologist, Humanist. University of California Press, Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA Harris Z S 1951 Review of D G Mandelbaum (ed.). Selected writings of Edward Sapir in language, culture, and personality. Language 27: 288–333 Hymes D, Fought J 1981 American Structuralism. Mouton, The Hague, The Netherlands Irvine J T (ed.) 1999 The psychology of culture: A course of lectures by Edward Sapir, 1927–1937. In: The Collected Works of Edward Sapir, Vol. 3, Culture. Mouton de Gruyter, Berlin and New York, pp. 385–686 [also published as a separate volume, The Psychology of Culture, Mouton de Gruyter 1993] Lee P 1996 The Whorf Theory Complex: A Critical Reconstruction. Benjamins, Amsterdam and Philadelphia Mandelbaum D M (ed.) 1949 Selected Writings of Edward Sapir in Language, Culture, and Personality. University of California Press, Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA Perry H S 1982 Psychiatrist of America: The Life of Harry Stack Sulli
an. Belknap Press, Cambridge, UK and London Sapir E 1917 Do we need a ‘superorganic’? American Anthropologist 19: 441–47 Sapir E 1921 Language. Harcourt Brace, New York Sapir E 1922 The Takelma language of Southwestern Oregon. In: Boas F (ed.) Handbook of American Indian Languages, Part 2. Bureau of American Ethnology, Washington, DC Sapir E 1929 Central and North American Indian languages. Encyclopaedia Britannica, 14th edn. Vol. 5, pp. 138–41 Sapir E 1930–31\1992 The Southern Paiute Language. The Collected Works of Edward Sapir, Vol. 10. Mouton de Gruyter, Berlin and New York Sapir E, Swadesh M 1939 Nootka Texts: Tales and Ethnological Narrati
es with Grammatical Notes and Lexical Materials. Linguistic Society of America, Philadelphia Silverstein M 1991 Problems of Sapir historiography. Historiographia Linguistica 18: 181–204

V. Golla 13486

Sapir–Whorf Hypothesis 1. Nature and Scope of the Hypothesis The Sapir–Whorf hypothesis, also known as the linguistic relativity hypothesis, refers to the proposal that the particular language one speaks influences the way one thinks about reality. Although proposals concerning linguistic relativity have long been debated, American linguists Edward Sapir (1884–1939) and Benjamin Lee Whorf (1897–1941) advanced particularly influential formulations during the second quarter of the twentieth century, and the topic has since become associated with their names. The linguistic relativity hypothesis focuses on structural differences among natural languages such as Hopi, Chinese, and English, and asks whether the classifications of reality implicit in such structures affect our thinking about reality more generally. Analytically, linguistic relativity as an issue stands between two others: a semiotic-level concern with how speaking any natural language whatsoever might influence the general potential for human thinking (i.e., the general role of natural language in the evolution or development of human intellectual functioning), and a functional- or discourse-level concern with how using any given language code in a particular way might influence thinking (i.e., the impact of special discursive practices such as schooling and literacy on formal thought). Although analytically distinct, the three issues are intimately related in both theory and practice. For example, claims about linguistic relativity depend on understanding the general psychological mechanisms linking language to thinking, and on understanding the diverse uses of speech in discourse to accomplish acts of descriptive reference. Hence, the relation of particular linguistic structures to patterns of thinking forms only one part of the broader array of questions about the significance of language for thought. Proposals of linguistic relativity necessarily develop two linked claims among the key terms of the hypothesis (i.e., language, thought, and reality). First, languages differ significantly in their interpretations of experienced reality—both what they select for representation and how they arrange it. Second, language interpretations have influences on thought about reality more generally—whether at the individual or cultural level. Claims for linguistic relativity thus require both articulating the contrasting interpretations of reality latent in the structures of different languages, and assessing their broader influences on, or relationships to, the cognitive interpretation of reality. Simple demonstrations of linguistic di
ersity are sometimes mistakenly regarded as sufficient in themselves to prove linguistic relativity, but they cannot in themselves show that the language differences affect thought more generally. (Much confusion arises in this

Sapir–Whorf Hypothesis regard because of the practice in linguistics of describing the meaningful significance of individual elements in a language as ‘relative to’ the grammatical system as a whole. But this latter relativity of the meaning of linguistic elements to the encompassing linguistic structure should be distinguished from broader claims for a relativity of thought more generally to the form of the speaker’s language.) A variety of other arguments to the effect that distinctive perceptual or cognitive skills are required to produce and comprehend different languages likewise usually fail to establish any general effects on thought (see Niemeier and Dirven 2000). Linguistic relativity proposals are sometimes characterized as equivalent to linguistic determinism, that is the view that all thought is strictly determined by language. Such characterizations of the language– thought linkage bear little resemblance to the proposals of Sapir or Whorf, who spoke in more general terms about language influencing habitual patterns of thought, especially at the conceptual level. Indeed, no serious scholar working on the linguistic relativity problem as such has subscribed to a strict determinism. (There are, of course, some who simply equate language and thought, but under this assumption of identity, the question of influence or determinism is no longer relevant.) Between the patent linguistic diversity that nearly everyone agrees exists and a claim of linguistic determinism that no one actually espouses, lies the proposal of linguistic relativity, that is the proposal that our thought may in some way be taken as relative to the language spoken.

2. Historical De
elopment of the Hypothesis Interest in the intellectual significance of the diversity of language categories has deep roots in the European tradition (Aarsleff 1988, Werlen 1989, Koerner 1992). Formulations related to contemporary ones appear during the Enlightenment period in the UK (Locke), France (Condillac, Diderot), and Germany (Hamman, Herder). They are stimulated variously by opposition to the universal grammarians, by concerns about the reliability of language-based knowledge, and by practical efforts to consolidate national identities and cope with colonial expansion. Most of this work construes the differences among languages in terms of a hierarchical scheme of adequacy with respect to reality, to reason, or to both. Later, nineteenth-century work in Germany by Humboldt and in France\Switzerland by Saussure drew heavily on this earlier tradition and set the stage for the approaches of Sapir and Whorf. Humboldt’s arguments, in particular, are often regarded as anticipating the Sapir–Whorf approach. He argued for a linguistic relativity according to the formal processes used by a language (e.g., inflection, agglutination, etc.). Ultimately this remains a hierarchical relativity in which certain language types (i.e.,

European inflectional ones) are viewed as more adequate vehicles of thought and civilization—a view distinctly at odds with what is to follow. Working within the US anthropological tradition of Franz Boas and stimulated by the diversity and complexity of Native American languages, Edward Sapir (1949) and Benjamin Lee Whorf (1956) reinvigorated and reoriented investigation of linguistic relativity in several ways (Lucy 1992a, Lee 1997). First, they advocated intensive first-hand scientific investigation of exotic languages; second, they focused on structures of meaning, rather than on formal grammatical process such as inflection; and third, they approached these languages within a framework of egalitarian regard. Although not always well understood, theirs is the tradition of linguistic relativity most widely known and debated today. Whorf’s writings, in particular, form the canonical starting point for all subsequent discussion. Whorf proposed a specific mechanism for how language influences thought, sought empirical evidence for language effects, and articulated the reflexive implications of linguistic relativity for scholarly thought itself. In his view, each language refers to an infinite variety of experiences with a finite array of formal categories (both lexical and grammatical) by grouping experiences together as analogically ‘the same’ for the purposes of speech. The categories in a language also interrelate in a coherent way, reinforcing and complementing one another, so as to constitute an overall interpretation of experience. These linguistic classifications vary considerably across languages not only in the basic distinctions they recognize but also in the assemblage of these categories into a coherent system of reference. Thus the system of categories which each language provides to its speakers is not a common, universal system, but a particular ‘fashion of speaking.’ Whorf argued that these linguistic structures influence habitual thought by serving as a guide to the interpretation of experience. Speakers tend to assume that the categories and distinctions of their language are entirely natural and given by external reality, and thus can be used as a guide to it. When speakers attempt to interpret an experience in terms of a category available in their language, they unwittingly involve other language-specific meanings implicit in that particular category and in the overall configuration of categories in which it is embedded. In Whorf’s view language does not blind speakers to some obvious reality, but rather it suggests associations which are not necessarily entailed by experience. Because language is such a pervasive and transparent aspect of behavior, speakers do not understand that the associations they ‘see’ are from language, but rather assume that they are ‘in’ the external situation and patently obvious to all. In the absence of another language (natural or artificial) with which to talk about experience, speakers will not be able to recognize 13487

Sapir–Whorf Hypothesis the conventional nature of their linguistically based understandings. Whorf argues that by influencing everyday habitual thought in this way, language can come to influence cultural institutions generally, including philosophical and scientific activity. In his empirical research Whorf showed that the Hopi and English languages treat ‘time’ differently, and that this difference corresponds to distinct cultural orientations toward temporal notions. Specifically, Whorf argued that speakers of English treat cyclic experiences of various sorts (e.g., the passage of a day or a year) in the same grammatical frame used for ordinary object nouns. Thus, English speakers are led to treat these cycles as object-like in that they can be measured and counted just like tangible objects. English also treats objects as if they each have a form and a substance. Since the cyclic words get put into this object frame, English speakers are led to ask what is the substance associated with the forms a day, a year, and so forth. Whorf argues that our global, abstract notion of ‘time’ as a continuous, homogeneous, formless something can be seen to arise to fill in the blank in this linguistic analogy. The Hopi, by contrast, do not treat these cycles as objects but as recurrent events. Thus, although they have, as Whorf acknowledged, words for what English speakers would recognize as temporal cycles (e.g., days, years, etc.), the formal analogical structuration of these terms in their grammar does not give rise to the abstract notion of ‘time’ that English speakers have. (Ironically, critics of Whorf ’s Hopi data often miss his point about structural analogy and focus narrowly on individual lexical items.) Finally, grouping referents and concepts as formally ‘the same’ for the purposes of speech has led speakers to group those referents and concepts as substantively ‘the same’ for action generally, as evidenced by related cultural patterns of belief and behavior he describes.

3. Empirical Research on the Hypothesis Although the Sapir–Whorf proposal has had wide impact on thinking in the humanities and social sciences, it has not been extensively investigated empirically. Indeed, some believe it is too difficult, if not impossible in principle, to investigate. Further, a good deal of the empirical work that was first developed was quite narrowly confined to attacking Whorf ’s analyses, documenting particular cases of language diversity, or exploring the implications in domains such as color terms that represent somewhat marginal aspects of language structure. In large part, therefore, acceptance or rejection of the proposal for many years depended more on personal and professional predilections than on solid evidence. Nonetheless, a variety of modern initiatives have stimulated renewed interest in mounting empirical assessments of the hypothesis. 13488

Contemporary empirical efforts can be classed into three broad types, depending on which of the three key terms in the hypothesis they take as their point of departure: language, reality, or thought (Lucy 1997). A structure-centered approach begins with an observed difference between languages, elaborates the interpretations of reality implicit in them, and then seeks evidence for their influence on thought. The approach remains open to unexpected interpretations of reality but often has difficulty establishing a neutral basis for comparison. The classic example of a language-centered approach is Whorf ’s pioneering comparison of Hopi and English described above. The most extensive contemporary effort to extend and improve the comparative fundamentals in a structurecentered approach has sought to establish a relation between variations in grammatical number marking and attentiveness to number and shape (Lucy 1992b). This research remedies some of the traditional difficulties of structure-centered approaches by framing the linguistic analysis typologically so as to enhance comparison, and by supplementing ethnographic observation with a rigorous assessment of individual thought. This then makes possible the realization of the benefits of the structure-centered approach: placing the languages at issue on an equal footing, exploring semantically significant lexical and grammatical patterns, and developing connections to interrelated semantic patterns in each language. A domain-centered approach begins with a domain of experienced reality, typically characterized independently of language(s), and asks how various languages select from, encode, and organize it. Typically, speakers of different languages are asked to refer to ‘the same’ materials or situations so the different linguistic construals become clear. The approach facilitates controlled comparison, but often at the expense of regimenting the linguistic data rather narrowly. The classic example of this approach, developed by Roger Brown and Eric Lenneberg in the 1950s, showed that some colors are more lexically encodable than others, and that more codable colors are remembered better. This line of research was later extended by Brent Berlin, Paul Kay, and their colleagues, but to argue instead that there are crosslinguistic uni
ersals in the encoding of the color domain such that a small number of ‘basic’ color terms emerge in languages as a function of biological constraints. Although this research has been widely accepted as evidence against the validity of linguistic relativity hypothesis, it actually deals largely with constraints on linguistic diversity rather than with relativity as such. Subsequent research has challenged Berlin and Kay’s universal semantic claim, and shown that different color-term systems do in fact influence color categorization and memory. (For discussions and references, see Lucy 1992a, Hardin and Maffi 1997, Roberson et al. 2000.) The most successful effort to improve the quality of the linguistic comparison in

Sapir–Whorf Hypothesis a domain-centered approach has sought to show cognitive differences in the spatial domain between languages favoring the use of body coordinates to describe arrangements of objects (e.g., ‘the man is left of the tree’) and those favoring systems anchored in cardinal direction terms or topographic features (e.g., ‘the man is east\uphill of the tree’) (Pederson et al. 1998, Levinson in press). This research on space remedies some of the traditional difficulties of domaincentered approaches by developing a more rigorous and substantive linguistic analysis to complement the ready comparisons facilitated by this approach. A beha
ior-centered approach begins with a marked difference in behavior which the researcher comes to believe has its roots in and provides evidence for a pattern of thought arising from language practices. The behavior at issue typically has clear practical consequences (either for theory or for native speakers), but since the research does not begin with an intent to address the linguistic relativity question, the theoretical and empirical analyses of language and reality are often weakly developed. The most famous example of a behavior-centered approach is the effort to account for differences in Chinese and English speakers’ facility with counterfactual or hypothetical reasoning by reference to the marking of counterfactuals in the two languages (Bloom 1981). The interpretation of these results remains controversial (Lucy 1992a).

4. Future Prospects Two research trends are unfolding at the present time. First, in the cognitive and psychological sciences awareness is increasing of the nature and scope of language differences. This has led to a greater number of studies focused on the possible cognitive consequences of such differences (e.g., Levinson in press, Niemeier and Dirven 2000). Second, an increasing integration is emerging among the three levels of language and thought problem (i.e., the semiotic, structural, and functional levels). On the semiotic side, for example, research on the relationship between language and thought in development is increasingly informing and informed by work on linguistic relativity (Bowerman and Levinson 2001). On the functional side, research on the relationship of cultural and discursive patterns of use is increasingly being brought into dialogue with Whorfian issues (Silverstein 1979, Friedrich 1986, Wierzbicka 1992, Hill and Mannheim 1992, Gumperz and Levinson 1996). The continued relevance of the linguistic relativity issue seems assured by the same impulses found historically: the patent relevance of language to human sociality and intellect, the reflexive concern with the role of language in scholarly practice, and the practical encounter with linguistic diversity. To this we must

add the increasing concern with the unknown implications for human thought of the impending loss of many if not most of the world’s languages (Fishman 1982). See also: Cognitive Psychology: History; Human Cognition, Evolution of; Language and Philosophy; Language and Thought: The Modern Whorfian Hypothesis; Linguistic Anthropology; Linguistics: Overview; Sapir, Edward (1884–1939); Semiotics; Wittgenstein, Ludwig (1889–1951)

Bibliography Aarsleff H 1988 Introduction. In: Von Humboldt W On Language: The Di
ersity of Human Language-structure and its Influence on the Mental De
elopment of Mankind (Heath P, trans.). Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK, pp. vii–xv Bloom A H 1981 The Linguistic Shaping of Thought. Lawrence Erlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ Bowerman M, Levinson S C 2001 Language Acquisition and Conceptual De
elopment. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Fishman J 1982 Whorfianism of the third kind: Ethnolinguistic diversity as a worldwide societal asset (The Whorfian Hypothesis: Varieties of validation, confirmation, and disconfirmation II). Language in Society 11: 1–14 Friedrich P 1986 The Language Parallax: Linguistic Relati
ism and Poetic Indeterminacy. University of Texas, Austin, TX Gumperz J J, Levinson S C (eds.) 1996 Rethinking Linguistic Relati
ity. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Hardin C L, Maffi L (eds.) 1997 Color Categories in Thought and Language. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Hill J H, Mannheim B 1992 Language and world view. Annual Re
iew of Anthropology 21: 381–406 Koerner E F K 1992 The Sapir–Whorf hypothesis: A preliminary history and a bibliographic essay. Journal of Linguistic Anthropology 2: 173–8 Lee P 1997 The Whorf Theory Complex: A Critical Reconstruction. John Benjamins, Amsterdam, The Netherlands Levinson S C in press Space in Language and Cognition: Explorations in Cogniti
e Di
ersity. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Lucy J A 1992a Language Di
ersity and Thought: A Reformulation of the Linguistic Relati
ity Hypothesis. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Lucy J A 1992b Grammatical Categories and Cognition: A Case Study of the Linguistic Relati
ity Hypothesis. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Lucy J A 1997 Linguistic relativity. Annual Re
iew of Anthropology 26: 291–312 Niemeier S, Dirven R (eds.) 2000 E
idence for Linguistic Relati
ity. John Benjamins, Amsterdam, The Netherlands Pederson E, Danziger E, Wilkins D, Levinson S, Kita S, Senft G 1998 Semantic typology and spatial conceptualization. Language 74: 508–56 Roberson D, Davies I, Davidoff J 2000 Color categories are not universal: Replications and new evidence from a stone-age culture. Journal of Experimental Psychology—General 129: 369–98

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Sapir–Whorf Hypothesis Sapir E 1949 The Selected Writings of Edward Sapir in Language, Culture, and Personality (Mandelbaum D G, ed.). University California Press, Berkeley, CA Silverstein M 1979 Language structure and linguistic ideology. In: Clyne P, Hanks W, Hofbauer C (eds.) The Elements: A Parasession on Linguistic Units and Le
els. Chicago Linguistic Society, Chicago, pp. 193–247 Werlen I 1989 Sprache, Mensch und Welt: Geschichte und Bedeutung des Prinzips der sprachlichen Relati
itaW t. Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, Darmstadt, Germany Whorf B L 1956 Language, Thought, and Reality: Selected Writings of Benjamin Lee Whorf (Carroll J B, ed.). MIT Press, Cambridge, MA Wierzbicka A 1992 Semantics, Culture, and Cognition. Uni
ersal Human Concepts in Culture-specific Configurations. Oxford University Press, Oxford, UK

J. A. Lucy

Sauer, Carl Ortwin (1889–1975) Carl Sauer was one of the towering intellectual figures of the twentieth century, not only in geography but also in a wider intellectual sphere. However, because of his wide-ranging thought, speculative sweep, and world perspective over a number of subjects, it is difficult to define his contribution to the social and behavioral sciences precisely and easily. But one can say that some of his underlying concerns were about scholarship, independence of thought, opposition to academic bureaucracy, a sympathy and identification with rural folk, concern for cultural diversity and environmental quality, and a distaste for the technological and scientific ‘fix,’ particularly the solutions offered by the emerging social sciences after 1945. He was born in Warrenton, Missouri on December 24, 1889 of German parents, and because of his background and three years of schooling in Calw (near Stuttgart) he was influenced by German culture and literature. He completed his graduate studies at Chicago University in 1915 under the geographer Ellen SempleChurchill,thegeologistRollinD.Salisbury,and plant ecologist Henry C. Cowles, the latter two of whom made a lasting intellectual impression on him. He then taught at the University of Michigan until 1923, when he moved to geography at Berkeley where he taught for 34 years (32 as Chair) and established one of the most distinctive graduate schools of American Geography that would always be associated with ‘cultural geography.’ After he retired in 1955 he enjoyed 20 remarkably productive years that saw the publication of four books and a score of influential papers, all distinguished by big and speculative ideas, that were the fruits of a lifetime’s reflection and unhurried reading. His reputation soared so that an ‘aura of sage, philosopher-king, and even oracle surrounded him’ (Hooson 1981, p. 166). He died in Berkeley on July 18, 1975. 13490

1. Cultural Geography Sauer rebelled against the sterile environmental determinism of contemporary geography with its emphasis on humans as response mechanisms to physical factors. If nothing else, his experience in the Economic Land Survey in the Michigan Cutovers had shown him that humans radically transformed the earth, often for the worse, and in the process created cultural landscapes. In his search for a new, humane geography, cultural anthropology seemed to offer a means of dealing with the diversity of humankind and its cultural landscapes through time. On arriving in Berkeley he found natural soul-mates in the anthropologists Alfred L. Kroeber and Robert H. Lowie. The concept of ‘culture’ subsequently pervaded all his teaching and writing. In The Morphology of Landscape he distilled an almost wholly German geographical literature, established the primacy of human agency in the formation of cultural landscapes ‘fashioned out of the natural landscape by a cultural group,’ and the importance of a time-based approach. In addition, he placed great importance on observation and contemplation in the field—a Verstehen or empathetic understanding and intuitive insight into behavior or object in order to achieve ‘a quality of reasoning at a higher plane’ than the tangible facts (see Sauer 1925, Williams 1983). Sauer wrote ‘Morphology’ in order to ‘emancipate’ himself from determinist thinking and, with a few more papers on the cultural landscape of the midwest frontier, he put the epistemological game behind him and started substantive field work on early settlement and society in Lower California, Arizona and Mexico. During the 1930s he produced many works, including Aztatlan and The Road to Cibola both published in a new monograph series Ibero-Americana that he founded in the same year with Alfred Kroeber and the historian H. E. Bolton. (For these and many other of Sauer’s publications see Leighly 1963.) These investigations drew him into the controversy about New World plant domestication and plant origins, and into collaboration with botanists, archeologists and ethnologists, whom he found congenial intellectual company.

2. Widening Horizons All the time Sauer’s horizons were getting wider, his ideas more speculative, and his ethical values more refined. Toward the end of the 1930s he wrote a slight, but ultimately influential, paper which was a sustained and biting critique of the destructive social and environmental impact that resulted from the predatory outreach of Europe, which had few counterparts at that time except, perhaps, in the writing of Karl Marx (Sauer 1938). He drew inspiration from the work of George Perkins Marsh on the human transformation of the earth and Ernst Friedrich’s concept of Raub-

Sauer, Carl Ortwin (1889–1975) wirtschaft, or destructive exploitation (see Marsh [1865] 1965, Friedrich 1904). His experience and knowledge of Latin and Central America and their history suggested to him that the Spanish conquest had led to a devastating and permanent impoverishment of the land and of its cultures and societies. Disease, warfare and enslavement had disrupted traditional value systems. Thus, the diffusion of technologically superior societies could affect humans and their culture just as much as it could physical resources. But two works more than any others established his world reputation and heralded a remarkable decade of multifaceted yet interrelated speculative understanding of the place of humans on earth. First was Agricultural Origins and Dispersals (Sauer 1952a) that flowered later into a string of publications into the human uses of the organic world, and early humans in the Americas from the Ice Age onward. Unfortunately, radiocarbon dating came too late to inform Sauer’s writing, but although he may not have provided the answers, he defined the questions brilliantly. Second, in 1956, with the collaboration of Marston Bates and Lewis Mumford, he masterminded the Princetown symposium on ‘Man’s Role in Changing the Face of the Earth,’ the theme of which thereafter became his overriding interest. (See Mumford, Lewis (1895–1990).) All his learning and concerns culminated in this volume, and in his chapter ‘The Agency of Man on Earth’ (Sauer 1956). The capacity of humans to alter the natural environment—the ‘deformation of the pristine’—the cult of progress and waste that stemmed from mass production (‘commodity fetishism’), and the alien intrusion of humans into world ecology, were included. In contemporary terms, the theme was the degradation of the environment, and it was an early and influential statement. It also had another dimension: globally, the ‘imperialism of production’ was as bad as the old, colonial imperialism, and might ultimately be no better than Marxist totalitarianism; mass culture was eliminating not only biological diversity but also cultural diversity, and older and less robust societies. Somehow, humans had to rise above this mindless, shortterm exploitative mode. ‘The high moments of history have come not when man was concerned with the comforts and displays of the flesh but when his spirit was moved to grow in grace.’ Therefore, what was needed was ‘an ethic and aesthetic under which man, practising the qualities of prudence and moderation, may indeed pass on to posterity a good Earth’ (Sauer 1956, p. 68). His simply articulated ideas had a resonance with many activists and intellectuals, as well as Californian avant-garde poets and literati, who extolled his work as an example of cultural and ecological sensitivity and respect, tinged with deep historical insight and scholarship, and made attractive by his simple and pithy language. He also tapped a deep spring of feeling

during the 1960s and 1970s at the time of Vietnam and student unrest with their concerns at the limits of the earth and technological\political power. Yet Sauer was a complex mix. He was congenitally nonconformist but deeply conservative, and although profoundly concerned with conservation was never formally an ‘environmentalist,’ and indeed, he thought the movement was little more than an ‘ecological binge.’

3. Distrust of the Social Sciences In many ways it is ironical that Sauer has a place in this Encyclopedia because he had such a deep distrust and distaste for the behavioral and social sciences. Although he eschewed methodological and epistemological discussion, his writing, and particularly his personal correspondence, reveal that he was ‘a philosopher in spite of himself’ (Entrikin 1984). Culture history became his model of social science, and it was drawn from the natural sciences, not the social sciences. He was basically a pragmatist who was influenced by the writings of the German cultural geographers Friedrich Ratzel and Eduard Hahn, and by the methods of geology and anthropology and their emphasis on the provisional character of working hypotheses which were no more than a means to an end. His later association in Berkeley with people who worked on ‘tangible things,’ like plant ecologists, agricultural scientists, botanists (e.g., Ernest Babcock), experts in the evolution of population genetics (see Wright, Sewall (1889–1988)), and geneticists reinforced this. He argued for a theoretical and methodological pluralism that stemmed naturally from the inherent diversity of nature and culture. The natural science idea of a dynamic balance and diversity that arose from organic evolution was embedded deeply in his thought, and he felt that the modern world had disrupted these processes so that it was out of balance. Hence his deep distrust of US capitalism and all bureaucratic systems which would destroy diversity and local community. Liberal social scientists who designed, planned, and directed community life were more likely to destroy than enhance it by imposing universalizing concepts of social organization, and by ignoring the inherent pluralism and diversity of nature and culture that stimulated the naı$ ve curiosity about the world which was the essence of geography. Theoretical and normative social science as practiced by economists, sociologists, and political scientists, grated on him with its exaggerated confidence in the statistical and the inductive, and its ‘dialectic atmosphere.’ Their focus on the present precluded a better insight into the origins and evolution of any topic, and gave ‘an exaggerated accent on contemporaneity.’ His social science was based firmly in history and geography—this was culture history. 13491

Sauer, Carl Ortwin (1889–1975) During the late 1930s he talked jokingly of the two patron saints of social scientists—St. Bureaucraticus, who represented rationalism and professionalism in US academic life, and St. Scholasticus, who represented social theorists who sought normative generalizations about humankind and society. Consistently, these ‘Sons of Daedalus’ were the target of his criticism because their well-funded procedures and programs emasculated the independence of the impressionable younger scholars (Williams 1983). His address, ‘Folkways of the Social Sciences’ was an eloquent, if not audacious, plea to social scientists to ‘give back the search for truth and beauty to the individual scholar to grow in grace as best he can’ and to reinstate time and place into the study of the USA (Sauer 1952b). Sauer’s other beV te noire—mass production—promoted the homogenization of society, not only in the USA but globally, as the USA firmly assumed the position of superpower during the 1950s, with what he saw as a disdain for the ‘lesser breeds.’ Sauer was aware that he was ‘out of step’ with his colleagues and intellectuals, and spoke of himself as an ‘unofficial outsider’ and even as a ‘peasant.’ This has been typified as part of the antimodernism that characterized early twentieth century US intellectual life. But it went much deeper than that; his ideas anticipated society’s fears and disenchantment with progress, science, the elimination of diversity, and the degradation of the environment. Perhaps the ultimate relevance of Sauer’s work was in his groping towards a rapprochement between the social sciences, the humanities and the biological life sciences. By being behind he was far ahead. See also: Agricultural Sciences and Technology; Environmental Determinism; Geography; Place in Geography

Bibliography Entrikin J N 1984 Carl O. Sauer: Philosopher in spite of himself. Geographical Re
iew 74: 387–408 Friedrich E 1904 Wesen und geographische Verbreitung der ‘Raubwirtschaft.’ Petermanns Mitteilungen 50: 68–79, 92–5 Hooson D 1981 Carl Ortwin Sauer. In: Blouet B W (ed.) The Origins of Academic Geography in the United States. Archon, Hamden, CT, pp. 165–74 Leighly J (ed.) 1963 Land and Life: A Selection from the Writings of Carl Ortwin Sauer. University of California Press, Berkeley, CA Marsh G P 1965 Man and Nature: Physical Geography as Modified by Human Action, Lowenthal D (ed.). Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA Sauer C O 1925 The Morphology of Landscape. University of California Publications in Geography, Berkeley, CA, Vol. 2, pp. 19–53 Sauer C O 1938 Destructive exploitation in modern colonial expansion. Comptes Rendus du CongreZ s International de GeT ographie, Amsterdam 2 (Sect. 3c): 494–9

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Sauer C O 1952a Agricultural Origins and Dispersals. Bowman Memorial Lectures, Series 2. American Geographical Society, New York Sauer C O 1952b Folkways of social science. In: The Social Sciences at Mid-Century: Papers Deli
ered at the Dedication of Ford Hall, April 19–21, 1951. University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, MN Sauer C O 1956 The agency of man on earth. In: Thomas W L (ed.) Man’s Role in Changing the Face of the Earth. Chicago University Press, Chicago, IL, pp. 49–69 Williams M 1983 The apple of my eye: Carl Sauer and historical geography. Journal of Historical Geography 9: 1–28 Williams M 1987 Carl Sauer and man’s role in changing the face of the earth. Geographical Re
iew 77: 218–31

M. Williams

Saussure, Ferdinand de (1857–1913) 1. Saussure’s Status in Twentieth-century Linguistics Saussure is best known for the posthumous compilation of lecture notes on general linguistics taken down assiduously by students attending his courses during 1907–1911, the Cours de linguistique geT neT rale, edited by his former students and junior colleagues and first published in 1916 (and since 1928 translated into more than a dozen languages). During his lifetime, Saussure was most widely known for his masterly MeT moire of 1878 devoted to an audacious reconstruction of the Proto-Indo-European vowel system. However, it is generally agreed that his Cours ushered in a revolution in linguistic thinking during the 1920s and 1930s which still at the beginning of the twentyfirst century is felt in many quarters, even beyond linguistics proper. He is widely regarded as ‘the father of structuralism’; to many his work produced a veritable ‘Copernican revolution’ (Holdcroft 1991, p. 134). Indeed, essential ingredients and terms of his theory have become points of reference for any serious discussion about the nature of language, its functioning, development, and uses.

2. Formati
e Years and Career Saussure was born on November 26, 1857 in Geneva, Switzerland. Although from a distinguished Geneva family which—beginning with Horace Be! ne! dict de Saussure (1740–1799)—can boast of several generations of natural scientists, F. de Saussure was drawn early to language study, producing an ‘Essai pour reT duire les mots du grec, du latin et de l’allemand aZ un petit nombre de racines’ at age 14 or 15 (published in Cahiers Ferdinand de Saussure 32: 77–101 [1978]). Following his parents’ wishes, Saussure attended classes in chemistry, physics, and mathematics at the

Saussure, Ferdinand de (1857–1913) University of Geneva during 1875–1876, before being allowed to join his slightly older classmates who had left for Leipzig the year before. So in the fall of 1876 Saussure arrived at the university where a number of important works in the field of Indo-European phonology and morphology, including Karl Verner’s (1846–1896) epoch-making paper on the last remaining series of exceptions to ‘Grimm’s Law,’ had just been published. Saussure took courses with Georg Curtius (1820–1885), the mentor of the Junggrammatiker, and a number of the younger professors, such as August Leskien (1840–1916), Ernst Windisch (1844–1918), Heinrich Hu$ bschmann (1848–1908), Hermann Osthoff (1847–1909), and others in the field of Indic studies, Slavic, Baltic, Celtic, and Germanic. During 1878–1879 Saussure spent two semesters at the University of Berlin, enrolling in courses in Indic philology with Heinrich Zimmer (1851–1910) and Hermann Oldenberg (1854–1920). After barely six semesters of formal study of comparative-historical Indo-European linguistics Saussure, then just 21, published his major lifetime work. In this 300-page MeT moire sur le systeZ me primitif des
oyelles dans les langues indo-europeT ennes (1879) Saussure assumed, on purely theoretical grounds, the existence of an early Proto-Indo-European sound of unknown phonetic value (designated *A) which would develop into various phonemes of the Indo-European vocalic system depending on its combination with those ‘sonantal coefficients.’ Saussure was thus able to explain a number of puzzling questions of IndoEuropean ablaut. However, the real proof of Saussure’s hypotheses came only many years later, after his death, following the decipherment of Hittite and its identification as an Indo-European language. In 1927 the Polish scholar Jerzy Kuryowicz (1895– 1978) pointed to Hittite cognates, i.e., related words corresponding to forms found in other Indo-European languages, that contained a laryngeal (not present in any of the other attested Indo-European languages) corresponding to Saussure’s ‘phoneZ me’ *A (Szemere! nyi 1973). What is significant in Saussure’s approach is his insistance on, and rigorous use of, the idea that the original Proto-Indo-European vowels form a coherent system of interrelated terms. Indeed, it is this emphasis on the systematic character of language which informs all of Saussure’s linguistic thinking to the extent that there are not, contrary to received opinion, two Saussures, the author of the MeT moire and the originator of the theories laid down in the Cours (cf. Koerner 1998). Having returned to Leipzig, Saussure defended his dissertation on the use of the genitive absolute in Sanskrit in February 1880, leaving for Geneva soon thereafter. Before he arrived in Paris in September 1880, he appears to have conducted fieldwork on Lithuanian, an Indo-European language of which documents reach back to the sixteenth century only, but which exhibits a rather conservative vowel system

comparable with that of Ancient Greek. First-hand exposure to this language was instrumental in his explanation of the Lithuanian system of accentuation (Saussure 1896) for which he is justly famous. In 1881, Michel Bre! al (1832–1915), the doyen of French linguistics, secured him a position as MaıV tre de ConfeT rences at the En cole des Hautes En tudes, a post he held until his departure for Geneva 10 years later. In Paris, Saussure found a number of receptive students, among them Antoine Meillet (1866–1936), Maurice Grammont (1866–1946), and Paul Passy (1859–1940), but also congenial colleagues such as Gaston Paris (1839–1903), Louis Havet (1849–1925), who had previously written the most detailed review of his MeT moire, and Arse' ne Darmesteter (1848–1888). Still, Saussure did not write any major work subsequent to his doctoral dissertation, but he wrote a series of frequently etymological papers, which illustrate his acumen in historical linguistics. It was through the posthumous publication of lectures on (in fact historical and) general linguistics that Saussure became known for his theoretical and nonhistorical views. In 1891, the University of Geneva offered Saussure a professorship of Sanskrit and Comparative Grammar, which was made into a regular chair of Comparative Philology in 1896. It was only late in 1906 that the Faculty added the subject of General Linguistics to his teaching load. It was this decision and Saussure’s three ensuing lecture series (1907, 1908–9, and 1910– 11) in which he developed his thoughts about the nature of language and the manner in which it was to be studied that eventually led to the epoch-making book he did not write, the Cours de linguistique geT neT rale. Saussure died on February 22, 1913 at Cha# teau Vufflens, Switzerland.

3. The Cours De Linguistique GeT neT rale The Cours appeared in 1916. By the 1920s Saussure’s name began to be almost exclusively connected with this posthumous work which was based largely on extensive lecture notes carefully taken down by a number of his students. One of them was Albert Riedlinger (1883–1978), whose name appears on the title page of the Cours as a collaborator. It was, however, put together by Saussure’s successors in Geneva, Charles Bally (1865–1947) and Albert Sechehaye (1870–1946), neither of whom had attended these lectures themselves as is frequently, but erroneously, stated in the literature. Indeed, their own focus of attention was nonhistorical linguistics, stylistics and syntax, respectively, and this had a considerable bearing on the manner in which Saussure’s ideas were presented (Amacker 2000), with Historical Linguistics, the subject Saussure was most interested in, being relegated to the end of the book. (See Godel 1957, for an analysis of the editors’ work; also Strozier 1988, for a close analysis of the texts.) It 13493

Saussure, Ferdinand de (1857–1913) was the long general introduction of the Cours and the part dealing with nonhistorical (‘synchronic’) linguistics, which made history.

3.1 Saussure’s\the Cours’s Legacy The ideas advanced in the Cours produced something of a revolution in linguistic science; historicalcomparative grammar which had dominated linguistic research since the early nineteenth century soon became a mere province of the field. At least in the manner the Cours had been presented by the editors, Saussure’s general theory of language was seen as assigning pride of place to the nonhistorical, descriptive, and ‘structural’ approach. (Saussure himself did not use the last-mentioned term in a technical sense.) This emphasis on the investigation of the current state of a language or languages led to a tremendous body of work concerned with the analysis of the linguistic system or systems of language and its function(s), and a concomitant neglect of questions of language change and the field of Historical Linguistics in general, a situation still very much characteristic of the current linguistic scene. However, the field has become stronger since the mid-1980s, as sociolinguistic and typological aspects took hold in the investigation of language change. From the 1920s onwards, notably outside of the traditional centers of Indo-European comparative linguistics, a variety of important schools of linguistic thought developed in Europe that can be traced back to proposals made in the Cours. These are usually identified with the respective centers from which they emanated, such as Geneva, Prague, Copenhagen, even London; more precisely these developments are to be associated with the names of Bally and Sechehaye, Roman Jakobson (1896–1982) and Nikolaj S. Trubezkoy (1890–1938), Louis Hjelmslev (1899– 1965), and John Rupert Firth (1890–1960), respectively. In North America too, through the work of Leonard Bloomfield (1887–1949), Saussure’s ideas became stock-in-trade among linguists, descriptivists, structuralists, and generativists (cf. Joseph 1990, for Saussure’s influence on Bloomfield as well as Chomsky). In each ‘school,’ it is safe to say, essential ingredients of the Cours were interpreted differently, at times in opposition to some of Saussure’s tenets as found in the book, which Saussure specialists now refer to as the ‘vulgata’ text, given that a number of points made in the Cours go back to its editors, not Saussure himself. However, it is this text that has made the impact on modern linguistics.

3.2 The Main Tenets of the Cours At the core of Saussure’s linguistic theory is the assumption that language is a system of interrelated 13494

terms, which he called ‘langue’ (in contradistinction to ‘parole,’ the individual speech act or speaking in general). This supra-individual ‘langue’ is the underlying code ensuring that people can speak and understand each other; the language-system thus has a social underpinning. At the same time, ‘langue’ is an operative system embedded in the brain of everyone who has learned a given language. The analysis of this system and its functioning, Saussure maintains, is the central object of linguistics. His characterization of ‘langue’ as a ‘fait social’ has often led to the belief that Saussure’s thinking is indebted to E; mile Durkheim’s (1858–1917) sociological framework. While the two were close contemporaries and shared much of the same intellectual climate, no direct influence of the latter on the former can be demonstrated; Meillet, Saussure’s former student and a collaborator of Durkheim’s since the late 1890s, publicly denied it when it was first proposed in 1931. For Saussure the social bond between speakers sharing the same language (‘langue’) was constitutive for the operation of this unique semiological system (see below). The language system is a network of relationships which Saussure characterized as being of two kinds: ‘syntagmatic’ (i.e., items are arranged in a consecutive, linear order) and ‘associative,’ later on termed (by Firth and by Hjelmslev) ‘paradigmatic’ (i.e., pertaining to the organization of units in a deeper, not directly observable fashion dealing with grammatical and semantic relations). Since it is only in a state (‘eT tat de langue’) that this system can be revealed, the nonhistorical, ‘synchronic’ approach to language must take pride of place. Only after two such language states of different periods in the development of a given language have been properly described can the effects of language change be calculated, i.e., ‘diachronic,’ historical linguistics be conducted. Hence the methodological, if not epistemological primacy of synchrony over diachrony. Apart from syntagmatic vs. paradigmatic relations, several trichotomies can be found in the Cours which, however are usually reduced to dichotomies. Many of them have become current in twentieth-century thought, far beyond their original application, i.e., language–langue–parole (i.e., language in all its manifestations or ‘speech’; language as the underlying system, and ‘speaking,’ with terms such as ‘tongue’ and ‘discourse’ or ‘competence’ and ‘performance’ being proposed to replace the langue\parole couple), signe–signifieT –signifiant (sign, signified, and signifier), synchrony vs. diachrony (Saussure’s ‘panchrony’ would be an overarching of these two perspectives). Saussure’s definition of language as ‘a system of (arbitrary) signs’ and his proposal of linguistics as the central part of an overall science of sign relations or ‘se! miologie’ have led to the development of a field of inquiry more frequently called (following Charles Sanders Peirce’s [1839–1914] terminology) ‘semiotics,’ which more often than not deals with sign systems

Sa
age, Leonard J (1917–71) other than those pertaining to language, such as literary texts, visual art, music, and architecture. (For the wider implications of Saussure’s socio-semiotic ideas and a critique of the various uses of Saussure’s concepts in literary theory, see Thibault 1997.) As is common with influential works (cf., e.g., Freud’s) many ingredients of Saussure’s general theory of language have often been taken out of their original context and incorporated into theories outside their intended application, usually selectively and quite arbitrarily, especially in works by French writers engaged in ‘structural’ anthropology (e.g., Claude Le! vi-Strauss) and Marxist philosophy (e.g., Louis Althusser), literary theory (e.g., Jacques Derrida), psychoanalysis (e.g., Jacques Lacan), and semiotics (e.g., Roland Barthes), and their various associates and followers. (For a judicious critique of these extralinguistic exploitations, see Tallis 1988.) However, these uses—and abuses—demonstrate the endurance and originality of Saussure’s ideas. He has achieved in linguistics a status comparable to Imanuel Kant in philosophy, in that we can, similar to Kant’s place in the history of thought, distinguish between a linguistics before Saussure and a linguistics after Saussure.

Bibliography Amacker R 2000 Le de! veloppment des ide! es saussurennes chez Charles Bally et Albert Sechehay. Historigraphia Linguistica 27: 205–64 Bouquet S 1997 Introduction aZ la lecture de Saussure. Payot, Paris Engler R 1976 Bibliographie saussurienne [1970–]. Cahiers Ferdinand de Saussure 30: 99–138, 31: 279–306, 33: 79–145, 40: 131–200, 43: 149–275, 50: 247–95 (1976, 1977, 1979, 1986, 1989, 1997). Godel R 1957 Les Sources manuscrites du Cours de linguistique geT neT rale de F. de Saussure. Droz, Geneva, Switzerland Harris R 1987 Reading Saussure: A Critical Commentary on the Cours de linguistique geT neT rale. Duckworth, London Holdcroft D 1991 Saussure: Signs, System, and Arbitrariness. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Joseph J E 1990 Ideologizing Saussure: Bloomfield’s and Chomsky’s readings of the Cours de linguistique ge! ne! rale. In: Joseph J E, Taylor T E (eds.) Ideologies of Language. Routledge, London and New York, pp. 51–93 Koerner E F K 1972 Bibliographia Saussureana, 1870–1970: An Annotated, Classified Bibliography on the Background, De
elopment and Actual Rele
ance of Ferdinand De Saussure’s General Theory of Language. Scarecrow Press, Metuchen, NJ Koerner E F K 1973 Ferdinand de Saussure: Origin and De
elopment of his Linguistic Thought in Western Studies of Language. A Contribution to the History and Theory of Linguistics. F. Vieweg and Sohn, Braunschweig, Germany Koerner E F K 1988 Saussurean Studies\En tudes saussuriennes. A
ant-propos de R. Engler. Slatkine, Geneva, Switzerland Koerner E F K 1998 Noch einmal on the History of the Concept of Language as a ‘syste' me ou' tout se tient’. Cahiers Ferdinand de Saussure 51: 21–40

Saussure F de 1879 Me! moire sur le syste' me primitif des voyelles dans les langues indo-europe! ennes. B. G. Teubner, Leipzig, Germany (Repr. G. Olms, Hildesheim, 1968.). In: Lehmann W P (ed.) A Reader in Nineteenth-Century Historical IndoEuropean Linguistics. Indiana University Press, Bloomington and London, 1967, pp. 218–24 Saussure F de 1896 Accentuation lituanienne. Indogermanische Forschungen. Anzeiger 6: 157–66 Saussure F de 1916 Cours de linguistique ge! ne! rale ed. by Charles Bally and Albert Sechehaye, with the collaboration of Albert Riedlinger. Payot, Lausanne and Paris. (2nd ed., Paris: Payot, 1922; 3rd and last corrected ed., 1931; 4th ed., 1949; 5th ed., 1960, etc.—English transl.: (1) By Wade Baskin, Course in General Linguistics, Philosophical Library, London and New York, 1959 (repr., New York: McGraw-Hill, 1966; rev. ed., Collins\Fontana, London, 1974), and (2) by Roy Harris, Course in General Linguistics, Duckworth, London, 1983. Saussure F de 1922 Recueil des publications scientifiques ed. by Charles Bally and Le! opold Gautier. Payot, Lausanne; C. Winter, Heidelberg. (Repr. Slatkine, Geneva, 1970; it includes a reprint of the MeT moire, his 1880 dissertation (pp. 269–338), and all of Saussure’s papers published during his lifetime.) Saussure F de 1957 Cours de linguistique ge! ne! rale (1908–1909): Introduction. Cahiers Ferdinand de Saussure 15: 6–103 Saussure F de 1967–1968, 1974 Cours de linguistique geT neT rale. En dition critique par Rudolf Engler, 4 fasc. Otto Harrassowitz, Wiesbaden, Germany Saussure F de 1972 Cours de linguistique geT neT rale. Payot, Paris Saussure F de 1978 (1872) Essai pour re! duire les mots du grec, du latin et de l’allemand a' un petit nombre de racines. Cahiers Ferdinand de Saussure 32: 77–101 Strozier R M 1988 Saussure, Derrida, and the Metaphysics of Subjecti
ity. Mouton de Gruyter, Berlin and New York Szemere! nyi O 1973 La the! orie des laryngales de Saussure a' Kuryowicz et a' Benveniste: Essai de re! e! valuation. Bulletin de la SocieT teT de Linguistique de Paris 68: 1–25 Tallis R 1988 Not Saussure. Macmillan, London Thibault P J 1997 Re-Reading Saussure: The Dynamics of Signs in Social Life. Routledge, London

E. F. K. Koerner

Savage, Leonard J (1917–71) L. J. Savage, always addressed by friends as Jimmie, was born in Detroit, Michigan on 20 November 1917. His father was in the real-estate business, his mother a nurse. Throughout his life he suffered from poor eyesight, a combination of nystagmus and extreme myopia, which was to affect the development of his career in many ways. Most of us accept reading as an easy, even casual, activity, whereas to him it was a serious business with the text held close to the eye. The result was that he appeared to regard the material as important and would absorb it with an intensity that often escapes those with normal vision. To have him read something you had written was, at first, an uncomfortable business, for he would politely question much of the material, but later to realize that he was being constructive and the final result benefited 13495

Sa
age, Leonard J (1917–71) enormously from his study of it. He was a superb lecturer, once remarking that he could hold himself spell-bound for an hour. When, towards the end of his life, he gave the Fisher lecture, he held the audience spell-bound for considerably more than the allotted hour. The poor eyesight at first affected him adversely, his high-school teacher not recommending him for further education. His parents were insistent and he went initially to Wayne University and then to the University of Michigan. His attempts to do biology failed because he could not draw, and chemistry was ruled out when he dropped the beaker in the laboratory. Eventually he met a fine mathematics teacher who introduced him to a field in which the reading had to be intense, yet minimal, where his brilliance was recognized and he gained a Ph.D in the application of vectorial methods to metric geometry. After a year each at Princeton, Cornell, and Brown, 1944 found him a member of the Statistical Research Group at Columbia University, a group he described as ‘one of the greatest hotbeds statistics has ever had,’ a judgement that is surely sound, as almost all those who were to become the leading statisticians in the US of the 1950s were in the group or associated with it. So he became a statistician, and although his greatest work was in the theory, as such he was able to indulge his interest in science, so that throughout his career he enjoyed, and was extremely good at, consulting with his scientific colleagues. It was not just science that interested him, for he had inherited from his father a respect for business, and had acquired from Milton Friedman, a member of the group, an appreciation of economics, that made his advice useful and generously available to all serious thinkers. In 1946, Savage went to the University of Chicago where, from 1949, he was in the Statistics department founded by Allen Wallis, becoming chairman from 1957 until he left the university in 1960. His departure was a turning point in his life. A reason for leaving was personal difficulties in his marriage to Jane Kretschmer that they hoped could be mended by a move to Michigan with their two sons, Sam and Frank. It did not work out and they were divorced in 1964. That year he married Jean Pearce and moved to Yale. It was in New Haven on 1 November 1971 that he tragically died at the early age of 53, and statistics lost a great scholar and many of us a dear friend. The move from Chicago was partly influenced by his perception of his relations with colleagues there. He felt, as we will see below, that he had produced a sound axiomatization of statistics showing that many standard statistical procedures were unsatisfactory, so that his colleagues should either explain where the axioms were wrong, or else abandon the faulty procedures. They did neither. They were not alone in this; most statisticians acted as the Chicago faculty, refusing to contest the axioms, yet refusing to use the results (many still do so today) and 13496

Savage found it difficult to get a suitable post until Yale obliged. The monograph by Savage with others (1962), although now rather dated, indicates the sort of antagonism that existed, though, in that book, all the protagonists are on their best behavior. Savage (1981) contains most of his more important papers, tributes from others and a technical summary of his work. Many of his papers, contained therein, deal, not with technicalities, but with his growing appreciation of statistical ideas as they developed throughout his life. Savage is justifiably famous for one tremendous contribution to statistics and the scientific method, contained in his 1954 book The Foundations of Statistics. Or, to be more correct, the first seven chapters of that book. Anyone contemplating study of this glorious achievement should first read his preface to the second edition in 1972, for this is one of the most honest pieces of scientific writing that I know. To appreciate the importance of the book, it is necessary to cast one’s mind back to the state of statistics around 1950. Fisher made enormous advances from 1920 onwards. Neyman and Pearson had introduced new ideas and Wald was developing decision analysis. But the statistical procedures available, though undoubtedly valuable and much appreciated by scientists, especially biologists, were a disparate collection of ideas lacking coherence. Savage had the idea that statistics should be like other branches of mathematics and be based on a set of concepts, termed axioms, from which the procedures would follow as theorems. He wanted to provide a firm basis for Fisher’s results. Another way of understanding is to recognize that Fisher had suggested procedures whose properties had been studied by him and others, whereas Savage turned the method around and asked what properties we wanted and discovered what procedures provided them. His expectation was that they would prove to be just what statisticians were using. To his great surprise, they were not. Interestingly, his last paper, Savage et al. (1976), is a brilliant, sympathetic review of Fisher’s work. Savage had worked with von Neumann in Princeton and had much appreciated his work on games with Morgenstern (1944), that introduced axioms leading to the concept of a utility function for the outcomes of a game. However, their treatment had used probability without justification, so Savage conceived the idea of developing an axiomatic system for decision-making under uncertainty which would not use probability in the axioms but derive it in theorems, so uniting the ideas of probability and utility. Also influential was the development by Wald (1950) of an attempt to unite statistical ideas under the concept of decision-making, using von Neumann’s idea of minimax, but lacking any axiomatic foundation. Savage’s 1954 book presents axioms for a single decision-maker, now often referred to as ‘you,’ faced with selecting a course of action in the face of uncertainty. He then proves three

Sa
age, Leonard J (1917–71) theorems: first, that your various uncertainties present must combine according to the rules of probability; second, that your perceptions of the merits of the possible outcomes that result from your actions must be described by a real-valued utility function (which is itself based on probability); third, that your optimum decision is that which maximizes your expected utility (MEU), the expectation being evaluated according to the probabilities developed in the first part of this trilogy. One of the axioms he used encapsulated a simple notion that has since been seen to be of some importance. If you prefer A to B when C is true and, at the same time, prefer A to B when C is false; then you prefer A to B when you do not know whether or not C is true. It is called the ‘sure-thing’ principle because the preference of A over B is sure, in American parlance, at least as far as C is concerned. The introduction of MEU was not new, it having been used by Daniel Bernoulli in the eighteenth century, but the development extended its use considerably, in particular by showing that it was the only sensible method for a single decision-maker to use. Utility had recently been explained, as we have seen, by von Neumann. The original and dramatically important result was the first, saying that probability was the only sensible description for uncertainty, so that the rules of probability were not arbitrary but dictated by the sensible and modest requirements expressed in the axioms. Others, from Laplace onwards, had used probability without justification: Savage showed that it was inevitable. So it was the extensive and unique use of probability that was Savage’s main contribution in the book, and there are two ways in which his analysis was influential. First was the fact that the probability was personal, expressing the uncertainty of the decision-maker, ‘you.’ It was not the probability, but rather your probability. An immediate reaction is that this contradicts the very nature of the scientific method which is supposed to yield objective results. This apparent contradiction was resolved in a later paper with Edwards and Lindeman (Savage et al. 1963), which showed in the principle of stable estimation, that under general conditions, people with different uncertainties would reach agreement on receipt of enough data. This result agrees with the observation that scientists typically disagree with one another in the early stages of an investigation but are eventually brought together as the evidence accumulates. Many now think that the reduction of uncertainty, through data, incorporated in the laws of probability, expresses the nature of induction and is part of the scientific method. A second, influential factor was the result that probability was the only sensible description of uncertainty, for scientists, encouraged by statisticians, had been using other methods, for example in the use of tail-area significance tests of a null hypothesis, H, where the relevant quantity is the probability in the tail

of a distribution, given that H is true. Savage’s argument was that the proper evaluation is the probability of H, given the data, not of an aspect of the data, given H. Similar contradictions arise with confidence intervals for a parameter which involve probability statements about the interval, not about the parameter. These are instances where his conclusions clashed with standard practice, leading to disagreements like that at Chicago mentioned above. There was a third way in which Savage’s ideas contradicted the current practice, though this was not fully realized until Birnbaum’s (1962) paper. The axiomatic development showed that if you had a statistical model with probability p(x\θ) for data x given parameter θ, then the only way the data could affect your uncertainty of θ, given x, was through the likelihood function p(x\θ) expressing how that probability varied with θ for the fixed, observed x. This is the likelihood principle. Significance tests clearly violate the principle since they use a tail-area which involves integration of p(x\θ) over x-values, that is, over data that you do not have. Indeed, many statistical procedures, even today, violate the principle. A related example of conflict with current practice is found in optional stopping. It had long been known that, under commonly occurring circumstances, it is possible to continue sampling until a null hypothesis is rejected at any preassigned significance level, so that you can opt to stop at your convenience. Savage showed that it was the significance test that was at fault, not the stopping procedure. It is an astonishing fact, that he explains in the preface to the second edition, that he and others who worked with him, including myself, in the mid-1950s, did not appreciate these ideas and did not comprehend that, rather than his work justifying statistical practice, it altered it. The latter part of his book in which the justification is attempted, largely using the tool of minimax that von Neumann had employed with great effect in the theory of games, is today of little interest, in contrast to the brilliance of the early chapters. Savage was a true scholar, a man who studied the work of others and accepted any valid criticism of his work, to incorporate their ideas with due acknowledgment. And so he understood the ideas of Ramsey (1926) who had, in a less rigorous presentation, developed similar ideas, ideas which no one had understood until Savage. But more importantly, he appreciated the work of the Italian, de Finetti, who, from an entirely different standpoint, and one which is perhaps more forceful than Savage’s, developed the concept and uniqueness of personal probability. (For English readers, the best references are de Finetti (1972, 1974, 1975), though his ideas originate in the 1930s.) Savage acquired skill in Italian and worked with him. One of the problems de Finetti had studied was your assessment of probability. You are uncertain whether it will rain tomorrow in your city; so according to their thesis, you have a probability for rain. 13497

Sa
age, Leonard J (1917–71) How are you to assess its value? De Finetti suggested a scoring rule: if you choose p as your value, you will receive a penalty score (1kp)# if it rains and p# if not. Scores for different events will be added. To minimize your total score the values that you give must be probabilities. The basic paper was written by Savage (1972) with due acknowledgment to the originator. With Hewitt (1955), Savage also extended significantly another result of de Finetti on exchangeability. Savage conducted a major study with Dubins that resulted in their book (Savage and Dubins 1965). The problem here is that you are in an unfavorable gaming situation at a casino and your object is to maximize your chance of winning a fixed sum of money; how should you play? They showed that boldness pays; bet all you have or the maximum amount the casino will allow. This led to a thorough study of betting strategies and many interesting and useful results were obtained. For reasons that are not entirely clear, the school of statistics that rests on Savage’s results is called Bayesian, after the eighteenth century cleric, Thomas Bayes partly because much use is made of Bayes’s theorem. Today it is a flourishing school of statistics with a large and increasing number of adherents, that co-exists alongside the earlier school, often called frequentist because probability therein refers to frequency, whereas to a Bayesian it expresses your uncertainty of an event. Bayesians believe that their approach to the handling of data, and the making of decisions that use the data, is important for social and behavioral sciences for the following reasons. If these subjects are to be truly scientific, their arguments must depend heavily on data which, properly interpreted, can be used to defend theories in the interplay of theory and practice that is the scientific method. In the physical sciences, the data ordinarily take the form of results of planned experiments in the field or laboratory, experiments which can, and should be, repeated by others, in accord with stable estimation, their repetition connecting naturally with frequency. In the social sciences, such planning and repetition is rarely possible, so that reliance has to be placed on observational data, and the behavioral sciences are scarcely better off. It is now widely appreciated that observational data have to be analyzed with considerable care, so that any conclusions are soundly based and not confounded with other factors that the lack of planning has been unable to control. Statistics therefore becomes a more important ingredient in the social, than the physical, sciences. Furthermore, social decisions must often be made in the face of uncertainty, whereas more time and effort by an experimental scientist can substantially reduce, if not eliminate, the uncertainty. The Bayesian approach recognizes and incorporates all of these factors. There is another sense in which the Bayesian approach may be valuable and that lies in its ability to express uncertainty about any aspect of a study, not confining probability to the repetitious, frequency 13498

aspects. Often the conclusions in the social and behavioral sciences are tentative and the personalistic perception of probability, as a measure of your belief in a hypothesis, can provide an expression of uncertainty that can be conveyed to others. We still have a long way to go in employing these ideas, when even a weather-forecaster is reluctant to say there is a probability of 0.8 that it will rain tomorrow, or, if he does, sometimes does not appreciate the meaning of what is being said. Savage had been described as ‘the Euclid of statistics’ in that he did for statistics what Euclid did for geometry, laying down a set of axioms from which, as theorems, the only sensible statistical procedures emerge. As with Euclid, other geometries will emerge, so other statistical systems may arise, but, for the moment, Savage’s Bayesian approach is the only systematic one available and appears to work. He was, in the sense of Kuhn, a true revolutionary, who overturned one paradigm, replacing it by another without, at first, realizing what he had done. See also: Bayesian Statistics; Bayesian Theory: History of Applications; Decision Theory: Bayesian; Fisher, Ronald A (1890–1962); Hotelling, Harold (1895– 1973); Probability: Interpretations; Risk: Theories of Decision and Choice; Statistical Methods, History of: Pre-1900; Statistics, History of; Tversky, Amos (1937–96)

Bibliography Birnbaum A 1962 On the foundations of statistical inference. Journal of the American Statistical Association 57: 269–306 de Finetti B 1972 Probability, Induction and Statistics: The Art of Guessing. Wiley, London de Finetti B 1974\5 Theory of Probability, 2 Vols. Wiley, London Dubins L E, Savage L J 1965 How to Gamble if You Must: Inequalities for Stochastic Processes. McGraw-Hill, New York Ramsey F P 1926 Truth and probability. In: Braithwaite R B (ed.) The Foundations of Mathematics and Other Logical Essays. Routledge and Kegan Paul, London Savage L J 1954 The Foundations of Statistics. Wiley, New York Savage L J 1971 Elicitation of personal probabilities and expectations. Journal of the American Statistical Association 66: 783–801 Savage L J 1972 The Foundations of Statistics, 2nd edn. Dover, New York Savage L J et al. 1976 On re-reading R A Fisher. Annals of Statistics 4: 441–500 Savage L J 1981 The Writings of Leonard Jimmie Sa
age—A Memorial Selection. American Statistical Association and Institute of Mathematics, Washington Savage L J, Edwards W, Lindman H 1963 Bayesian statistical inference for psychological research. Psychological Re
iews 70: 193–242 Savage L J, Hewitt E 1955 Symmetric measures on Cartesian products. Transactions of the American Mathematical Society 80: 470–501

Sa
ings Beha
ior: Demographic Influences Savage L J et al. 1962 The Foundations of Statistical Inference: A Discussion. Methuen, London von Neumann J, Morgenstern O 1944 Theory of Games and Economic Beha
ior. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Wald A 1950 Statistical Decision Functions. Wiley, New York

D. V. Lindley

Savings Behavior: Demographic Influences In any period all economic output is either consumed or saved. By consuming, individuals satisfy their current material needs. By saving, individuals accumulate wealth that serves a multitude of purposes. When invested or loaned, wealth yields a stream of income to the holder. It is a means of providing for future material needs, for example, during retirement. Wealth provides partial protection against many of life’s uncertainties, including the loss of a job or unexpected medical needs. Wealth can be passed on to future generations out of feelings of altruism, or used as a carrot to encourage desired behavior among those who hope for a bequest. Wealth provides status to the holder. Because of the varied purposes served by saving, many behavioral models have been proposed and a variety of influencing factors have been identified. Demographic factors, including age structure, fertility, and mortality, have been found to influence saving in many studies. Additional factors that have been identified include the level of per capita income, economic growth rates, interest rates, characteristics of the financial system, fiscal policy, uncertainty, and public pension programs.

1. Sa
ing Trends and their Importance In the 1960s, low saving rates in the developing world were a serious impediment to economic development. The industrialized countries had much higher rates of saving, but international capital flows from the industrialized to the developing world were insufficient to finance needed investment in infrastructure and industrial enterprise. Since that time, the developing countries have followed divergent paths. Saving rates in sub-Saharan Africa have remained low. After increasing somewhat in the 1970s, saving rates in Latin America declined during the late 1970s and early 1980s. In contrast, South Asian and especially East Asian saving rates have increased substantially and currently are well above saving rates found in the industrialized countries. The emergence of high saving rates is widely believed to bear major responsibility for Asia’s rapid economic growth up until the mid-1990s.

The industrialized countries face their own saving issue. Since the mid-1970s, they have experienced a gradual, but steady, decline in saving rates. US saving rates have reached especially low levels. Current US household saving rates are near zero. The low rates of saving raise two concerns: first, that economic growth will be unsustainable and, second, that current generations of workers will face substantially reduced standards of living when they retire.

2. General Sa
ing Concepts The national saving rate is the outcome of decisions by three sets of actors—governments, firms, and households—but analyses of saving rates are overwhelmingly based on household behavioral models. The reliance on household models is justified on two grounds. First, decisions by households may fully incorporate the decisions made by firms and governments. Firms are owned by households. When firms accumulate wealth, the wealth of households increases as well. Thus, from the perspective of the household, saving by firms and saving by households are close substitutes. Consequently, household behavior determines the private saving rate, the combined saving of firms and households. Government saving also affects the wealth of the household sector by affecting current and future taxes. By issuing debt governments can, in principle, increase consumption and reduce national saving at the expense of future generations. However, households may choose to compensate future generations (their children) by increasing their saving and planned bequests. If they do so, national saving is determined entirely by the household sector and is independent of government saving (Barro 1974). Second, firms and governments may act as agents for households. Their saving on behalf of households may be influenced by the same factors that influence household behavior. The clearest example of this type of behavior is when firms or governments accumulate pension funds on behalf of their workers or citizens. Households are motivated to save for a number of reasons, but current research emphasizes three motives: insurance, bequests, and lifecycle motives. Households may accumulate wealth to insure themselves against uncertain events, e.g., the loss of a crop or a job, the death of a spouse, or an unanticipated medical expense. Households may save in order to accumulate an estate intended for their descendents. Household saving may be motivated by lifecycle concerns, the divergence between the household’s earnings profile and its preferred consumption profile. The importance of these and other motives in determining national saving rates is a matter of vigorous debate among economists. Proponents of the bequest motive have estimated that as much as 80 percent of US national saving is accounted for by the bequest motive (Kotlikoff 1988). Proponents of the 13499

Sa
ings Beha
ior: Demographic Influences lifecycle motive have estimated that an equally large portion of US national saving is accounted for by the lifecycle motive (Modigliani 1988). Clearly, the way in which changing demographic conditions impinge on national saving rates will depend on the importance of these different motives.

3. The Lifecycle Model Both the larger debate on the determinants of saving and explorations of the impact on saving of demographic factors have been framed by the lifecycle model (Modigliani and Brumberg 1954). The key idea that motivates the model is the observation that for extended portions of our lives we are incapable of providing for our own material needs. Thus, economic resources must be reallocated from economically productive individuals concentrated at the working ages to dependents concentrated at young or old ages. Several mechanisms exist for achieving this reallocation. In traditional societies, the family plays a dominant role. Typically, the young, the old, and those of working age live in extended families supported by productive family members. In modern societies, solving the lifecycle problem is a shared responsibility. Although the young continue to rely primarily on the family, the elderly rely on the family, on transfers from workers effected by the government, and on personnel wealth they have accumulated during their working years (Lee 2000). The lifecycle saving model is most clearly relevant to higher income settings where capital markets have developed, family support systems have eroded, and workers anticipate extended periods of retirement. Under these conditions, the lifecycle model implies that households consisting of young, working age adults will save, while household consisting of old, retired adults will dis-save. The national saving rate is determined, in part, by the relative size of these demographic groups. A young age structure yields high saving rates; an old age structure yields low saving rates. Likewise, a rise in the rate of population growth leads to higher saving rates because of the shift to a younger age structure. In the standard formulation of the lifecycle model, changes in the growth rate of per capita income operate in exactly the same way as changes in the population growth rate. Given higher long-run rates of economic growth, young adults have greater lifetime earnings than older adults. They have a correspondingly greater impact on the aggregate saving rate because of their control of a larger share of economic resources. Consequently, an increase in either the population growth rate or the per capita income growth rate leads to higher saving. The rate of growth effect is one of the most important and widely tested implications of the lifecycle saving model. With a great deal of consistency, 13500

empirical studies have found that an increase in the rate of per capita income growth leads to an increase in the national saving rate. Empirical research does not, however, support the existence of a positive population rate of growth effect (Deaton 1989). The standard lifecycle model provides no basis for reconciling the divergent rate of growth effects. The impact of child dependency on household saving provides one possible explanation of why population growth and economic growth need not have the same effect on aggregate saving. Coale and Hoover (1958) were the first to point out the potentially important impact of child dependency. They hypothesized that ‘A family with the same total income but with a larger number of children would surely tend to consume more and save less, other things being equal’ (p. 25). This raised the possibility that saving follows an inverted-U shaped curve over the demographic transition. In low-income countries, with rapid population growth rates and young age structure, slower population growth would lead to higher saving. But in higher income countries that were further along in their demographic transitions, slower population growth would lead to a population concentrated at older, low saving ages as hypothesized in the lifecycle model. These contrasting demographic effects have been modeled in the empirical literature using the youth and old-age dependency ratios. The variable lifecycle model incorporates the role of child dependency by allowing demographic factors to influence both the age structure of the population and the age profiles of consumption, earning, and, hence, saving. In this version of the lifecycle model the size of the rate of growth effect varies depending among other things on the number or cost of children. As with the dependency ratio model, saving follows an inverted-U shaped path over the demographic transition. However, the impact of demographic factors varies with the rate of economic growth. The model implies that in countries with rapid economic growth, e.g., East Asia, demographic factors will have a large impact on saving, but in countries with slow economic growth, e.g., Africa, demographic factors would have a more modest effect (Mason 1987). Empirical studies of population and saving come in two forms. Most frequently, researchers have based their analyses on aggregate time series data now available for many countries. Recent estimates support the existence of large demographic effects on saving. Analysis by Kelley and Schmidt (1996) supports the variable lifecycle model. Higgins and Williamson (1997) find that demographic factors influence saving independently of the rate of economic growth. An alternative approach relies on microeconomic data to construct an age-saving profile. The impact of age structure is then assessed assuming that the age profile does not change. In the few applications undertaken, changes in age structure had an impact on saving that is more modest than found in analyses of

Scale in Geography aggregate saving data. (See Deaton and Paxson (1997) for an example.) Until these approaches are reconciled, a firm consensus about the magnitude of demographic effects is unlikely to emerge.

4. Unresol
ed Issues There are a number of important issues that have not been resolved and require additional work. First, the saving literature does not yet adequately incorporate the impact of changing institutional arrangements. Studies of saving in the industrialized countries and recent work on developing countries considers the impact of state-sponsored pension programs on saving, but the impact of family support systems has received far too little emphasis. The erosion of the extended family in developing countries is surely one of the factors that has contributed to the rise of saving rates observed in many developing countries. Second, the role of mortality has received inadequate attention. The importance of lifecycle saving depends on the expected duration of retirement. In high mortality societies, few reach old age and many who do continue to work. Only late in the mortality transition, when there are substantial gains in the years lived late in life, does an important pension motive emerge. Third, the saving models currently in use are static models and do not capture important dynamics. Recent simulation work that combines realistic demographics with lifecycle saving behavior shows that during the demographic transition countries may experience saving rates that substantially exceed equilibrium values for sustained periods of time (Lee 2000).

Bibliography Barro R J 1974 Are government bonds net wealth? Journal of Political Economy 6 (December): 1095–117 Coale C A, Hoover E M 1958 Population Growth and Economic De
elopment in Low-income Countries: A Case Study of India’s Prospects. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Deaton A1989 Saving in developing countries: Theory and review. Proceedings of the World Bank Annual Conference on De
elopment Economics, Supplement to the World Bank Economic Review and the World Bank Research Observer, pp. 61–96 Deaton A, Paxson C 1997 The effects of economic and population growth on national saving and inequality. Demography 34(1): 97–114 Higgins M, Williamson J G 1997 Age structure dynamics in Asia and dependence on foreign capital. Population and De
elopment Re
iew 23(2): 261–94 Kelley A C, Schmidt R M 1996 Saving, dependency and development. Journal of Population Economics 9(4): 365–86

Kotlikoff L J 1988 Intergenerational transfers and savings. Journal of Economic Perspecti
es 2(2): 41–58 Lee R D 2000 Intergenerational transfers and the economic life cycle: A cross-cultural perspective. In: Mason A, Tapinos G (eds.) Sharing the Wealth: Demographic Change and Economic Transfers Between Generations. Oxford University Press, Oxford, UK Lee R D, Mason A, Miller T 2000 Life cycle saving and the demographic transition: The case of Taiwan. In: Chu C Y, Lee R D (eds.) Population and Economic Change in East Asia, Population and De
elopment Re
iew. 26: 194–219 Mason A 1987 National saving rates and population growth: A new model and new evidence. In: Johnson D G, Lee R D (eds.) Population Growth and Economic De
elopment: Issues and E
idence. University of Wisconsin Press, Madison, WI, pp. 5230–60 Modigliani F 1988 The role of intergenerational transfers and life cycle saving in the accumulation of wealth. Journal of Economic Perspecti
es 2(2): 15–40 Modigliani F, Brumberg R 1954 Utility analysis and the consumption function: An interpretation of cross-section data. In: Kurihara K (ed.) Post-Keynesian Economics. Rutgers University Press, New Brunswick, NJ

A. Mason

Scale in Geography Scale is about size, either relative or absolute, and involves a fundamental set of issues in geography. Scale primarily concerns space in geography, and this article will focus on spatial scale. However, the domains of temporal and thematic scale are also important to geographers. Temporal scale deals with the size of time units, thematic scale with the grouping of entities or attributes such as people or weather variables. Whether spatial, temporal, or thematic, scale in fact has several meanings in geography.

1. Three Meanings of Scale The concept of scale can be confusing, insofar as it has multiple referents. Cartographic scale refers to the depicted size of a feature on a map relative to its actual size in the world. Analysis scale refers to the size of the unit at which some problem is analyzed, such as at the county or state level. Phenomenon scale refers to the size at which human or physical earth structures or processes exist, regardless of how they are studied or represented. Although the three referents of scale frequently are treated independently, they are in fact interrelated in important ways that are relevant to all geographers, and the focus of research for some. For example, choices concerning the scale at which a map 13501

Scale in Geography should be made depend in part on the scale at which measurements of earth features are made and the scale at which a phenomenon of interest actually exists.

1.1 Cartographic Scale Maps are smaller than the part of the earth’s surface they depict. Cartographic scale expresses this relationship, traditionally in one of three ways. A verbal scale statement expresses the amount of distance on the map that represents a particular distance on the earth’s surface in words, e.g., ‘one inch equals a mile.’ The representative fraction (RF) expresses scale as a numerical ratio of map distance to earth distance, e.g., ‘1:63,360.’ The RF has the advantage of being a unitless measure. Finally, a graphic scale bar uses a line of particular length drawn on the map and annotated to show how much earth distance it represents. A graphic scale bar has the advantage that it changes size appropriately when the map is enlarged or reduced. Alternatively, all three expressions of scale may refer to areal measurements rather than linear measurements, e.g., a 1-inch square may represent 1 square mile on the earth. Given a map of fixed size, as the size of the represented earth surface gets larger, the RF gets smaller (i.e., the denominator of the RF becomes a larger number). Hence, a ‘large-scale map’ shows a relatively small area of the earth, such as a county or city, and a ‘small-scale map’ shows a relatively large area, such as a continent or a hemisphere of the earth. This cartographic scale terminology is frequently felt to be counterintuitive when applied to analysis or phenomenon scale, where small-scale and large-scale usually refer to small and large entities, respectively. An important complexity about cartographic scale is that flat maps invariably distort spatial relations on the earth’s surface: distance, direction, shape, and\or area. How they distort these relations is part of the topic of map projections. In many projections, especially small-scale maps that show large parts of the earth, this distortion is extreme so that linear or areal scale on one part of the map is very different than on other parts. Even so-called equal area projections maintain equivalent areal scale only for particular global features, and not for all features at all places on the map. Variable scale is sometimes shown on a map by the use of a special symbol or multiple symbols at different locations.

1.2 Analysis Scale Analysis scale includes the size of the units in which phenomena are measured and the size of the units into which measurements are aggregated for data analysis and mapping. It is essentially the scale of understanding of geographic phenomena. Terms such as 13502

‘resolution’ or ‘granularity’ are often used as synonyms for the scale of analysis, particularly when geographers work with digital representations of the earth’s surface in a computer by means of a regular grid of small cells in a satellite image (rasters) or on a computer screen (pixels). Analysis scale here refers to the area of earth surface represented by a single cell. It has long been recognized that in order to observe and study a phenomenon most accurately, the scale of analysis must match the actual scale of the phenomenon. This is true for all three domains of scale— spatial, temporal, and thematic. Identifying the correct scale of phenomena is, thus, a central problem for geographers. Particularly when talking about thematic scale, using data at one scale to make inferences about phenomena at other scales is known as the cross-level fallacy (the narrower case of using aggregated data to make inferences about disaggregated data is wellknown as the ecological fallacy). Geographers often analyze phenomena at what might be called ‘available scale,’ the units that are present in available data. Many problems of analysis scale arise from this practice, but it is unavoidable given the difficulty and expense involved in collecting many types of data over large parts of the earth’s surface. Geographers have little choice in some cases but to analyze phenomena with secondary data, data collected by others not specifically for the purposes of a particular analysis. For example, census bureaus in many countries provide a wealth of data on many social, demographic, and economic characteristics of their populace. Frequently, the phenomenon of interest does not operate according to the boundaries of existing administrative or political units in the data, which after all were not created to serve the needs of geographic analysis. The resolution of image scanners on remote-sensing satellites provides another important example. Landsat imagery is derived from thematic mapper sensors, producing earth measurements at a resolution of about 30 by 30 meters. However, many phenomena occur at finer resolutions than these data can provide. Most useful is theory about the scale of a phenomenon’s existence. Frequently lacking this, but realizing that the available scale may not be suitable, geographers use empirical ‘trial-and-error’ approaches to try to identify the appropriate scale at which a phenomenon should be analyzed. Given spatial units of a particular size, one can readily aggregate or combine them into larger units; it is not possible without additional information or theory to disaggregate them into smaller units. Even given observations measured at very small units, however, there is still the problem of deciding in what way the units should be aggregated. This is known as the modifiable areal unit problem (MAUP, or MTUP in the case of temporal scale). Various techniques have been developed to study the implications of MAUP (Openshaw 1983).

Scale in Geography 1.3 Phenomenon Scale Phenomenon scale refers to the size at which geographic structures exist and over which geographic processes operate in the world. It is the ‘true’ scale of geographic phenomena. Determining the scale of phenomena is clearly a major research goal in geography. It is a common geographic dictum that scale matters. Numerous concepts in geography reflect the idea that phenomena are scale-dependent or are defined in part by their scale. Vegetation stands are smaller than vegetation regions, and linguistic dialects are distributed over smaller areas than languages. The possibility that some geographic phenomena are scale independent is important, however. Patterns seen at one scale may often be observed at other scales; whether this is a matter of analogy or of the same processes operating at multiple scales is theoretically important. The mathematics of fractals has been applied in geography as a way of understanding and formalizing phenomena such as coastlines that are self-similar at different scales (Lam and Quattrochi 1992). The belief has often been expressed that the discipline of geography, as the study of the earth as the home of humanity, can be defined partially by its focus on phenomena at certain scales, such as cities or continents, and not other scales. The range of scales of interest to geographers are often summarized by the use of terminological continua such as ‘local-global’ or ‘micro-, meso-, macroscale.’ The view that geographers must restrict their focus to particular ranges of scales is not shared universally, however, and advances have and will continue to occur when geographers stretch the boundaries of their subject matter. Nonetheless, few would argue that subatomic or interplanetary scales are properly of concern for geography. It is widely recognized that various scales of geographic phenomena interact, or that phenomena at one scale emerge from smaller or larger scale phenomena. This is captured by the notion of a ‘hierarchy of scales,’ in which smaller phenomena are nested within larger phenomena. Local economies are nested within regional economies, rivers are nested within larger hydrologic systems. Conceptualizing and modeling such scale hierarchies can be quite difficult, and the traditional practice within geography of focusing on a single scale largely continues.

2. Generalization The world can never be studied, modeled, or represented in all of its full detail and complexity. Scale is important in part because of its consequences for the degree to which geographic information is generalized. Generalization refers to the amount of detail included in information; it is essentially an issue of simplifi-

cation, but also includes aspects of selection and enhancement of features of particular interest. As one studies or represents smaller pieces of the earth, one tends strongly to deal with more detailed or more finegrained aspects of geographic features. For example, large-scale maps almost always show features on the earth’s surface in greater detail than do small-scale maps; rivers appear to meander more when they are shown on large-scale maps, for instance. Studied most extensively by cartographers, generalization is in fact relevant to all three meanings of scale, and to all three domains of spatial, temporal, and thematic scale.

3. Conclusion Issues of scale have always been central to geographic theory and research. Advances in the understanding of scale and the ability to investigate scale-related problems will continue, particularly with the increasingly common representation of geographic phenomena through the medium of digital geographic information (Goodchild and Proctor 1997). Cartographic scale is becoming ‘visualization’ scale. How is scale, spatial and temporal, communicated in dynamic, multidimensional, and multimodal representations, including visualization in virtual environments? Progress continues on the problem of automated generalization, programming intelligent machines to make generalization changes in geographic data as scale changes. The ability to perform multiscale and hierarchical analysis will be developed further. More profound than these advances, however, the widespread emergence of the ‘digital world’ will foster new conceptions of scale in geography.

Bibliography Buttenfield B P, McMaster R B (eds.) 1991 Map Generalization: Making Rules for Knowledge Representation. Wiley, New York Goodchild M F, Proctor J 1997 Scale in a digital geographic world. Geographical and En
ironmental Modeling 1: 5–23 Hudson J C 1992 Scale in space and time. In: Abler R F, Marcus M G, Olson J M (eds.) Geography’s Inner Worlds: Per
asi
e Themes in Contemporary American Geography. Rutgers University Press, New Brunswick, NJ Lam N S-N, Quattrochi D A 1992 On the issues of scale, resolution, and fractal analysis in the mapping sciences. The Professional Geographer 44: 88–98 MacEachren A M 1995 How Maps Work: Representation, Visualization, and Design. Guilford Press, New York Meyer W B, Gregory D, Turner B L, McDowell P F 1992 The local-global continuum. In: Abler R F, Marcus M G, Olson J M (eds.) Geography’s Inner Worlds: Per
asi
e Themes in Contemporary American Geography. Rutgers University Press, New Brunswick, NJ

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Scale in Geography Muehrcke P C, Muehrcke J O 1992 Map Use: Reading, Analysis, Interpretation, 3rd edn. JP Publications, Madison, WI Openshaw S 1983 The Modifiable Areal Unit Problem. Geo Books, Norfolk, UK

D. R. Montello

and practical consequences. For example, if only violent crimes are subject to classification as homicides, then ‘homicide’ is a kind of ‘violent crime,’ and deaths caused by executive directives to release deadly pollution could not be homicides. 1.2 Typologies

Scaling and Classification in Social Measurement

Classification assimilates perceived phenomena into symbolically labeled categories. Anthropological studies of folk classification systems (D’Andrade 1995) have advanced understanding of scientific classification systems, though scientific usages involve criteria that folk systems may not meet entirely. Two areas of social science employ classification systems centrally. Qualitative analyses such as ethnographies, histories, case studies, etc. offer classifications—sometimes newly invented—for translating experiences in unfamiliar cultures or minds into familiar terms. Censuses of individuals, of occurrences, or of aggregate social units apply classifications—usually traditional—in order to count entities and their variations. Both types of work depend on theoretical constructions that link classification categories.

A typology differentiates entities at a particular level of a taxonomy in terms of one or more of their properties. The differentiating property (sometimes called a feature or attribute) essentially acts as a modifier of entities at that taxonomic level. For example, in the USA kinship system siblings are distinguished in terms of whether they are male or female; in Japan by comparison, siblings are schematized in terms of whether they are older as well as whether they are male or female. A scientific typology differentiates entities into types that are exclusive and exhaustive: every entity at the relevant taxonomic level is of one defined type only, and every entity is of some defined type. A division into two types is a dichotomy, into three types a trichotomy, and into more than three types a polytomy. Polytomous typologies are often constructed by crossing multiple properties, forming a table in which each cell is a theoretical type. (The crossed properties might be referred to as variables, dimensions, or factors in the typology.) For example, members of a multiplex society have been characterized according to whether they do or do not accept the society’s goals on the one hand, and whether they do or do not accept the society’s means of achieving goals on the other hand; then crossing acceptance of goals and means produces a fourfold table defining conformists and three types of deviants. Etic–emic analysis involves defining a typology with properties of scientific interest (the etic system) and then discovering ethnographically which types and combinations of types are recognized in folk meanings (the emic system). Latent structure analysis statistically processes observed properties of a sample of entities in order to confirm the existence of hypothesized types and to define the types operationally.

1.1 Taxonomies

1.3 Aggregate Entities

Every classification category is located within a taxonomy. Some more general categorization, Y, determines which entities are in the domain for the focal categorization, X; so an X always must be a kind of Y. ‘X is a kind of Y’ is the linguistic frame for specifying taxonomies. Concepts constituting a taxonomy form a logic tree, with subordinate elements implying superordinate items. Taxonomic enclosure of a classification category is a social construction that may have both theoretical

Aggregate social entities such as organizations, communities, and cultures may be studied as unique cases, where measurements identify and order internal characteristics of the entity rather than relate one aggregate entity to another. A seeming enigma in social measurement is how aggregate social entities can be described satisfactorily on the basis of the reports of relatively few informants, even though statistical theory calls for substantial samples of respondents to survey populations. The

Social measurements translate observed characteristics of individuals, events, relationships, organizations, societies, etc. into symbolic classifications that enable reasoning of a verbal, logical, or mathematical nature. Qualitative research and censuses together define one realm of measurement, concerned with assignment of entities to classification categories embedded within taxonomies and typologies. Another topic in measurement involves scaling discrete items of information such as answers to questions so as to produce quantitative measurements for mathematical analyses. A third issue is the linkage between social measurements and social theories.

1. Classifications

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Scaling and Classification in Social Measurement key is that informants all report on the same thing—a single culture, community, or organization—whereas respondents in a social survey typically report on diverse things—their own personal characteristics, beliefs, or experiences. Thus, reports from informants serve as multiple indicators of a single state, and the number needed depends on how many observations are needed to define a point reliably, rather than how many respondents are needed to describe a population’s diversity reliably. As few as seven expert informants can yield reliable descriptions of aggregate social entities, though more are needed as informants’ expertise declines (Romney et al. 1986). Informant expertise correlates with greater intelligence and experience (D’Andrade 1995) and with having a high level of social integration (Thomas and Heise 1995).

2. Relations Case grammar in linguistics defines events and relationships in terms of an actor, action, object, and perhaps instrumentation, setting, products, and other factors as well. Mapping sentences (Shye et al. 1994) apply the case grammar idea with relatively small lists of entities in order to classify relational phenomena within social aggregates. For example, interpersonal relations in a group can be specified by pairing group members with actions such as loves, admires, annoys, befriends, and angers. Mapping sentences defining the relations between individuals or among social organizations constitute the measurement model for social network research.

3. Scaling Quantitative measurements differentiate entities at a given taxonomic level—serving like typological classifications, but obtaining greater logical and mathematical power by ordering the classification categories. An influential conceptualization (Stevens 1951) posited four levels of quantification in terms of how numbers relate to classification categories. Nominal numeration involves assigning numbers arbitrarily simply to give categories unique names, such as ‘batch 243.’ An ordinal scale’s categories are ordered monotonically in terms of greater-than and less-than, and numbering corresponds to the rank of each category. Numerical ranking of an individual’s preferences for different foods is an example of ordinal measurement. Differences between categories can be compared in an inter
al scale, and numbers applied to categories reflect degrees of differences. Calendar dates are an example of interval measurements—we know from their birth years that William Shakespeare was closer in time to Geoffrey Chaucer than Albert Einstein was to Isaac Newton. In a ratio scale categories have magnitudes that are whole or fractional multiples of one another,

and numbers assigned to the categories represent these magnitudes. Population sizes are an example of ratio measurements—knowing the populations of both nations, we can say that Japan is at least 35 times bigger than Jamaica. A key methodological concern in psychometrics (Hopkins 1998) has been: how do you measure entities on an interval scale given merely nominal or ordinal information? 3.1 Scaling Dichotomous Items Nominal data are often dichotomous yes–no answers to questions, a judge’s presence–absence judgments about the features of entities, an expert’s claims about truth–falsity of propositions, etc. Answers of yes, present, true, etc. typically are coded as ‘one’ and no, absent, false, etc. as ‘zero.’ The goal, then, is to translate zero-one answers for each case in a sample of entities into a number representing the case’s position on an interval scale of measurement. The first step requires identifying how items relate to the interval scale of measurement in terms of a graph of the items’ characteristic curves. The horizontal axis of such a graph is the interval scale of measurement, confined to the practical range of variation of entities actually being observed. The vertical axis indicates probability that a specific dichotomous item has the value one for an entity with a given position on the interval scale of measurement. An item’s characteristic curve traces the changing probability of the item having the value one as an entity moves from having a minimal value on the interval scale to having the maximal value on the interval scale. Item characteristic curves have essentially three different shapes, corresponding to three different formulations about how items combine into a scale. Spanning items have characteristic curves that essentially are straight lines stretching across the range of entity variation. A spanning item’s line may start as a low probability value and rise to a high probability value, or fall from a high value to a low value. A rising line means that the item is unlikely to have a value of one with entities having a low score on the interval scale; the item is likely to have a score of one for entities having a high score on the interval scale; and the probability of the item being valued at one increases regularly for entities between the low and high positions on the scale. Knowing an entity’s value on any one spanning item does not permit assessing the entity’s position along the interval scale. However, knowing the entity’s values on multiple spanning items does allow an estimate of positioning to be made. Suppose heuristically that we are working with a large number of equivalent spanning items, each having an item characteristic curve that starts at probability 0.00 at the minimal point of the interval scale, and rises in a 13505

Scaling and Classification in Social Measurement straight line to probability 1.00 at the maximal point of the interval scale. The probability of an item being valued at one can be estimated from the observed proportion of all these items that are valued at one—which is simply the mean item score when items are scored zero-one. Then we can use the characteristic curve for the items to find the point on the interval scale where the entity must be positioned in order to have the estimated item probability. This is the basic scheme involved in construction of composite scales, where an averaged or summated score on multiple items is used to estimate an entity’s interval-scale value on a dimension of interest (Lord and Novick 1968). The more items that are averaged, the better the estimate of an entity’s position on the interval scale. The upper bound on number of items is pragmatic, determined by how much precision is needed and how much it costs to collect data with more items. The quality of the estimate also depends on how ideal the items are in terms of having straight-line characteristic curves terminating at the extremes of probability. Irrelevant items with a flat characteristic curve would not yield an estimate of scale position no matter how many of them are averaged, because a flat curve means that the probability of the item having a value of one is uncorrelated with the entity’s position on the interval scale. Inferences are possible with scales that include relevant but imperfect items, but more items are required to achieve a given level of precision, and greater weight needs to be given to the more perfect items. Decli
itous items have characteristic curves that rise sharply at a particular point on the horizontal axis. Idealized, the probability of the item having a value of one increases from 0.00 to the left of the inflection point to 1.00 to the right of the inflection point; or alternatively the probability declines from 1.00 to 0.00 in passing the inflection point. Realistically, the characteristic curve of a declivitous item is S-shaped with a steep rise in the middle and graduated approaches to 0.00 at the bottom and to 1.00 at the top. The value of a single declivitous item tells little about an entity’s position along the interval scale. However, an inference about an entity’s scale position can be made from a set of declivitous items with different inflection points, or difficulties, that form a cumulati
e scale. Suppose heuristically that each item increases stepwise at its inflection point. Then for an entity midway along the horizontal axis, items at the left end of the scale will all have the value of one, items at the right end of the scale will all have the value zero, and the entity’s value on the interval scale is between the items with a score of one and the items with a score of zero. If the items’ inflection points are evenly distributed along the interval scale, then the sum of items’ zeroone scores for an entity constitutes an estimate of where the entity is positioned along the interval scale. 13506

That is, few of the items have a value of one if the entity is on the lower end of the interval scale, and many of the items are valued at one if the entity is at the upper end of the interval scale. This is the basic scheme involved in Guttman scalogram analysis (e.g., see Shye 1978, Part 5). On the other hand, we might use empirical data to estimate the position of each item’s inflection point on the interval scale, while simultaneously estimating entity scores that take account of the item difficulties. This is the basic scheme involved in scaling with Rasch models (e.g., Andrich 1988). Entities’ positions on the interval scale can be pinned down as closely as desired through the use of more declivitous items with inflection points spaced closer and closer together. However, adding items to achieve more measurement precision at the low end of the interval scale does not help at the middle or the high end of the interval scale. Thus, obtaining high precision over the entire range of variation requires a large number of items, and it could be costly to obtain so much data. Alternatively, one can seek items whose characteristic curves rise gradually over a range of the interval scale such that sequential items on the scale have overlapping characteristic curves, whereby an entity’s position along the interval scale is indicated by several items. Regional items have characteristic curves that rise and fall within a limited range of the interval scale. That is, moving an entity up the interval scale increases the probability of a particular item having a value of one for a while, and then decreases the probability after the entity passes the characteristic curve’s maximum value. For example, in a scale measuring prejudice toward a particular ethnic group, the probability of agreeing with the item ‘they require equal but separate facilities’ increases as a person moves away from an apartheid position, and then decreases as the person moves further up the scale toward a nondiscriminatory position. A regional item’s characteristic curve is approximately bell-shaped if its maximum is at the middle of the interval scale, but characteristic curves at the ends of the scale are subject to floor and ceiling clipping, making them look like declivitous items. If an entity has a value of one on a regional item, then the entity’s position along the interval scale is known approximately, since the entity must be positioned in the part of the scale where that item has a nonzero probability of being valued at one. However, a value of zero on the same item can result from a variety of positions along the interval scale and reveals little about the entity’s position. Thus, multiple regional items have to be used to assess positions along the whole range of the scale. The items have to be sequenced relatively closely along the scale with overlapping characteristic curves so that no entity will end up in the noninformative state of having a zero value on all items.

Scaling and Classification in Social Measurement One could ask judges to rate the scale position of each item, and average across judges to get an item score; then, later, respondents can be scored with the average of the items they accept. This simplistic approach to regional items was employed in some early attempts to measure social attitudes. Another approach is statistical unfolding of respondents’ choices of items on either side of their own positions on the interval scale in order to estimate scale values for items and respondents simultaneously (Coombs 1964). Item analysis is a routine aspect of scale construction with spanning items, declivitous items, or regional items. One typically starts with a notion of what one wants to measure, assembles items that should relate to the dimension, and tests the items in order to select the items that work best. Since a criterion measurement that can be used for assessing item quality typically is lacking, the items as a group are assumed to measure what they are supposed to measure, and scores based on this assumption are used to evaluate individual items. Items in a scale are presumed to measure a single dimension rather than multiple dimensions. Examining the dimensionality assumption brings in additional technology, such as component analysis or factor analysis in the case of spanning items, multidimensional scalogram analysis in the case of declivitous items, and nonmetric multidimensional scaling in the case of regional items. These statistical methods help in refining the conception of the focal dimension and in selecting the best items for measuring that dimension.

logies, like Rasch scaling and nonmetric multidimensional scaling, can be interpreted within the conjoint analysis framework. Magnitude estimations involve comparisons to an anchor, for example: ‘Here is a reference sound. … How loud is this next sound relative to the reference sound.’ Trained judges using such a procedure can assess intensities of sensations and of a variety of social opinions on ratio scales (Stevens 1951, Lodge 1981). Comparing magnitude estimation in social surveys to the more common procedure of obtaining ratings on category scales with a fixed number of options, Lodge (1981) found that magnitude estimations are more costly but more accurate, especially in registering extreme positions. Rating scales with bipolar adjective anchors like good–bad are often used to assess affective meanings of perceptions, individuals, events, etc. Such scales traditionally provided seven or nine answer positions between the opposing poles with the middle position defined as neutral. Computerized presentations of such scales with hundreds of rating positions along a graphic line yield greater precision by incorporating some aspects of magnitude estimation. Cross-cultural and cross-linguistic research in dozens of societies has demonstrated that bipolar rating scales align with three dimensions—evaluation, potency, and activity (Osgood et al. 1975). An implication is that research employing bipolar rating scales should include scales measuring the standard three dimensions in order to identify contributions of these dimensions to rating variance on other bipolar scales.

4. Measurements and Theory 3.2 Ordered Assessments Ordinal data—the starting point for a three-volume mathematical treatise on measurement theory (Krantz et al. 1971, Suppes et al. 1989, Luce et al. 1990)—may arise from individuals’ preferences, gradings of agreement with statements, reckonings of similarity between stimuli, etc. Conjoint analysis (Luce and Tukey 1964, Michell 1990) offers a general mathematical model for analyzing such data. According to the conjoint theory of measurement, positions on any viable quantitative dimension are predictable from positions on two other quantitative dimensions, and this assumption leads to tests of a dimension’s usefulness given just information of an ordinal nature. For example, societies might be ranked in terms of their socioeconomic development and also arrayed in terms of the extents of their patrifocal technologies (like herding) and matrifocal technologies (like horticulture), each of which contributes additively to socioeconomic development. Conjoint analyses could be conducted to test the meaningfulness of these dimensions, preliminarily to developing interval scales of socioeconomic development and patrifocal and matrifocal technologies. Specific scaling methodo-

Theories and measurements are bound inextricably. In the first place, taxonomies and typologies—which are theoretical constructions, even when rooted in folk classification systems—are entailed in defining which entities are to be measured, so are part of all measurements. Second, scientists routinely assume that any particular measurement is wrong to some degree—even a measurement based on a scale, and that combining multiple measurements improves measurement precision. The underlying premise is that a true value exists for that which is being measured, as opposed to observed values, and that theories apply to true values, not ephemeral observed values. In essence, theories set expectations about what should be observed, in contrast to what is observed, and deviation from theoretical expectations is interpreted as measurement error (Kyburg 1992). A notion of measurement error as deviation from theoretical expectations is widely applicable, even in qualitative research (McCullagh and Behan 1984, Heise 1989). Third, the conjoint theory of measurement underlying many current measurement technologies requires theoretical specification of relations between variables 13507

Scaling and Classification in Social Measurement before the variables’ viability can be tested or meaningful scales constructed. This approach is in creative tension with traditional deductive science, wherein variable measurements are gathered in order to determine if relations among variables exist and theories are correct. In fact, a frequent theme in social science during the late twentieth century was that measurement technology had to improve in order to foster the growth of more powerful theories. It is clear now that the dependence between measurements and theories is more bidirectional than was supposed before the development of conjoint theory. See also: Classification: Conceptions in the Social Sciences; Dimensionality of Tests: Methodology; Factor Analysis and Latent Structure: IRT and Rasch Models; Test Theory: Applied Probabilistic Measurement Structures

Bibliography Andrich D 1988 Rasch Models for Measurement. Sage, Newbury Park, CA Coombs C H 1964 A Theory of Data. John Wiley & Sons, New York D’Andrade R 1995 The De
elopment of Cogniti
e Anthropology. Cambridge University Press, New York Heise D R 1989 Modeling event structures. Journal of Mathematical Sociology 14: 139–69 Hopkins K D 1998 Educational and Psychological Measurement and E
aluation, 8th edn. Allyn and Bacon, Boston Krantz D H, Luce R D, Suppes P, Tversky A 1971 Foundations of Measurement. Volume 1: Additi
e and Polynomial Representations. Academic Press, New York Kyburg Jr. H E 1992 Measuring errors of measurement. In: Savage C W, Ehrlich P (eds.) Philosophical and Foundational Issues in Measurement. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Hillsdale, NJ, pp. 75–91 Lodge M 1981 Magnitude Scaling: Quantitati
e Measurement of Opinions. Sage, Beverly Hills, CA Lord F N, Novick M R 1968 Statistical Theories of Mental Test Scores. Addison-Wesley, Reading, MA Luce R D, Krantz D H, Suppes P, Tversky A 1990 Foundations of Measurement. Volume 3: Representation, Axiomatization, and In
ariance. Academic Press, New York Luce R D, Tukey J W 1964 Simultaneous conjoint measurement: A new type of fundamental measurement. Journal of Mathematical Psychology 1: 1–27 McCullagh B C, Behan C 1984 Justifying Historical Descriptions. Cambridge University Press, New York Michell J 1990 An Introduction to the Logic of Psychological Measurement. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Hillsdale, NJ Osgood C, May W H, Miron M S 1975 Cross-cultural Uni
ersals of Affecti
e Meaning. University of Illinois Press, Urbana, IL Romney A K, Weller S C, Batchelder W H 1986 Culture as consensus: A theory of culture and informant accuracy. American Anthropologist 88: 313–38 Shye S (ed.) 1978 Theory Construction and Data Analysis in the Beha
ioral Sciences, 1st edn. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco Shye S, Elizur D, Hoffman M 1994 Introduction to Facet Theory: Content Design and Intrinsic Data Analysis in Beha
ioral Research. Sage, Thousand Oaks, CA

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Stevens S S 1951 Mathematics, measurement, and psychophysics. In: Stevens S S (ed.) Handbook of Experimental Psychology. John Wiley and Sons, New York, pp. 1–49 Suppes P, Krantz D H, Luce R D, Tversky A 1989 Foundations of Measurement. Volume 2: Geometrical, Threshold, and Probabilistic Representations. Academic Press, New York Thomas L, Heise D R 1995 Mining error variance and hitting pay-dirt: Discovering systematic variation in social sentiments. The Sociological Quarterly 36: 425–39

D. R. Heise

Scaling: Correspondence Analysis In the early 1960s a dedicated group of French social scientists, led by the extraordinary scientist and philosopher Jean-Paul Benze! cri, developed methods for structuring and interpreting large sets of complex data. This group’s method of choice was correspondence analysis, a method for transforming a rectangular table of data, usually counts, into a visual map which displays rows and columns of the table with respect to continuous underlying dimensions. This article introduces this approach to scaling, gives an illustration and indicates its wide applicability. Attention is limited here to the descriptive and exploratory uses of correspondence analysis methodology. More formal statistical tools have recently been developed and are described in Multi
ariate Analysis: Discrete Variables (Correspondence Models).

1. Historical Background Benze! cri’s contribution to data analysis in general and to correspondence analysis in particular was not so much in the mathematical theory underlying the methodology as in the strong attention paid to the graphical interpretation of the results and in the broad applicability of the methods to problems in many contexts. His initial interest was in analyzing large sparse matrices of word counts in linguistics, but he soon realized the power of the method in fields as diverse as biology, archeology, physics, and music. The fact that his approach paid so much attention to the visualization of data, to be interpreted with a degree of ingenuity and insight into the substantive problem, fitted perfectly the esprit geT ometrique of the French and their tradition of visual abstraction and creativity. Originally working in Rennes in western France, this group consolidated in Paris in the 1970s to become an influential and controversial movement in post1968 France. In 1973 they published the two fundamental volumes of, L’Analyse des DonneT es (Data Analysis), the first on La Classification, that is,

Scaling: Correspondence Analysis unsupervised classification or cluster analysis, and the second on, L’Analyse des Correspondances, or correspondence analysis (Benze! cri 1973), as well as from 1977 the journal Les Cahiers de l’Analyse des DonneT es, all of which reflect the depth and diversity of Benze! cri’s work. For a more complete historical account of the origins of correspondence analysis, see Nishisato (1980), Greenacre (1984), and Gifi (1990).

2. Correspondence Analysis Correspondence analysis (CA) is a variant of principal components analysis (PCA) applicable to categorical data rather than interval-level measurement data (see Factor Analysis and Latent Structure: O
er
iew). For example, Table 1 is a contingency table obtained from the 1995 International Social Survey Program (ISSP) survey on national identity, tabulating responses from 23 countries on the question: ‘How much do you agree\disagree with the statement: Generally (respondent’s country) is a country better than most other countries?’ (For example, Austrians are asked to evaluate the statement: Generally Austria is a country better than most other countries.) The object of CA is to obtain a graphical display in the form of a spatial map of the rows (countries) and columns (question responses), where the dimensions of the map as well as the specific positions of the row and column points can be interpreted.

The theory of CA can be summarized by the following steps: (a) Let N be the IiJ table with grand total n and let P l (1\n) N be the correspondence matrix, with grand total equal to 1. CA actually analyzes the correspondence matrix, which is free of the sample size. If N is a contingency table, then P is an observed bivariate discrete distribution. (b) Let r and c be the vectors of row and column sums of P respectively and Dr and Dc diagonal matrices with r and c on the diagonal. (c) Compute the singular value decomposition of the centred and standardized matrix with general element (pijkricj)\Nricj: D−r "/# (Pkr cV )D−c "/# l UDαVV

(1)

where the singular values are in descending order: α  α  … and U V U l VV V l I. " (d) #Compute the standard coordinates X and Y: X l D−r "/# U Y l D−c "/# V

(2)

and principal coordinates F and G: F l X Dα

G l Y Dα

(3)

Notice the following: The results of CA are in the form of a map of points representing the rows and columns with respect to a

Table 1 Responses in 23 countries to question on national pride. Source: ISSP 1995 Country Austria Bulgaria Canada Czech Republic Former E. Germany Former W. Germany Great Britain Hungary Ireland Italy Japan Latvia Netherlands Norway New Zealand Poland Philippines Russia Slovakia Slovenia Spain Sweden USA

Agree strongly

Agree

Can’t decide

Disagree

Disagree strongly

Missing

TOTAL RESPONSE

272 208 538 73 59 121 151 66 167 70 641 92 158 258 283 153 152 272 100 61 71 140 525

387 338 620 156 138 321 408 175 529 324 398 190 758 723 499 378 556 297 199 204 343 426 554

184 163 223 372 138 369 282 268 149 298 139 215 545 334 170 396 260 352 384 258 320 375 168

79 112 99 289 142 232 139 258 120 281 36 225 417 114 41 365 214 307 338 366 372 167 61

33 129 33 158 71 139 25 143 14 98 24 153 129 30 8 80 10 134 267 64 42 80 21

52 155 30 63 64 100 53 90 15 23 18 169 82 68 42 226 8 223 100 83 73 108 38

1007 1105 1543 1111 612 1282 1058 1000 994 1094 1256 1044 2089 1527 1043 1598 1200 1585 1388 1036 1221 1296 1367

13509

Scaling: Correspondence Analysis selected pair of principal axes, corresponding to pairs of columns of the coordinate matrices—usually the first two columns for the first two principal axes. The choice between principal and standard coordinates is described below. The total variance, called inertia, is equal to the sum of squares of the matrix decomposed in (1):   ( p ijkr i c j )#\( r i cj ) i

(4)

j

which is the Pearson chi-squared statistic calculated on the original table divided by n (see Multi
ariate Analysis: Discrete Variables (O
er
iew)). The squared singular values α #, α#,…, called the # principal inertias, decompose the "inertia into parts attributable to the respective principal axes, just as in PCA the total variance is decomposed along principal axes. The most popular type of map, called the symmetric map, uses the first two columns of F for the row coordinates and the first two columns of G for the column coordinates, that is both in principal coordinates as given by (3). An alternative scaling, which has a more coherent geometric interpretation, but less aesthetic appearance, is the asymmetric map, for example, rows in principal coordinates F and columns in standard coordinates Y in (2) (or vice versa). The choice between a row-principal or column-principal asymmetric map is governed by whether the original table is considered as a set of rows or a set of columns, respectively, when expressed in percentage form. The positions of the rows and the columns in a map are projections of points, called profiles, from their true positions in high-dimensional space onto a bestfitting lower-dimensional space. A row or column profile is the corresponding row or column of the table divided by its respective total—in the case of a contingency table the profile is a conditional frequency distribution. Each profile is weighted by a mass equal to the value of the corresponding row or column margin, ri or cj. The space of the profiles is structured by a weighted Euclidean distance function called the chi-squared distance and the optimal map is obtained by fitting a lower-dimensional space which fits the profiles by weighted least-squares. Equivalent forms of (4) which show the use of profile, mass, and chi-squared distance are:  ri  ( i

j

p ij p kcj )#\cj l  cj  ( ijkri)#\ri ri cj j i

(5)

Thus the inertia is a weighted average squared distance between the profile vectors (e.g., prij, j l 1,… for a row i profile, weighted by the mass ri) and their respective average (e.g., cj, j l 1,…, the average row profile), where the distance is of a weighted Euclidean form (e.g., with inverse weighting of the j-th term by cj). 13510

An equivalent definition of CA is as a pair of classical scaling problems, one for the rows and one for the columns. For example, a square symmetric matrix of chi-squared distances can be calculated between the row profiles, with each point weighted by its respective row mass. Applying classical scaling (also known as principal coordinate analysis, see Scaling: Multidimensional) to this distance matrix, and taking the row masses into account, leads to the row principal coordinates in CA. The singular value decomposition (SVD) may be written in terms of the standard coordinates in the following equivalent form, for the (i, j)-th element: p ijkr i c j l r i c j (1j α k x ik y jk )

(6)

k

which shows that CA can be considered as a bilinear model (see Multi
ariate Analysis: Discrete Variables (Correspondence Models)). For any particular solution, for example in two dimensions where the first two terms of this decomposition are retained, the residual elements have been minimized by weighted least-squares.

3. Application The symmetric map of Table 1, with rows and columns in principal coordinates, is given in Fig. 1. Looking at the positions of the question responses first with respect to the first (horizontal) principal axis, they are seen to lie in their substantive order from ‘strongly disagree’ on the left to ‘strongly agree’ on the right, with ‘missing’ on the disagreement side. The scale values of these categories constitute an optimal scale, by which is meant a standardized interval scale for the categorical variable of agreement—disagreement, including the missing value category, which optimally discriminates between the 23 countries, that is which gives maximum between-country variance. In the two-dimensional map the response category points form a curve known as the ‘horseshoe’ or ‘arch’ which is fairly common for data on an ordinal scale. The second dimension then separates out polarized groups towards the top, or inside the arch, where both extremes of the response scale lie, as well as the missing response in this case. Turning attention to the countries now, they will line up from left to right in an ordination of agreement induced by the scale values. The five Eastern Bloc countries lie on the left, unfavorable, extreme of the map, with Japan, Canada, USA, and New Zealand at the other, favorable side. The countries generally follow the curved shape as well, but a country such as Bulgaria which lies in a unique position inside the curve is characterized by a relatively high polarization of responses as well as high missing values. Bulgaria’s position in the middle of the first axis contrasts with the position of Great Britain, for example, which is

Scaling: Correspondence Analysis

Figure 1 Symmetric correspondence analysis map of Table 1

also in the middle but due to responses more in the intermediate categories of the scale rather than a mixture of extreme responses. The principal inertias are indicated in Fig. 1 at the positive end of each axis and the quality of the display is measured by adding together the percentages of inertia, 68.6 percentj17.8 percent l 86.4 percent. This means that there is a ‘residual’ of 13.6 percent not depicted in the map, which can only be interpreted by investigating the next dimensions from third onwards. This 13.6 percent is the percentage of inertia minimized in the weighted least-squares solution of CA in two dimensions.

4. Contributions to Inertia Apart from assessing the quality of the map by the percentages of inertia, other more detailed diagnostics in CA are the so-called contributions to inertia, based on the two decompositions of the total inertia, first by rows and second by columns: #  ( p ijkr i c j )#\( r i c j ) l  α k# l   r i f ik i

j

k

k

i

# l   c j gjk k

j

# , (respectively, column Every row component r i f ik component c j g#jk ) can be expressed relative to the

principal inertia αk# of the corresponding dimension k, where α#k is the sum of these components for all the rows (respectively, columns). These relative values provide a diagnostic for deciding which rows (respectively, columns) are important in the determination of the k-th principal axis. In a similar way, for a fixed row each row compon# (respectively, column component c g# for a ent r i f ik j jk fixed column) can be expressed relative to the total # (respectively,  c g # ) across all principal  r i f ik k k j jk axes. These relative values provide a diagnostic for deciding which axes are important in explaining each row or column. These values are analogous to the squared factor loadings in factor analysis, that is, squared correlations between the row or column and the corresponding principal axis or factor (see Factor Analysis and Latent Structure: O
er
iew).

5. Extensions Although the primary application of CA is to a twoway contingency table, the method is regularly applied to analyze multiway tables, tables of preferences, ratings, as well as measurement data on ratio- or interval-level scales. For multiway tables there are two approaches. The first approach is to convert the table to a flat two-way table which is appropriate to the problem at hand. Thus, if a third variable is introduced into the example above, say ‘sex of respondent,’ then an appropriate way to flatten the three-way table 13511

Scaling: Correspondence Analysis would be to interactively code ‘country’ and ‘sex’ as a new row variable, with 23i2 l 46 categories, crosstabulated against the question responses. For each country there would now be a male and a female point and one could compare sexes and countries in this richer map. This process of interactive coding of the variables can continue as long as the data do not become too fragmented into interactive categories of very low frequency. Another approach to multiway data, called multiple correspondence analysis (MCA), applies when there are several categorical variables skirting the same issue, often called ‘items.’ MCA is usually defined as the CA algorithm applied to an indicator matrix Z with the rows being the respondents or other sampling units, and the columns being dummy variables for each of the categories of all the variables. The data are zeros and ones, with the ones indicating the chosen categories for each respondent. The resultant map shows each category as a point and, in principle, the position of each respondent as well. Alternatively, one can set up what is called the Burt matrix), B l ZVZ, the square symmetric table of all two-way crosstabulations of the variables, including the crosstabulations of each variable with itself (named after the psychologist Sir Cyril Burt). The Burt matrix is reminiscent of a covariance matrix and the CA of the Burt matrix can be likened to a PCA of a covariance matrix. The analysis of the indicator matrix Z and the Burt matrix B give equivalent standard coordinates of the category points, but slightly different scalings in the principal coordinates since the principal inertias of B are the squares of those of Z. A variant of MCA called joint correspondence analysis (JCA) avoids the fitting of the tables on the diagonal of the Burt matrix, which is analogous to least-squares factor analysis. As far as other types of data are concerned, namely rankings, ratings, paired comparisons, ratio-scale, and interval-scale measurements, the key idea is to recode the data in a form which justifies the basic constructs of CA, namely profile, mass, and chi-squared distance. For example, in the analysis of rankings, or preferences, applying the CA algorithm to the original rankings of a set of objects by a sample of subjects is difficult to justify, because there is no reason why weight should be accorded to an object in proportion to its average ranking. A practice called doubling resolves the issue by adding either an ‘anti-object’ for each ranked object or an ‘anti-subject’ for each responding subject, in both cases with rankings in the reverse order. This addition of apparently redundant data leads to CA effectively performing different variants of principal components analysis on the original rankings. A recent finding by Carroll et al. (1997) is that CA can be applied to a square symmetric matrix of squared distances, transformed by subtracting each squared distance from a constant which is substantially larger 13512

than the largest squared distance in the table. This yields a solution which approximates the classical scaling solution of the distance matrix. All these extensions of CA conform closely to Benze! cri’s original conception of CA as a universal technique for exploring many different types of data through operations such as doubling or other judicious transformations of the data. The latest developments on the subject, including discussions of sampling properties of CA solutions and a comprehensive reference list, may be found in the volumes edited by Greenacre and Blasius (1994) and Blasius and Greenacre (1998). See also: Factor Analysis and Latent Structure: Overview; Multivariate Analysis: Discrete Variables (Correspondence Models); Multivariate Analysis: Discrete Variables (Overview); Scaling: Multidimensional

Bibliography Benze! cri J-P 1973 L’Analyse des DonneT es Vol I: La Classification, Vol. II: L’Analyse des Correspondances. Dunod, Paris Blasius J, Greenacre M J 1998 Visualization of Categorical Data. Academic Press, San Diego, CA Carroll J D, Kumbasar E, Romney A K 1997 An equivalence relation between correspondence analysis and classical metric multidimensional scaling for the recovery of Euclidean distances. British Journal of Mathematical and Statistical Psychology 50: 81–92 Gifi A 1990 Nonlinear Multi
ariate Analysis. Wiley, Chichester, UK Greenacre M J 1984 Theory and Applications of Correspondence Analysis. Academic Press, London Greenacre M J 1993 Correspondence Analysis in Practice. Academic Press, London Greenacre M J, Blasius J 1994 Correspondence Analysis in the Social Sciences. Academic Press, London International Social Survey Program (ISSP) 1995 Sur
ey on National Identity. Data set ZA 2880, Zentralarchiv fu$ r Empirische Sozialforschung. University of Cologne Lebart L, Morineau A, Warwick K 1984 Multi
ariate Descripti
e Statistical Analysis. Wiley, Chichester, UK Nishisato S 1980 Analysis of Categorical Data: Dual Scaling and its Applications. University of Toronto Press, Toronto, Canada

M. Greenacre

Scaling: Multidimensional The term ‘Multidimensional Scaling’ or MDS is used in two essentially different ways in statistics (de Leeuw and Heiser 1980a). MDS in the wide sense refers to any technique that produces a multi-dimensional geo-

Scaling: Multidimensional metric representation of data, where quantitative or qualitative relationships in the data are made to correspond with geometric relationships in the representation. MDS in the narrow sense starts with information about some form of dissimilarity between the elements of a set of objects, and it constructs its geometric representation from this information. Thus the data are ‘dissimilarities,’ which are distance-like quantities (or similarities, which are inversely related to distances). This entry only concentrates on narrowsense MDS, because otherwise the definition of the technique is so diluted as to include almost all of multivariate analysis. MDS is a descriptive technique, in which the notion of statistical inference is almost completely absent. There have been some attempts to introduce statistical models and corresponding estimating and testing methods, but they have been largely unsuccessful. I introduce some quick notation. Dissimilarities are written as δij, and distances are dij(X ). Here i and j are the objects of interest. The nip matrix X is the configuration, with coordinates of the objects in p. Often, data weights wij are also available, reflecting the importance or precision of dissimilarity δij.

1. Sources of Distance Data Dissimilarity information about a set of objects can arise in many different ways. This article reviews some of the more important ones, organized by scientific discipline.

1.1 Geodesy The most obvious application, perhaps, is in sciences in which distance is measured directly, although generally with error. This happens, for instance, in triangulation in geodesy, in which measurements are made which are approximately equal to distances, either Euclidean or spherical, depending on the scale of the experiment. In other examples, measured distances are less directly related to physical distances. For example, one could measure airplane, road, or train travel distances between different cities. Physical distance is usually not the only factor determining these types of dissimilarities.

1.2 Geography\Economics In economic geography, or spatial economics, there are many examples of input–output tables, where the table indicates some type of interaction between a number of regions or countries. For instance, the data may have n countries, where entry fij indicates the number of tourists traveling, or the amount of grain

exported, from i to j. It is not difficult to think of many other examples of these square (but generally asymmetric) tables. Again, physical distance may be a contributing factor to these dissimilarities, but certainly not the only one.

1.3 Genetics\Systematics A very early application of a scaling technique was Fisher (1922). He used crossing-over frequencies from a number of loci to construct a (one-dimensional) map of part of the chromosome. Another early application of MDS ideas is in Boyden (1931), where reactions to sera are used to give similarities between common mammals, and these similarities are then mapped into three-dimensional space. In much of systematic zoology, distances between species or individuals are actually computed from a matrix of measurements on a number of variables describing the individuals. There are many measures of similarity or distance which have been used, not all of them having the usual metric properties. The derived dissimilarity or similarity matrix is analyzed by MDS, or by cluster analysis, because systematic zoologists show an obvious preference for tree representations over continuous representations in p.

1.4 Psychology\Phonetics MDS, as a set of data analysis techniques, clearly originates in psychology. There is a review of the early history, which starts with Carl Stumpf around 1880, in de Leeuw and Heiser (1980a). Developments in psychophysics concentrated on specifying the shape of the function relating dissimilarities and distances, until Shepard (1962) made the radical proposal to let the data determine this shape, requiring this function only to be increasing. In psychophysics, one of the basic forms in which data are gathered is the ‘confusion matrix.’ Such a matrix records how many times row-stimulus i was identified as column-stimulus j. A classical example is the Morse code signals studied by Rothkopf (1957). Confusion matrices are not unlike the input– output matrices of economics. In psychology (and marketing) researchers also collect direct similarity judgments in various forms to map cognitive domains. Ekman’s color similarity data is one of the prime examples (Ekman 1963), but many measures of similarity (rankings, ratings, ratio estimates) have been used.

1.5 Psychology\Political Science\Choice Theory Another source of distance information is ‘preference data.’ If a number of individuals indicate their prefer13513

Scaling: Multidimensional Table 1 Ten psychology journals

A B C D E F G H I J

Journal

Label

American Journal of Psychology Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology Journal of Applied Psychology Journal of Comparati
e and Physiological Psychology Journal of Consulting Psychology Journal of Educational Psychology Journal of Experimental Psychology Psychological Bulletin Psychological Re
iew Psychometrika

AJP JASP JAP JCPP JCP JEP JExP PB PR Pka

ences for a number of objects, then many choice models use geometrical representations in which an individual prefers the object she is closer to. This leads to ordinal information about the distances between the individuals and the objects, e.g., between the politicians and the issues they vote for, or between the customers and the products they buy.

journals. The journals are given in Table 1. The actual data are in Table 2. the basic idea, of course, is that journals with many cross-references are similar.

3. Types of MDS There are two different forms of MDS, depending on how much information is available about the distances. In some of the applications reviewed in Sect. 1 the dissimilarities are known numbers, equal to distances, except perhaps for measurement error. In other cases only the rank order of the dissimilarities is known, or only a subset of them is known.

1.6 Biochemistry Fairly recently, MDS has been applied in the conformation of molecular structures from nuclear resonance data. The pioneering work is Crippen (1977), and a more recent monograph is Crippen and Havel (1988). Recently, this work has become more important because MDS techniques are used to determine protein structure. Numerical analysts and mathematical programmers have been involved, and as a consequence there have been many new and exciting developments in MDS.

3.1 Metric Scaling In metric scaling the dissimilarities between all objects are known numbers, and they are approximated by distances. Thus objects are mapped into a metric space, distances are computed, and compared with the dissimilarities. Then objects are moved in such a way that the fit becomes better, until some loss function is minimized. In geodesy and molecular genetics this is a reasonable procedure because dissimilarities correspond rather directly with distances. In analyzing input– output tables, however, or confusion matrices, such tables are often clearly asymmetric and not likely to be

2. An Example Section 1 shows that it will be difficult to find an example that illustrates all aspects of MDS. We select one that can be used in quite a few of the techniques discussed. It is taken from Coombs (1964, p. 464). The data are cross-references between ten psychological

Table 2 References in row-journal to column-journal

A B C D E F G H I J

13514

A

B

C

D

E

F

G

H

I

J

122 23 0 36 6 6 65 47 22 2

4 303 28 10 93 12 15 108 40 0

1 9 84 4 11 11 3 16 2 2

23 11 2 304 1 1 33 81 29 0

4 49 11 0 186 7 3 130 8 0

2 4 6 0 6 34 3 14 1 1

135 55 15 98 7 24 337 193 97 6

17 50 23 21 30 16 40 52 39 14

39 48 8 65 10 7 59 31 107 5

1 7 13 4 14 14 14 12 13 59

Scaling: Multidimensional directly translatable into distances. Such cases often require a model to correct for asymmetry and scale. The most common class of models (for counts in a square table) is E ( fij) l αi βj exp okφ(dij(X ))q, where φ is some monotone transformation through the origin. For φ equal to the identity this is known as the choice model for recognition experiments in mathematical psychology (Luce 1963), and as a variation of the quasi-symmetry model in statistics (Haberman 1974). The negative exponential of the distance function was also used by Shepard (1957) in his early theory of recognition experiments. As noted in Sect. 1.3, in systematic zoology and ecology, the basic data matrix is often a matrix in which n objects are measured on p variables. The first step in the analysis is to convert this into an nin matrix of similarities or dissimilarities. Which measure of (dis)similarity is chosen depends on the types of variables in the problem. If they are numerical, Euclidean distances or Mahanalobis distances can be used, but if they are binary other dissimilarity measures come to mind (Gower and Legendre 1986). In any case, the result is a matrix which can be used as input in a metric MDS procedure. 3.2 Nonmetric Scaling In various situations, in particular in psychology, only the rank order of the dissimilarities is known. This is either because only ordinal information is collected (for instance by using paired or triadic comparisons) or because, while the assumption is natural that the function relating dissimilarities and distances is monotonic, the choice of a specific functional form is not. There are other cases in which there is incomplete information. For example, observations may only be available on a subset of the distances, either by design or by certain natural restrictions on what is observable. Such cases lead to a distance completion problem, where the configuration is constructed from a subset of the distances, and at the same time the other (missing) distances are estimated. Such distance completion problems (assuming that the observed distances are measured without error) are currently solved with mathematical programming methods (Alfakih et al. 1998).

other. For instance, one can impose the restriction that the configurations are the same, but the transformation relating dissimilarities and distances are different. Or one could require that the projections on the dimensions are linearly related to each other in the sense that dij(Xk) l dij(XWk), where Wk is a diagonal matrix characterizing occasion k. A very readable introduction to three-way scaling is Arabie et al. (1987). 3.4 Unfolding In ‘multidimensional unfolding,’ information is only available about off-diagonal dissimilarities, either metric or nonmetric. This means dealing with two different sets of objects, for instance individuals and stimuli or members of congress and political issues, and dissimilarities between members of the first set and members of the second set, and not on the withinset dissimilarities. This typically happens with preference and choice data, in which how individuals like candies, or candidates like issues is known, but not how the individuals like other individuals, and so on. In many cases, the information in unfolding is also only ordinal. Moreover, it is ‘conditional,’ which means that while it is known that a politician prefers one issue over another, it is not known if a politician’s preference for an issue is stronger than another politician’s preference for another issue. Thus the ordinal information is only within rows of the offdiagonal matrix. This makes unfolding data, especially nonmetric unfolding data, extremely sparse. 3.5 Restricted MDS In many cases it makes sense to impose restrictions on the representation of the objects in MDS. The design of a study may be such that the objects are naturally on a rectangular grid, for instance, or on a circle or ellipse. Often, incorporating such prior information leads to a more readily interpretable and more stable MDS solution. As noted in Sect. 3.3, some of the more common applications of restricted MDS are to three-way scaling.

3.3 Three-way Scaling

4. Existence Theorem

In ‘three-way scaling’ information is available on dissimilarities between n objects on m occasions, or for m subjects. Two easy ways of dealing with the occasions is to perform either a separate MDS for each subject or to perform a single MDS for the average occasion. Three-way MDS constitutes a strategy between these two extremes. This technique requires computation of m MDS solutions, but they are required to be related to each

The basic existence theorem in Euclidean MDS, in matrix form, is due to Schoenberg (1935). A more modern version was presented in the book by Torgerson (1958). I give a simple version here. Suppose E is a nonnegative, hollow, symmetric matrix or order n, and suppose Jn l Inkn" enehn is the ‘centering’ operator. Here In is the identity, and en is a vector with all elements equal to one. Then E is a matrix of squared 13515

Scaling: Multidimensional Euclidean distances between n points in p if and only if k" JnEJn is positive semi-definite of rank less # than or equal to p. This theorem has been extended to the classical nonEuclidean geometries, for instance by Blumenthal (1953). It can also be used to show that any nonnegative, hollow, symmetric E can be embedded ‘nonmetrically’ in nk2 dimensions.

which two points coincide (and a distance is zero). It is shown by de Leeuw (1984) that at a local minimum of STRESS, pairs of points with positive dissimilarities cannot coincide.

5.2 Least Squares on the Squared Distances A second loss function, which has been used a great deal, is SSTRESS, defined by

5. Loss Functions

∆

5.1 Least Squares on the Distances The most straightforward loss function to measure fit between dissimilarities and distances is STRESS, defined by ∆

n

n

STRESS(X ) l   wij(δijkdij(X ))#. i=" j="

(1)

Obviously this formulation applies to metric scaling only. In the case of nonmetric scaling, the major breakthrough in a proper mathematical formulation of the problem was Kruskal (1964). For this case, STRESS is defined as, ∆

STRESS(X, Dp ) l

n

n

SSTRESS(X ) l   wij(δij# kd ij# (X ))#. i=" j="

ni= nj= wij(dV ijkdij(X ))# " " ni= nj= wij(dij(X )kd` ij(X ))# " "

(2)

and this function is minimized over both X and D< , where D< satisfies the constraints imposed by the data. In nonmetric MDS the D< are called disparities, and are required to be monotonic with the dissimilarities. Finding the optimal D< is an ‘isotonic regression problem.’ In the case of distance completion problems (with or without measurement error), the d# ij must be equal to the observed distances if these are observed, and they are otherwise free. One particular property of the STRESS loss function is that it is not differentiable for configurations in

Clearly, this loss function is a (fourth-order) multivariate polynomial in the coordinates. There are no problems with smoothness, but often a large number of local optima results. Of course a nonmetric version of the SSTRESS problem can be confronted, using the same type of approach used for STRESS.

5.3 Least Squares on the Inner Products The existence theorem discussed above suggests a third way to measure loss. Now the function is known as STRAIN, and it is defined, in matrix notation, as ∆

STRAIN(X ) l troJ(∆(#)kD(#)(X ))J(∆(#)kD(#)(X ))q (4) where D(#)(X ) and ∆(#) are the matrices of squared distances and dissimilarities, and where J is the centering operator. Since JD(#)(X )J lk2XXh this means that k" J∆(#)J is approximated by a positive # semi-definite matrix of rank r, which is a standard eigenvalue–eigenvector computation. Again, nonmetric versions of minimizing STRAIN are straightforward to formulate (although less straightforward to implement).

Table 3 Transformed journal reference data 0.00 2.93 4.77 1.89 3.33 2.78 0.77 1.02 1.35 3.79

13516

2.93 0.00 2.28 3.32 1.25 2.61 2.39 0.53 1.41 4.24

4.77 2.28 0.00 3.87 2.39 1.83 3.13 1.22 3.03 2.50

1.89 3.32 3.87 0.00 5.62 4.77 1.72 1.11 1.41 4.50

3.33 1.25 2.39 5.62 0.00 2.44 3.89 0.45 2.71 3.67

(3)

2.78 2.61 1.83 4.77 2.44 0.00 2.46 1.01 2.90 2.27

0.77 2.39 3.13 1.72 3.89 2.46 0.00 0.41 0.92 2.68

1.02 0.53 1.22 1.11 0.45 1.01 0.41 0.00 0.76 1.42

1.35 1.41 3.03 1.41 2.71 2.90 0.92 0.76 0.00 2.23

3.79 4.24 2.50 4.50 3.67 2.27 2.68 1.42 2.23 0.00

Scaling: Multidimensional

6. Algorithms

jection problem on the set of configurations satisfying the constraints, which is usually easy to solve.

6.1 Stress The original algorithms (Kruskal 1964) for minimizing STRESS use gradient methods with elaborate stepsize procedure. In de Leeuw (1977) the ‘majorization method’ was introduced. It leads to a globally convergent algorithm with a linear convergence rate, which is not bothered by the nonexistence of derivatives at places where points coincide. The majorization method can be seen as a gradient method with a constant step-size, which uses convex analysis methods to prove convergence. More recently, faster linearly or superlinearly convergent methods have been tried successfully (Glunt et al. 1993, Kearsley et al. 1998). One of the key advantages of the majorization method is that it extends easily to restricted MDS problems (de Leeuw and Heiser 1980b). Each subproblem in the sequence is a least squares pro-

6.2 SSTRESS Algorithms for minimizing SSTRESS were developed initially by Takane et al. (1977). They applied cyclic coordinate descent, i.e., one coordinate was changed at the time, and cycles through the coordinates were alternated with isotonic regressions in the nonmetric case. More efficient alternating least squares algorithms were developed later by de Leeuw, Takane, and Browne (cf. Browne (1987)), and superlinear and quadratic methods were proposed by Glunt and Liu (1991) and Kearsley et al. (1998). 6.3 STRAIN Minimizing STRAIN was, and is, the preferred algorithm in metric MDS. It is also used as the starting

Figure 1 Metric analysis (STRAIN left, STRESS right)

Figure 2 Nonmetric analysis (transformation left, solution right)

13517

Scaling: Multidimensional point in iterative nonmetric algorithms. Recently, more general algorithms for minimizing STRAIN in nonmetric and distance completion scaling have been proposed by Trosset (1998a, 1998b).

7. Analysis of the Example 7.1 Initial Transformation In the journal reference example, suppose E( fij) l αiβj expokφ(dij(X ))q. In principle this model can be tested by contingency table techniques. Instead the model is used to transform the frequencies to estimated distances, yielding klog

pffgg ffgg $ φ(d (X )) ij ji

ii jj

ij

where fij4 l fijj". This transformed matrix is given in # Table 3.

7.2 Metric Analysis In the first analysis, suppose the numbers in Table 3 are approximate distances, i.e., suppose that φ is the identity. Then STRAIN is minimized, using metric MDS by calculating the dominant eigenvalues and corresponding eigenvectors of the doubly-centered squared distance matrix. This results in the following two-dimensional configurations. The second analysis iteratively minimizes metric STRESS, using the majorization algorithm. The solutions are given in Fig. 1. Both figures show the same grouping of journals, with Pka as an outlier, the journals central to the discipline, such as AJP, JExP, PB, and PR, in the middle, and more specialized journals generally in the periphery. For comparison purposes the STRESS of the first solution is 0.0687, that of the second solution is 0.0539. Finding the second solution takes about 30 iterations.

7.3 Nonmetric STRESS Analysis Next, nonmetric STRESS is minimized on the same data (using only their rank order). The solution is in Fig. 2. The left panel displays the transformation relating the data in Table 3 to the optimally transformed data, a monotone step function. Again, basically the same configuration of journals, with the same groupings emerges. The nonmetric solution has a (normalized) STRESS of 0.0195, and again finding it takes about 30 iterations of the majorization method. The optimal transformation does not seem to deviate systematically from linearity. 13518

8. Further Reading Until recently, the classical MDS reference was the little book by Kruskal and Wish (1978). It is clearly written, but very elementary. A more elaborate practical introduction is by Coxon (1982), which has a useful companion volume (Davies and Coxon 1982) with many of the classical MDS papers. Some additional early intermediate-level books, written from the psychometric point of view, are Davison (1983) and Young (1987). More recently, more modern and advanced books have appeared. The most complete treatment is no doubt Borg and Groenen (1997), while Cox (1994) is another good introduction especially aimed at statisticians.

Bibliography Alfakih A Y, Khandani A, Wolkowicz H 1998 Solving Euclidean distance matrix completion problems via semidefinite programming. Computational Optimization and Applications 12: 13–30 Arabie P, Carroll J D, DeSarbo W S 1987 Three-Way Scaling and Clustering. Sage, Newbury Park Blumenthal L M 1953 Distance Geometry. Oxford University Press, Oxford, UK Borg I, Groenen P 1997 Modern Multidimensional Scaling. Springer, New York Boyden A 1931 Precipitin tests as a basis for a comparitive phylogeny. Proceedings of the Society for Experimental Biology and Medicine 29: 955–7 Browne M 1987 The Young–Householder algorithm and the least squares multidimensional scaling of squared distances. Journal of Classification 4: 175–90 Coombs C H 1964 A Theory of Data. Wiley, New York Cox T F 1994 Multidimensional Scaling. Chapman and Hall, New York Coxon A P M 1982 The User’s Guide to Multidimensional Scaling: With Special Reference to the MDS(X) Library of Computer Programs. Heinemann, Exeter, NH Crippen G M 1977 A novel approach to calculation of conformation: Distance geometry. Journal of Computational Physics 24: 96–107 Crippen G M, Havel T F 1988 Distance Geometry and Molecular Conformation. Wiley, New York Davies P M, Coxon A P M 1982 Key Texts in Multidimensional Scaling. Heinemann, Exeter, NH Davison M L 1983 Multidimensional Scaling. Wiley, New York de Leeuw J 1977 Applications of convex analysis to multidimensional scaling. In: Barra J R, Brodeau F, Romier G, van Cutsem B (eds.) Recent De
elopments in Statistics: Proceedings of the European Meeting of Statisticians, Grenoble, 6–11 September, 1976. North Holland, Amsterdam, The Netherlands, pp. 133–45 de Leeuw J 1984 Differentiability of Kruskal’s stress at a local minimum. Psychometrika 49: 111–3 de Leeuw J, Heiser W 1980a Theory of multidimensional scaling. In: Krishnaiah P (ed.) Handbook of Statistics. North Holland, Amsterdam, The Netherlands, Vol. II de Leeuw J, Heiser W J 1980b Multidimensional scaling with restrictions on the configuration. In: Krishnaiah P (ed.)

Scandal: Political Multi
ariate Analysis. North Holland, Amsterdam, The Netherlands, Vol. v, pp. 501–22 Ekman G 1963 Direct method for multidimensional ratio scaling. Psychometrika 23: 33–41 Fisher R A 1922 The systematic location of genes by means of cross-over ratios. American Naturalist 56: 406–11 Glunt W, Hayden T L, Liu W M 1991 The embedding problem for predistance matrices. Bulletin of Mathematical Biology 53: 769–96 Glunt W, Hayden T, Rayden M 1993 Molecular conformations from distance matrices. Journal of Computational Chemistry 14: 114–20 Gower J C, Legendre P 1986 Metric and Euclidean properties of dissimilarity coefficients. Journal of Classification 3: 5–48 Haberman S J 1974 The Analysis of Frequency Data. University of Chicago Press, Chicago Kearsley A J, Tapia R A, Trosset M W 1998 The solution of the metric STRESS and SSTRESS problems in multidimensional scaling using Newton’s method. Computational Statistics 13: 369–96 Kruskal J B 1964 Multidimensional scaling by optimizing goodness of fit to a nonmetric hypothesis. Psychometrika 29: 1–27 Kruskal J B, Wish M 1978 Multidimensional Scaling. Sage, Beverly Hills, CA Luce R 1963 Detection and recognition. In: Luce R D, Bush R R, Galanter E (eds.) Handbook of Mathematical Psychology. Wiley, New York, Vol. 1 Rothkopf E Z 1957 A measure of stimulusa similarity and errors in some paired-associate learning tasks. Journal of Experimental Psychology 53: 94–101 Schoenberg I J 1935 Remarks on Maurice Fre! chet’s article Sur la de! finition axiomatique d’une classe d’espaces distancie! s vectoriellement applicable sur l’espace de Hilbert. Annals of Mathematics 724–32 Shepard R N 1957 Stimulus and response generalization: A stochastic model relating generalization to distance in psychological space. Psychometrika 22: 325–45 Shepard R N 1962 The analysis of proximities: Multidimensional scaling with an unknown distance function. Psychometrika 27: 125–40, 219–46 Takane Y, Young F W, de Leeuw J 1977 Nonmetric individual differences in multidimensional scaling: An alternating least squares method with optimal scaling features. Psychometrika 42: 7–67 Torgerson W S 1958 Theory and Methods of Scaling. Wiley, New York Trosset M W 1998a Applications of multidimensional scaling to molecular conformation. Computing Science and Statistics 29: 148–52 Trosset M W 1998b A new formulation of the nonmetric strain problem in multidimensional scaling. Journal of Classification 15: 15–35 Young F W 1987 Multidimensional Scaling: History, Theory, and Applications. Earlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ

J. de Leeuw

Scandal: Political The word ‘scandal’ is used primarily to describe a sequence of actions and events which involve certain kinds of transgressions and which, when they become

known to others, are regarded as sufficiently serious to elicit a response of disapproval or condemnation. A scandal is necessarily a public event in the sense that, while the actions which lie at the heart of the scandal may have been carried out secretly or covertly, a scandal can arise only if these actions become known to others, or are strongly believed by others to have occurred. This is one respect in which scandal differs from related phenomena such as corruption and bribery; a scandal can be based on the disclosure of corruption or bribery, but corruption and bribery can exist (and often do exist) without being known about by others, and hence without becoming a scandal.

1. The Concept of Scandal The concept of scandal is very old and the meaning has changed over time. In terms of its etymological origins, the word probably derives from the Indogermanic root skand-, meaning to spring or leap. Early Greek derivatives, such as the word skandalon, were used in a figurative way to signify a trap, an obstacle or a ‘cause of moral stumbling.’ The idea of a trap or an obstacle was an integral feature of the theological vision of the Old Testament. In the Septuagint (the Greek version of the Old Testament), the word skandalon was used to describe an obstacle, a stumbling block placed along the path of the believer, which could explain how a people linked to God might nevertheless begin to doubt Him and lose their way. The notion of a trap or obstacle became part of Judaism and early Christian thought, although it was gradually prised apart from the idea of a test of faith. With the development of the Latin word scandalum and its diffusion into Romance languages, the religious connotation was gradually attenuated and supplemented by other senses. The word ‘scandal’ first appeared in English in the sixteenth century; similar words appeared in other Romance languages at roughly the same time. The early uses of ‘scandal’ in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were, broadly speaking, of two main types. First, ‘scandal’ was used in a religious context to refer to the conduct of a person which brought discredit to religion, or to something which hindered religious faith or belief. Second, ‘scandal’ and its cognates were also used in more secular contexts to describe actions or utterances which were regarded as scurrilous or abusive, which damaged an individual’s reputation, which were grossly discreditable, and\or which offended moral sentiments or the sense of decency. It is these later, more secular senses which underlie the most common modern uses of the word ‘scandal.’ Although the word continues to have some use as a specialized religious term, ‘scandal’ is used mainly to refer to a broader form of moral transgression which is no longer linked specifically to religious codes. More precisely, ‘scandal’ could be defined as actions or events which have the following characteristics: their 13519

Scandal: Political occurrence involves the transgression of certain values, norms or moral codes; their occurrence involves a degree of secrecy or concealment, but they are known or strongly believed to exist by individuals other than those directly involved; some individuals disapprove of the actions or events and may be offended by the transgression; some express their disapproval by publicly denouncing the actions or events; and the disclosure and condemnation of the actions or events may damage the reputation of the individuals responsible for them. While scandal necessarily involves some form of transgression, there is a great deal of cultural and historical variability in the kinds of values, norms, and moral codes which are relevant here. What counts as scandalous activity in one context, e.g., extramarital affairs among members of the political elite, may be regarded as acceptable (even normal) elsewhere. A particular scandal may also involve different types of transgression. A scandal may initially be based on the transgression of a moral code (e.g., concerning sexual relations), but as the scandal develops, the focus of attention may shift to a series of ‘second-order transgressions’ which stem from actions aimed at concealing the original offence. The attempt to cover up a transgression—a process that may involve deception, obstruction, false denials, and straightforward lies—may become more important than the original transgression itself, giving rise to an intensifying cycle of claim and counterclaim that dwarfs the original offence. Scandals can occur in different settings and milieux, from local communities to the arenas of national and even international politics. When scandals occur in settings which are more extended than local communities, they generally involve mediated forms of communication such as newspapers, magazines, and, increasingly, television. The media play a crucial role in making public the actions or events which lie at the heart of scandal, either by reporting allegations or information obtained by others (such as the police or the courts) or by carrying out their own investigations. The media also become a principal forum in which disapproval of the actions or events is expressed. Mediated scandals are not simply scandals which are reported by the media; rather, they are ‘mediated events’ which are partly constituted by the activities of media organizations.

2. The Nature of Political Scandal Scandals are common in many spheres of social life; not all scandals are political scandals. So what are the distinctive features of political scandals? One seemingly straightforward way of answering this question is to say that a political scandal is any scandal that involves a political leader or figure. But this is not a particularly helpful or illuminating answer. For an 13520

individual is a political leader or figure by virtue of a broader set of social relations and institutions which endow him or her with power. So if we wish to understand the nature of political scandal, we cannot focus on the individual alone. Another way of answering this question would be to focus not on the status of the individuals involved, but on the nature of the transgression. This is the approach taken by Markovits and Silverstein, two political scientists who have written perceptively about political scandal. According to Markovits and Silverstein (1988), the defining feature of political scandal is that it involves a ‘violation of due process.’ By ‘due process’ they mean the legally binding rules and procedures which govern the exercise of political power. Political scandals are scandals in which these rules and procedures are violated by those who exercise political power and who seek to increase their power at the expense of due process. Since due process is fully institutionalized only in the liberal democratic state, it follows, argue Markovits and Silverstein, that political scandals can occur only in liberal democracies. One strength of Markovits and Silverstein’s account is that it analyzes political scandal in relation to some of the most important institutional features of modern states. But the main shortcoming of this account is that it provides a rather narrow view of political scandal. It treats one dynamic—the pursuit of power at the expense of process—as the defining feature of political scandal. Hence any scandal that does not involve this particular dynamic is ipso facto nonpolitical. This means that a whole range of scandals, such as those based on sexual transgressions, would be ruled out as nonpolitical, even though they may involve senior political figures and may have farreaching political consequences. Markovits and Silverstein’s claim that political scandal can occur only in liberal democracies should also be viewed with some caution. It is undoubtedly the case that liberal democracies are particularly prone to political scandal, but this is due to a number of specific factors (such as the highly competitive nature of liberal democratic politics and the relative autonomy of the press) and it does not imply that political scandal is unique to this type of political organization. Political scandals can occur (and have occurred) in other types of political system, from the absolutist and constitutional monarchies of early modern Europe to the various forms of authoritarian regime which have existed in the twentieth century. But political scandals in these other types of political system are more likely to remain localized scandals and are less likely to spread beyond the relatively closed worlds of the political elite. An alternative way of conceptualizing political scandals is to regard them as scandals involving individuals or actions which are situated within a political field (Thompson 2000). It is the political field that constitutes the scandal as political; it provides the

Scandal: Political context for the scandal and shapes its pattern of development. A field is a structured space of social positions whose properties are defined primarily by the relations between these positions and the resources attached to them. The political field can be defined as the field of action and interaction which bears on the acquisition and exercise of political power. Political scandals are scandals which occur within the political field and which have an impact on relations within this field. They may involve the violation of rules and procedures governing the exercise of political power, but they do not have to involve this; other kinds of transgression can also constitute political scandals. We can distinguish between three main types of political scandal, depending on the kinds of norms or codes which are transgressed. Sex scandals involve the transgression of norms or codes governing the conduct of sexual relations. In some contexts, sexual transgressions carry a significant social stigma and their disclosure may elicit varying degrees of disapproval by others. Financial scandals involve the infringement of rules governing the acquisition and allocation of economic resources; these include scandals involving bribery, kickbacks and other forms of corruption as well as scandals stemming from irregularities in the raising and deployment of campaign funds. Power scandals are based on the disclosure of activities which infringe the rules governing the acquisition or exercise of political power. They involve the unveiling of hidden forms of power, and actual or alleged abuses of power, which had hitherto been concealed beneath the public settings in which power is displayed and the publicly recognized procedures through which it is exercised.

3. The Rise of Political Scandal The origins of political scandal as a mediated event can be traced back to the pamphlet culture of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. During the period of the English Civil War, for instance, there was a proliferation of anti-Royalist pamphlets and newsbooks which were condemned as heretical, blasphemous, scurrilous, and ‘scandalous’ in character. Similarly, in France, a distinctive genre of subversive political literature had emerged by the early eighteenth century, comprising the libelles and the chroniques scandaleuses, which purported to recount the private lives of kings and courtiers and presented them in an unflattering light. However, in the late eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the use of ‘scandal’ in relation to mediated forms of communication began to change, as the term was gradually prised apart from its close association with blasphemy and sedition and increasingly applied to a range of phenomena which displayed the characteristics we now associate with scandal. By the late nineteenth century, mediated scandal had become a relatively common feature of the

political landscape in countries such as Britain and the USA. In Britain there were a number of major scandals, many involving sexual transgressions of various kinds, which destroyed (or threatened to destroy) the careers of key political figures such as Sir Charles Dilke (a rising star of the Liberal Party whose career was irrevocably damaged by the events surrounding a divorce action in which he was named as co-respondent) and Charles Parnell (the charismatic leader of the Irish parliamentary party whose career was destroyed by revelations concerning his affair with Mrs. Katharine O’Shea). There were numerous political scandals in nineteenth-century America too, some involving actual or alleged sexual transgressions (such as the scandal surrounding Grover Cleveland who, it was said, had fathered an illegitimate child) and many involving corruption at municipal, state and federal levels of government. America in the Gilded Age witnessed a flourishing of financial scandals in the political field, and the period of Grant’s Presidency (1869–77) is regarded by many as one of the most corrupt in American history. While the nineteenth century was the birthplace of political scandal as a mediated event, the twentieth century was to become its true home. Once this distinctive type of event had been invented, it would become a recognizable genre that some would seek actively to produce while others would strive, with varying degrees of success, to avoid. The character and frequency of political scandals varied considerably from one national context to another, and depended on a range of specific social and political circumstances. In Britain and the USA, there were significant political scandals throughout the early decades of the twentieth century, but political scandals have become particularly prevalent in the period since the early 1960s. In Britain, the Profumo scandal of 1963 was a watershed. This was a classic sex scandal involving a senior government minister (John Profumo, Secretary of State for War) and an attractive young woman (Christine Keeler), but it also involved issues of national security and a series of second-order transgressions which proved fatal for Profumo’s career. In the USA, the decisive political scandal of the twentieth century was undoubtedly Watergate, a power scandal in which Nixon was eventually forced to resign as President in the face of his imminent impeachment. Many countries have developed their own distinctive political cultures of scandal which have been shaped by, among other things, their respective traditions of scandal, the activities of journalists, media organizations, and other agents in the political field, the deployment of new technologies of communication, and the changing political climate of the time. Political scandal has become a potent weapon in struggles between rival candidates and parties in the political field. As fundamental disagreements over matters of principle have become less pronounced, questions of character and trust have become incr13521

Scandal: Political easingly central to political debate and scandal has assumed increasing significance as a ‘credibility test.’ In this context, the occurrence of scandal tends to have a cumulative effect: scandal breeds scandal, because each scandal exposes character failings and further sharpens the focus on the credibility and trustworthiness of political leaders. This is the context in which President Clinton found that his political career was nearly destroyed by scandal on more than one occasion. Like many presidential hopefuls in the past, Clinton campaigned on the promise to clean up politics after the sleaze of the Reagan administration. But he soon found that members of his own administration—and, indeed, that he and his wife—were being investigated on grounds of possible financial wrongdoing. He also found that allegations and revelations concerning his private life would become highly public issues, threatening to derail his campaign is 1992 (with the Gennifer Flowers affair) and culminating in his impeachment and trial by the Senate following the disclosure of his affair with Monica Lewinsky. What led to Clinton’s impeachment was not the disclosure of the affair as such, but rather a series of second-order transgressions committed in relation to a sexual harassment case instituted by Paula Jones, in the context of which Clinton gave testimony under oath denying that he had had sexual relations with Monica Lewinsky, thereby laying himself open to the charge of perjury, among other things. Clinton’s trial in the Senate resulted in his acquittal, but his reputation was undoubtedly damaged by the scandal which overshadowed the second term of his presidency. See also: Elites: Sociological Aspects; Mass Media: Introduction and Schools of Thought; Political Culture; Political Discourse; Political Trials; Public Opinion: Political Aspects

Bibliography Allen L et al. 1990 Political Scandals and Causes CeleZ bres Since 1945: An International Reference Compendium n.d. Longman, Harlow, Essex, UK, Chicago, IL, USA: Published in the USA and Canada by St. James Press Garment S 1992 Scandal: The Culture of Mistrust in American Politics. Doubleday, New York King A 1986 Sex, money, and power. In: Hodder-Williams R, Ceaser J (eds.) Politics in Britain and the United States: Comparati
e Perspecti
es. Duke University Press, Durham, NC pp. 173–222 Markovits A S, Silverstein M (eds.) 1988 The Politics of Scandal: Power and Process in Liberal Democracies. Holmes and Meier, New York Allen L et al. 1990 Political Scandals and Causes CeleZ bres Since 1945: An International Reference Compendium n.d. Longman, Harlow, Essex, UK, Chicago, IL, USA: Published in the USA and Canada by St. James Press

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Schudson M 1992 Watergate in American Memory: How We Remember, Forget, and Reconstruct the Past. Basic Books, New York Thompson J B 2000 Political Scandal: Power and Visibility in the Media Age. Polity, Cambridge, UK

J. B. Thompson

Schemas, Frames, and Scripts in Cognitive Psychology The terms ‘schema,’ ‘frame,’ and ‘script’ are all used to refer to a generic mental representation of a concept, event, or activity. For example, people have a generic representation of a visit to the dentist office that includes a waiting room, an examining room, dental equipment, and a standard sequence of events in one’s experience at the dentist. Differences in how each of the three terms, schema, frame, and script, are used reflect the various disciplines that have contributed to an understanding of how such generic representations are used to facilitate ongoing information processing. This article will provide a brief family history of the intellectual ancestry of modern views of generic knowledge structures as well as an explanation of how such knowledge influences mental processes.

1. Early De
elopment of the ‘Schema’ Concept The term ‘schema’ was already in prominent use in the writings of psychologists and neurologists by the early part of the twentieth century (e.g., Bartlett 1932, Head 1920, see also Piaget’s Theory of Child De
elopment). Though the idea that our behavior is guided by schemata (the traditional plural form of schema) was fairly widespread, the use of the term ‘schema’ was seldom well defined. Nevertheless, the various uses of the term were reminiscent of its use by the eighteenth century philosopher Immanuel Kant. In his influential treatise Critique of Pure Reason, first published in 1781, Kant wrestled with the question of whether all knowledge is dependent on sensory experience or whether there exists a priori knowledge, which presumably would consist of elementary concepts, such as space and time, necessary for making sense of the world. Kant believed that we depend both on our knowledge gained from sensory experience and a priori knowledge, and that we use a generic form of knowledge, schemata, to mediate between sensorybased and a priori knowledge. Unlike today, when the idea of a schema is most often invoked for large-scale structured knowledge, Kant used the term in reference to more basic concepts. In Critique of Pure Reason he wrote: ‘In truth, it is not images of objects, but schemata, which lie at the foundation of our pure sensuous conceptions. No

Schemas, Frames, and Scripts in Cogniti
e Psychology image could ever be adequate to our conception of triangles in general … The schema of a triangle can exist nowhere else than in thought and it indicates a rule of the synthesis of the imagination in regard to pure figures in space.’ The key idea captured by Kant was that people need mental representations that are typical of a class of objects or events so that we can respond to the core similarities across different stimuli of the same class (see Natural Concepts, Psychology of; Mental Representations, Psychology of ). The basic notion that our experience of the world is filtered through generic representations was also at the heart of Sir Frederic Bartlett’s use of the term ‘schema.’ Bartlett’s studies of memory, described in his classic book published in 1932, presaged the rise of schematheoretic views of memory and text comprehension in the 1970s and 1980s. In his most influential series of studies, Bartlett asked people to read and retell folktales from unfamiliar cultures. Because they lacked the background knowledge that rendered the folktales coherent from the perspective of the culture of origin, the participants in Bartlett’s studies tended to conventionalize the stories by adding connectives and explanatory concepts that fit the reader’s own world view. The changes were often quite radical, particularly when the story was recalled after a substantial delay. For example, in some cases the reader gave the story a rather conventional moral consistent with more familiar folktales. Bartlett interpreted these data as indicating that: ‘Remembering is not the re-excitation of innumerable fixed, lifeless, and fragmentary traces’ (p. 213). Instead, he argued, memory for a particular stimulus is reconstructed based on both the stimulus itself and on a relevant schema. By schema, Bartlett meant a ‘whole active mass of organised past reactions or experience.’ Thus, if a person’s general knowledge of folktales includes the idea that such tales end with an explicit moral, then in reconstructing an unfamiliar folktale the person is likely to elaborate the original stimulus by adding a moral that appears relevant (see Reconstructi
e Memory, Psychology of ). Although Bartlett made a promising start on understanding memory for complex naturalistic stimuli, his work was largely ignored for the next 40 years, particularly in the United States where researchers focused on much more simplified learning paradigms from a behavioral perspective. Then, interest in schemata returned as researchers in the newly developed fields of cognitive psychology and artificial intelligence attempted to study and to simulate discourse comprehension and memory (see Knowledge Acti
ation in Text Comprehension and Problem Sol
ing, Psychology of ).

2. The Redisco
ery of Schemata Interest in schemata as explanatory constructs returned to psychology as a number of memory re-

searchers demonstrated that background knowledge can strongly influence the recall and recognition of text. For example, consider the following passage: ‘The procedure is actually quite simple. First, you arrange items into different groups. Of course, one pile may be sufficient, depending on how much there is to do. If you have to go somewhere else due to lack of facilities that is the next step; otherwise, you are pretty well set.’ This excerpt, from a passage used by Bransford and Johnson (1972), is very difficult to understand and recall unless the reader has an organizing schema for the information. So, readers who are supplied with the appropriate title, Washing Clothes, are able to recall the passage much more effectively than readers who are not given the title. Although the early 1970s witnessed a great number of clear demonstrations that previous knowledge shapes comprehension and memory, progress on specifying exactly how background knowledge becomes integrated with new information continued to be hampered by the vagueness of the schema concept. Fortunately, at this same time, researchers in artificial intelligence (AI) identified the issue of background knowledge as central to simulations of text processing. Owing to the notorious inability of computers to deal with vague notions, the AI researchers had to be explicit in their accounts of how background knowledge is employed in comprehension. A remarkable cross-fertilization occurred between psychology and AI that encouraged the development and testing of hypotheses about the representation and use of schematic knowledge. 2.1 Schema Theory in AI Research: Frames and Scripts Although many researchers in the nascent state of AI research in 1970s were unconcerned with potential connections to psychology, several pioneers in AI research noted the mutual relevance of the two fields early on. In particular, Marvin Minsky and Roger Schank developed formalizations of schema-theoretic approaches that were both affected by, and greatly affected, research in cognitive psychology. One of the core concepts from AI that was quickly adopted by cognitive psychologists was the notion of a frame. Minsky (1975) proposed that our experiences of familiar events and situations are represented in a generic way as frames that contain slots. Each slot corresponds to some expected element of the situation. One of the ways that Minsky illustrated what he meant by a frame was in reference to a job application form. A frame, like an application, has certain general domains of information being sought and leaves blanks for specific information to be filled in. As another example, someone who walks into the office of a university professor could activate a frame for a generic professor’s office that would help orient the person to the situation and allow for easy identification 13523

Schemas, Frames, and Scripts in Cogniti
e Psychology

Figure 1 A child’s birthday party script. The script consists of a set of distinct scenes. The slots under each scene can be filled with default information, such as ‘hot dogs’ for party food. Note that the cake ceremony could be broken down further into scenes such as candle lighting, blowing out candles, etc. Thus, one script or schema can be embedded inside another

of its elements. So, a person would expect to see a desk and chair, a bookshelf with lots of books, and, these days at least, a computer. An important part of Minsky’s frame idea is that the slots of a frame are filled with default values if no specific information from the context is provided (or noticed). Thus, even if the person didn’t actually see a computer in the professor’s office, he or she might later believe one was there because computer would be a default value that filled an equipment slot in the office frame (see Brewer and Treyens 1981 for relevant empirical evidence). The idea that generic knowledge structures contain slots with default values was also a central part of Roger Schank’s work on scripts. Scripts are generic representations of common social situations such as going to the doctor, having dinner at a restaurant, or attending a party (Fig. 1). Teamed with a social psychologist, Robert Abelson, Schank developed computer simulations of understanding stories involving such social situations. The motivation for the development of the script concept was Schank’s observation that people must be able to make a large number of inferences quite automatically in order to comprehend discourse. This can be true even when the discourse consists of a relatively simple pair of sentences: Q: So, would you like to get some dinner? A: Oh, I just had some pizza a bit ago. Even though the question is not explicitly answered, a reader of these two sentences readily understands that the dinner invitation was declined. Note that the interpretation of this exchange is more elaborate if the reader knows that it occurred between a young man and a young woman who met at some social event and 13524

had a lengthy conversation. In this context, a script for asking someone on a date may be invoked and the answer is interpreted as a clear ‘brush off.’ Thus, a common feature of the AI work on frames and scripts in simulations of natural language understanding was that inferences play a key role. Furthermore, these researchers provided formal descriptions of generic knowledge structures that could be used to generate the inferences necessary to comprehension. Both AI researchers and cognitive psychologists of the time recognized that such knowledge structures captured the ideas implicit in Bartlett’s more vague notion of a schema. The stage was set to determine whether frames and scripts were useful descriptors for the knowledge that people actually use when processing information (see Inferences in Discourse, Psychology of; Memory for Text).

2.2 Empirical Support for Schema Theory If people’s comprehension and memory processes are based on retrieving generic knowledge structures and, as necessary, filling slots of those knowledge structures with default values, then several predictions follow. First, people with similar experiences of common situations and events will have similar schemata represented in memory. Second, as people retrieve such schemata during processing, they will make inferences that go beyond directly stated information. Third, in many cases, particularly when processing is guided by a script-like structure, people will have expectations about not only the content of a situation but also the sequence of events. Cognitive psychologists obtained empirical support for each of these predictions. For example, Bower et al. (1979) conducted a series of experiments on people’s generation of, and use of, scripts for common events like going to a nice restaurant, attending a lecture, or visiting the doctor. They found high agreement on the actions that take place in each situation and on the ordering. Moreover, there was good agreement on the major clusters of actions, or scenes, within each script. Consistent with the predictions of schema theory, when people read stories based on a script, their recall of the story tended to include actions from the script that were not actually mentioned in the story. Bower et al. (1979) also used some passages in which an action from a script was explicitly mentioned but out of its usual order in the script. In their recall of such a passage, people tended to recall the action of interest in its canonical position rather than in its actual position in the passage. Cognitive psychologists interested in discourse processing further extended the idea of a schema capturing a sequence of events by proposing that during story comprehension people make use of a story grammar. A story grammar is a schema that specifies the abstract organization of the parts of a story. So, at the highest

Schemas, Frames, and Scripts in Cogniti
e Psychology level a story consists of a setting and one or more episodes. An episode consists of an event that presents a protagonist with an obstacle to be overcome. The protagonist then acts on a goal formulated to overcome the obstacle. That action then elicits reactions that may or may not accomplish the goal. Using such a scheme, each idea in a story can be mapped onto a hierarchical structure that represents the relationship among the ideas (e.g., Mandler 1984). We can use story grammars to predict people’s sentence reading times and recall because the higher an idea is in the hierarchy, the longer the reading time and the better the memory for that idea (see Narrati
e Comprehension, Psychology of ). Thus, the body of research that cognitive psychologists generated in the 1970s and early 1980s supported the notion that data structures like frames and scripts held promise for capturing interesting aspects of human information processing. Nevertheless, it soon became clear that modifications of the whole notion of a schema were necessary in order to account for people’s flexibility in comprehension and memory processing.

3. Schema Theory Re
ised: The New Synthesis Certainly, information in a text or the context of an actual event could serve as a cue to trigger a relevant script. But what about situations that are more novel and no existing script is triggered? At best, human information processing can only sometimes be guided by large-scale schematic structures. Traditionally, schema theorists have tended to view schema application as distinct from the processes involved in building up schemata in the first place. So, people might use a relevant schema whenever possible, but when no relevant schema is triggered another set of processes are initiated that are responsible for constructing new schemata. More recently, however, an alternative view of schemata has been developed, again with contributions both from AI and cognitive psychology. This newer approach places schematic processing at one end of a continuum in which processing varies from data driven to conceptually driven. Data-driven (also known as bottom-up) processing means that the analysis of a stimulus is not appreciably influenced by prior knowledge. In the case of text comprehension, this would mean that the mental representation of a text would stick closely to information that was directly stated. Conceptually driven (also known as top-down) processing means that the analysis of a stimulus is guided by pre-existing knowledge, as, for example, described by traditional schema theory. In the case of text comprehension, this would mean that the reader makes many elaborative inferences that go beyond the information explicitly stated in the text. In many cases, processing will be an intermediate point

on the continuum so that there is a modest conceptually driven influence by pre-existing knowledge structures. This more recent view of schemata has been called schema assembly theory. The central idea of this view is that a schema, in the sense of a framework guiding our interpretation of a situation or event, is always constructed on the spot based on the current context. Situations vary in how much background knowledge is readily available, so sometimes a great deal of related information is accessed that can guide processing and at other times very little of such background knowledge is available. In these cases we process new information in a data-driven fashion. This new view of schemata was synthesized from work in AI and cognitive psychology as researchers realized the need to incorporate a more dynamic view of the memory system into models of knowledgebased processing. For example, AI programs based on scripts performed poorly when confronted with the kinds of script variations and exceptions seen in the ‘real world.’ Accordingly, Schank (1982) began to develop systems in which appropriate script-like structures were built to fit the specific context rather than just retrieved as a precomplied structure. Therefore, different possible restaurant subscenes could be pulled together in an ad hoc fashion based on both background knowledge and current input. In short, Schank’s simulations became less conceptually driven in their operation. Likewise, cognitive psychologists, confronted with empirical data that was problematic for traditional schema theories, have moved to a more dynamic view. There were two main sets of empirical findings that motivated cognitive psychologists to make these changes. First, it became clear that people’s processing of discourse was not as conceptually driven as classic schema theories proposed. In particular, making elaborative inferences that go beyond information directly stated in the text is more restricted than originally believed. People may be quite elaborative when reconstructing a memory that is filled with gaps, but when tested for inference making concurrent with sentence processing, people’s inference generation is modest. For example, according to the classic view of schemata, a passage about someone digging a hole to bury a box of jewels should elicit an inference about the instrument used in the digging. The default value for such an instrument would probably be a shovel. Yet, when people are tested for whether the concept of shovel is primed in memory by such a passage (for example, by examining whether the passage speeds up naming time for the word ‘shovel’), the data suggest that people do not spontaneously infer instruments for actions. Some kinds of inferences are made, such as connections between goals and actions or filling in some general terms with more concrete instances, but inference making is clearly more restricted than researchers believed in the early days after the re13525

Schemas, Frames, and Scripts in Cogniti
e Psychology discovery of schemata (e.g., Graesser and Bower 1990, Graesser et al. 1997). Second, it is not always the case that what we remember from some episode or from a text is based largely on pre-existing knowledge. As Walter Kintsch has shown, people appear to form not one, but three memories as they read a text: a short-lived representation of the exact wording, a more durable representation that captures a paraphrase of the text, and a situation model that represents what was described by the text, rather than the text itself (e.g., Kintsch 1988). It is this third type of representation that is strongly influenced by available schemata. However, whether or not a situation model is formed during comprehension depends on not only the availability of relevant chunks of knowledge, but also the goals of the reader (Memory for Meaning and Surface Memory; Situation Model: Psychological ). Thus, background knowledge can affect processing of new information in the way described by schema theories, but our processing represents a more careful balance of conceptually-driven and data-driven processes than claimed by traditional schema theories. Moreover, the relative contribution of background knowledge to understanding varies with the context, especially the type of text and the goal of the reader. To accommodate more flexibility in the use of the knowledge base, one important trend in research on schemata has been to incorporate schemata into connectionist models. In connectionist models the representation of a concept is distributed over a network of units. The core idea is that concepts, which are really repeatable patterns of activity among a set of units, are associated with varying strengths. Some concepts are so often associated with other particular concepts that activating one automatically entails activating another. However, in most cases the associations are somewhat weaker, so that activating one concept may make another more accessible if needed. Such a system can function in a more top-down manner or a more bottom-up manner depending on the circumstances. To rephrase this idea in terms of traditional schema theoretic concepts, some slots are available but they need not be filled with particular default values if the context does not require it. Thus, the particular configuration of the schema that is used depends to a large extent on the processing situation (see Cognition, Distributed ). In closing, it is important to note that the success that researchers in cognitive psychology and AI have had in delineating the content of schemata and in determining when such background knowledge influences ongoing processing has had an important influence on many other ideas in psychology. The schema concept has become a critical one in clinical psychology, for example in cognitive theories of depression, and in social psychology, for example in understanding the influence of stereotypes on person perception (e.g., Hilton and von Hipple 1996). It 13526

remains to be seen whether the concept of a schema becomes as dynamic in these areas of study as it has in cognitive psychology. See also: Connectionist Models of Concept Learning; Knowledge Activation in Text Comprehension and Problem Solving, Psychology of; Knowledge (Explicit and Implicit): Philosophical Aspects; Knowledge Representation; Knowledge Spaces; Mental Representations, Psychology of; Metaphor and its Role in Social Thought: History of the Concept; Reference and Representation: Philosophical Aspects; Schemas, Social Psychology of

Bibliography Bartlett F C 1932 Remembering. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Bower G H, Black J B, Turner T J 1979 Scripts in memory for text. Cogniti
e Psychology 11: 177–220 Bransford J D, Johnson M K 1972 Contextual prerequisites for understanding: A constructive versus interpretive approach. Journal of Verbal Learning and Verbal Beha
ior 11: 717–26 Brewer W F, Treyens J C 1981 Role of schemata in memory for places. Cogniti
e Psychology 13: 207–30 Graesser A C, Bower G H (eds.) 1990 Inferences and Text Comprehension: The Psychology of Learning and Moti
ation. Academic Press, San Diego, CA, Vol. 25 Graesser A C, Millis K K, Zwaan R A 1997 Discourse comprehension. Annual Re
iew of Psychology 48: 163–89 Head H 1920 Studies in Neurology. Oxford University Press, London Hilton J L, von Hipple W 1996 Stereotypes. Annual Re
iew of Psychology 47: 237–71 Kant I 1958 Critique of Pure Reason, trans. by N. K. Smith. Modern Library, New York. Originally published in 1781 Kintsch W 1988 The role of knowledge in discourse comprehension: A construction-integration model. Psychological Re
iew 95: 163–82 Mandler J M 1984 Stories, Scripts, and Scenes: Aspects of Schema Theory. Erlbaum Associates, Hillsdale, NJ Minsky M 1975 A framework for representing knowledge. In: Winston P H (ed.) The Psychology of Computer Vision. McGraw-Hill, New York Schank R C 1982 Dynamic Memory: A Theory of Reminding and Learning in Computers and People. Cambridge University Press, New York Schank R C, Abelson R P 1977 Scripts, Plans, Goals, and Understanding. Erlbaum Associates, Hillsdale, NJ Whitney P, Budd D, Bramucci R S, Crane R S 1995 On babies, bath water, and schemata: A reconsideration of top-down processes in comprehension. Discourse Process 20: 135–66

P. Whitney

Schemas, Social Psychology of Schemas (or schemata) are generic knowledge structures that summarize past experiences and provide a framework for the acquisition, interpretation, and

Schemas, Social Psychology of retrieval of new information. For example, one might have a clown schema based on past encounters with, and previously learned knowledge about, clowns. When one encounters a new clown, one’s clown schema may cause one to notice its painted face, expect polka-dotted pantaloons, interpret its actions as goofy, and recall the presence of a unicycle. Usually, such operations are functional, leading to more rapid, accurate, and detailed information processing. However, such operations can lead to biases or errors when they produce inaccurate information (e.g., when one mistakenly recalls a clown as having a bulbous red nose).

1. History Many of the fundamental precepts underlying the schema concept were anticipated by the Gestalt movement in European psychology. Bartlett (1932) incorporated these ideas into his concept of schema. He posited that past memories are stored as larger, organized structures rather than as individual elements, and that newly perceived information is accommodated into these ‘masses’ of old information. He suggested that this accommodation process is accomplished primarily through unconscious inference and faulty memory. Consequently, his theory focused more on the dysfunctional, reconstructive, and inaccurate nature of schemas. Because of his emphasis on subjective experience and the unconscious, his views and research methods departed from the behaviorist leanings of American psychology, and were largely ignored until the cognitive revolution in the 1960s and 1970s. In the mid-1970s, schema theory was refined by cognitive psychologists (see Brewer and Nakamura 1984 and Hastie 1981). While incorporating Bartlett’s basic premises, these modern approaches also acknowledged the functional benefits of schemas in terms of increased cognitive efficiency and accuracy. Furthermore, these modern approaches extended the concept of schema by incorporating it within contemporary cognitive theory. For example, schemas are now construed as (a) selectively activated, just like any other concept in memory, (b) nested within each other, with each defined partly through reference to related schemas, (c) providing ‘default values’ for embedded informational features, and (d) having active, testable memory functions. These ideas stimulated considerable work on schematic processing within cognitive psychology.

2. Schematic Processing For a schema to affect processing it must first be activated. Because of the unitary and organized nature of schemas, this is generally assumed to be an all-ornothing process, in that the entire schema (as opposed

to bits and pieces) either comes to mind completely or not at all. For example, one could not activate a chair schema without becoming aware of both the typical appearance of chairs and their normal seating function. Research has identified a number of variables that influence when particular schemas are activated by new information, including fit, context and priming. In terms of fit, for example, a chair with typical features like four legs, armrests, and a back is more likely to activate the chair schema than is a threelegged stool. Context can also influence activation, so that an ice chest is more likely to activate a chair schema at a campsite than on a store shelf. Finally, schemas can be primed in memory through frequent or recent experiences that bring them to mind. For example, reading about chairs in this paragraph could increase the likelihood that you would activate a chair schema in response to a tree stump. Once activated, schemas appear to have complex effects on attention. Overall, research suggests that schemas direct attention toward schema-relevant, rather than schema-irrelevant, information. However, it makes some difference whether the schema-relevant information is schema congruent or schema incongruent. Schema-incongruent information captures the most attention, presumably because it violates expectations. Schema-congruent information is attended to while an appropriate schema is in the process of being activated or instantiated, but ignored once this activation is accomplished. For example, early in the process a seat might be noticed because it helps to identify an object as a chair, but once a chair schema is activated, the seat would be ignored as obvious. Schemas have also been shown to have powerful effects on the interpretation (or encoding) of new information, providing a framework that shapes expectancies and judgments. Research suggests that this influence is especially pronounced when the new information is ambiguous, vague or incomplete. For example, the ambiguous word ‘chair’ would be interpreted differently if you had a department head schema activated than if you had a furniture schema activated. Finally, research indicates that schemas affect the retrieval of information from memory. Memory effects are often viewed as reflecting the organizational properties of schemas. Because schemas are large, organized clusters of linked information, they provide multiple routes of access for retrieving individual items of information. Such retrieval routes have been shown to facilitate memory in a number of ways. For example, experts have particularly complex and wellorganized schemas and consequently exhibit better recall for domain-relevant information. Thus, as chess expertise increases, so does memory for board arrangements from actual games (though not for random arrangements). Enhanced recall for schema-related information can reflect either retrieval or guessing mechanisms. For 13527

Schemas, Social Psychology of example, if a newspaper article activates a prisoner execution schema, the link between such executions and electric chairs could help one to recall that an electric chair was mentioned. On the other hand, the schema may instead facilitate an educated guess. As noted previously, schemas have been found to provide defaults for filling in missing information. Thus an electric chair might be ‘remembered’ even if it were not mentioned in the story. Such guesses produce biases and errors when the inferred information is incorrect.

4. Social Psychological Research

3. Criticisms of the Schema Concept

4.1

A number of criticisms were leveled at the schema concept in the 1980s (e.g., Alba and Hasher 1983, Fiske and Linville 1980). First, schemas were criticized as definitionally vague, with little consensus regarding concept boundaries. In other words, it is unclear what differentiates schemas from other kinds of knowledge, attitudes or attributions. Second, research on schemas has been attacked as operationally vague, especially because of unvalidated manipulations. For example, researchers sometimes assume that schemas are activated by cues or expectancies in the absence of manipulation checks evidencing such activation. Third, work on schemas has been denounced as nonfalsifiable, in that virtually any result can be interpreted as reflecting schema use. Fourth, it has been argued that schema theory has difficulty accounting for the complexity and accuracy of memory. For instance, there is evidence that people encode and remember more than simply the gist of events, and that schematic distortions are the exception rather than the rule. Finally, some critics have complained that schema theory and research amounts to little more than the reframing of previously known phenomena in terms of a new, schematic vocabulary. For example, biases in person perception documented as early as the 1940s have since been reframed as schema effects. On the other hand, schema theory survived such criticisms because its strengths clearly outweigh its weaknesses. The breadth of the ‘vague’ schema concept allows it to encompass a wide variety of phenomena, ranging from autobiographical memory to visual perception. In many such contexts, the schema concept has been embedded in elaborate theory, allowing for more precise definition, manipulation, and measurement. With such refinements, schema theory often makes specific, falsifiable predictions that lead to clearer, if not totally unambiguous, interpretations. Additionally, modern schema research has increasingly focused on the ways that schemas facilitate, rather than interfere with, memory, accounting better for the frequent accuracy of memory. Overall, the schema concept has proven to be tremendously heuristic, leading to novel research that has documented important new phenomena.

Social psychologists have examined the effects of trait schemas on the processing of schema-related information (see Taylor and Crocker 1981). This research found patterns of recall for congruent, incongruent, and irrelevant information paralleling the patterns described earlier for cognitive stimuli. Specifically, people best recall trait-incongruent information, followed by trait-congruent information, with traitirrelevant information last. For example, if people have an impression (schema) of Jamie as honest, they would best recall his dishonest behaviors (e.g., embezzling money from the honor society), because this information is surprising and needs to be reconciled with Jamie’s other behaviors. They would next best recall Jamie’s honest behaviors (e.g., returning a lost wallet), because these are expected and, thus, readily fit into the existing schema. Jamie’s honesty-irrelevant behaviors (e.g., consulting on statistical issues) would be worst recalled because they do not relate in any way to the honesty schema. Perhaps one of the most significant contributions of this social psychological work has been to move beyond the differential attention explanation for these findings. Such effects are now understood to also reflect behavior-to-behavior or behavior-to-schema interconnections that are created as people think about how this information can be reconciled. Incongruent information actually becomes most interconnected as people mull it over while trying to make sense of it, and irrelevant information remains least interconnected, because it warrants little reflection.

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Social psychologists have applied the schema concept to complex interpersonal phenomena often using cognitive methods and theory. Given this approach, research on schemas has become an integral part of the subfield known as social cognition. Such research has not only elaborated the kinds of information processing effects described in the cognitive literature, but has also led to the identification of a wide variety of new phenomena. Schematic Processing of Social Information

4.2 Self-schemas Social psychologists have also used the concept of schema to understand the nature of the self, which had been debated by psychologists for a century (see Linville and Carlston 1994). Most early empirical work focused on the content of the self-concept, though such work was hindered by vague conceptions of self and by the idiosyncratic nature of self-knowledge. The conception of self as a schema provided a more coherent definition, and shifted the empirical emphasis from the content of the self to the functions of self-schemas. The consequence was a proliferation

Schemas, Social Psychology of of social psychological research in this area. Considerable empirical effort went into assessing whether the self is a unique kind of schema, distinct from other forms of social knowledge. Although there are exceptions, most studies have failed to find convincing evidence that self-schemas are unique or distinct from other forms of knowledge. Consequently, the seemingly ‘unique’ effects of self-schemas may simply reflect the greater complexity and personal relevance of selfknowledge. Researchers have also explored whether people have just one, unified self-schema, or whether people have multiple self-schemas. Most contemporary theories depict people as having multiple self-schemas, with the one that is currently activated (in use) being referred to as the working or phenomenal self. Several approaches to the idea of multiple selves have been highly influential. One approach (self-complexity theory) suggests that people have different self-schemas representing their varied social roles and relationships such as student, parent, athlete, lover, and so on. When many such self-schemas implicate different attributes, then failures in one realm may be offset by successes in another, leading to emotional buffering and enhanced mental health. On the other hand, when one has few self-schemas, and these overlap considerably, then failure in any realm can have a devastating affect on one’s self-esteem. Another approach (self-discrepancy theory) identifies three kinds of self-schema: the actual self that we each believe describes us as we are, the ideal self that we aspire to become, and the ought self that others expect us to live up to. According to this theory, increased (rather than decreased) overlap among selfschemas leads to enhanced mental health. For example, discrepancies between the actual and ideal selves leads to dysphoria, and discrepancies between the actual and ought selves leads to anxiety. Theorists now construe multiple self-schemas in terms of the different kinds of information that is activated or accessible at any given time. A number of factors affect which selfschema is currently activated. The contexts or situations we find ourselves in can cue particular selfschemas. For instance, a work setting generally will cue our professional selves whereas a home setting will generally cue our familial selves. The self-aspects that are most salient to an individual are also influenced by individual differences. For example, members of Mensa may chronically categorize themselves and others in terms of intelligence. Such ‘schematics’ tend to view the chronic trait as important and to rate themselves highly on that dimension compared with ‘aschematics.’ A related issue involves whether self-schemas are stable or change over time. In general, schemas are viewed as fairly stable representations, and this is even more pronounced for self-schemas. However in recent years, research has focused on factors underlying the occasional malleability of the self-concept. Re-

searchers have shown that major life events, such as losing a job or experiencing the death of a loved one, can affect the self-schema substantially. Additionally, our self-schemas can change when we obtain new selfknowledge (e.g. learning our IQ). Relatedly, our selfschemas can be influenced by how others think about and treat us. For example, research suggests that if teachers treat students as incompetent, the students tend to incorporate this view into their self-schema and behave accordingly. Finally, our self-schemas change over time, reflecting normal age-related changes in maturity, social and cognitive development, and complexity.

4.3 Biases in Person Perception As noted earlier, schemas serve a number of cognitive functions, such as providing a framework for interpreting information and furnishing default values for unobserved or unrecalled details. When these inferences are incorrect, they produce biases and errors. For example, impressions of others can be influenced by context schemas, as when a person is viewed as more athletic when encountered at a gym than when encountered at a funeral. Similarly, impressions of a new acquaintance can be influenced by others present in the environment, even when there is no logical reason for this. For instance, relatives of physically disabled people may be viewed as having some of the same limitations simply because the disability schema has been activated. Impressions can also be influenced by deT ja
u effects. If you meet someone new who resembles someone you already know, activation of the resembled-person’s schema may cause you to assume that the new person has similar traits and characteristics. Role schemas can also bias impressions. If you know two nuns, you may confuse them because they activate similar role schemas. These are just a couple examples of many ways in which schemas can alter impressions.

4.4 Types of Social Schema As the preceding review suggests, social psychologists have identified many different types of social schema. These include previously-mentioned role schemas (e.g., occupations), relationship schemas (e.g., parent), and trait schemas (e.g., honesty). Additionally, impressions of individuals have been construed as person schemas. Event schemas represent common ‘scripts’ as ordered sequences of actions that comprise a social event, such as attending a wedding or dining at a restaurant. Such event schemas facilitate memory for social events, as evidenced by research showing that people have difficulty remembering events that are presented to them in an illogical order. There are also nonverbal schemas composed of series of physical acts 13529

Schemas, Social Psychology of (sometimes called procedural schemas), such as a schema for riding a bike. Similarly, simple judgment rules or heuristics (e.g., smooth talkers are more believable) are sometimes viewed as nonverbal, procedural schemas. Finally, a wide variety of stereotype schemas have been identified in the social literature. Research suggests that race, age, and gender schemas, in particular, are used automatically to categorize others, presumably because these cues are visually salient and our culture defines them as important. Some research has suggested that these automatic schema effects can be overridden when people have sufficient awareness, motivation and cognitive resources to do so (e.g., Devine 1989). However, this issue remains controversial.

Higgins E T 1987 Self discrepancy: A theory relating self and affect. Psychological Re
iew 94: 319–40 Linville P W 1985 Self complexity and affective extremity: Don’t put all of your eggs in one cognitive basket. Social Cognition 3: 94–120 Linville P W, Carlston D E 1994 Social cognition of the self. In: Devine P G, Hamilton D L, Ostrom T M (eds.) Social Cognition: Impact on Social Psychology. Academic Press, San Diego Smith E R 1998 Mental representation and memory. In: Gilbert D T, Fiske S T, Lindzey G (eds.) The Handbook of Social Psychology, 4th edn. Oxford University Press, New York Taylor S E, Crocker J 1981 Schematic bases of social information processing. In: Higgins E T, Herman C P, Zanna M P (eds.) Social Cognition: The Ontario Symposium Vol. 1. Erlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ

D. E. Carlston and L. Mae

5. Future Directions The term schema is no longer in vogue, although the essential features of the concept of schemas have been incorporated within broader theories of knowledge structure and mental representation. Work in this area promises to become increasingly sophisticated in several respects. Sophisticated new cognitive theories (e.g., connectionism) provide a better understanding of how schemas form and evolve as new information is acquired. Theorists are better defining and differentiating different types of cognitive structures and mechanisms. Research is providing better evidence for the kinds of representations assumed to underlie different phenomena. Such developments are refining our understanding of the schema concept and how the mind works in general. Ultimately, this work will prove most interesting and impactful as it demonstrates that schematic representations have behavioral as well as cognitive consequences. See also: Piaget’s Theory of Child Development; Schemas, Frames, and Scripts in Cognitive Psychology; Social Psychology, Theories of

Bibliography Alba J W, Hasher L 1983 Is memory schematic? Psychological Bulletin 93: 203–31 Bartlett F C 1932 Remembering. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Bartlett F C 1967 Remembering. A Study in Experimental and Social Psychology. Cambridge University Press, London Brewer W F, Nakamura G V 1984 The nature and functions of schemas. In: Wyer Jr. R S, Srull T K (eds.) Handbook of Social Cognition Vol. 1. Erlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ Devine P G 1989 Stereotypes and prejudice: Their automatic and controlled components. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 56: 5–18 Fiske S T, Linville P W 1980 What does the schema concept buy us? Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 6: 543–57 Hastie R 1981 Schematic principles in human memory. In: Higgins E T, Herman C P, Zanna M P (eds.) Social Cognition: The Ontario Symposium. Erlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ, Vol. 1

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Schizophrenia Schizophrenia is a psychosis—a severe mental disorder in which the person’s emotions, thinking, judgment, and grasp of reality are so disturbed that his or her functioning is seriously impaired. The symptoms of schizophrenia are often divided into ‘positive’ and ‘negative.’ Positive symptoms are abnormal experiences and perceptions like delusions, hallucinations, illogical and disorganized thinking, and inappropriate behavior. Negative symptoms are the absence of normal thoughts, emotions, and behavior; such as blunted emotions, loss of drive, poverty of thought, and social withdrawal. Despite common features, different forms of schizophrenia are quite dissimilar. One person, for example, may be paranoid, constantly bothered by voices warning him or her about plots or threats, but able to show good judgment and high functioning in many areas of life. Another may be bizarre in manner and appearance, preoccupied with delusions of bodily disorder, passive and withdrawn. So marked are the differences that many researchers believe that the illness will eventually prove to be a set of different conditions which lead to somewhat similar consequences.

1. Diagnostic Difficulties It is difficult to define schizophrenia precisely. The two most common functional psychoses are schizophrenia and bipolar disorder (also known as manic-depressive illness). The distinction between the two is not easy to make and psychiatrists in different parts of the world at different times have drawn the boundaries in different ways. Bipolar disorder is an episodic disorder in which psychotic symptoms are associated with severe alterations in mood—at times elated, agitated episodes of mania, at other times depression, with

Schizophrenia physical and mental slowing, despair, guilt, and low self-esteem. The course of schizophrenia, by way of contrast, though fluctuating, tends to be more continuous, and the person’s display of emotion is likely to be incongruous or lacking in spontaneity. Markedly illogical thinking is common in schizophrenia. Auditory hallucinations may occur in either bipolar disorder or schizophrenia, but in schizophrenia they are more likely to be commenting on the person’s actions or to be conversing one with another. Delusions, also, can occur in both conditions; in schizophrenia they may give the individual the sense that he or she is being controlled by outside forces or that his or her thoughts are being broadcast or interfered with.

2. Schizophrenia is Uni
ersal Schizophrenia is a universal condition and an ancient one. Typical cases are evident in the medical writings of ancient Greece and Rome, and the condition occurs today in every human society. While the content of delusions and hallucinations varies from culture to culture, the form of the illness is similar everywhere. Two World Health Organization studies, applying a standardized diagnostic approach, have identified characteristic cases of schizophrenia in developed and developing world countries from around the globe ( World Health Organization 1979, Jablensky et al. 1992). One of these studies (Jablensky et al. 1992) demonstrated that the rate of occurrence of new cases (the incidence) is similar in every country studied from India to Ireland—around one per 10,000 adults each year. However, since both death and recovery rates for people with psychosis are higher in the Third World, the point prevalence of schizophrenia (the number of cases existing at any point in time) is lower in the Third World—around 3 per 1,000 of the adult population compared to 6 per 1,000 in the developed world ( Warner and de Girolamo 1995). The risk of developing the illness at some time in one’s life (the lifetime prevalence) is a little higher—around one percent of the developed world population. See Mental Illness, Epidemiology of.

3. Conceptual Framework The bio-psychosocial model of illness clarifies how different factors shape schizophrenia. The model posits that the predisposition to developing an illness, its onset, and its course are each influenced by biological, psychological, and sociocultural factors. A variety of factors can affect the different phases of schizophrenia, many being environmental. Some, such as genetics, gender, and synaptic pruning are innate. Biological, psychological and social factors are involved to some extent in most phases of schizophrenia. In general, however, the research suggests that the factors responsible for the predisposition to developing an illness are more likely to be biological, that

psychological factors are often important in triggering the onset, and that the course and outcome are particularly likely to be influenced by sociocultural factors.

4. The Course and Outcome of Schizophrenia Wide variation occurs in the course of schizophrenia. In some cases the onset of illness is gradual, extending over months or years; in others it begins suddenly. Some have episodes of illness lasting weeks or months with full remission of symptoms between each episode; others have a fluctuating course in which symptoms are continuous; others again have little variation over the course of years. Swiss psychiatrist, Luc Ciompi, studied the onset, course, and outcome of illness in people with schizophrenia, following them into old age (Ciompi 1980). He found that the onset of the illness was either acute (less than six months from first symptoms to full-blown psychosis) or insidious in roughly equal numbers of cases; the course was episodic or continuous in approximately equal numbers of patients; and the outcome was moderate to severe disability in half the cases and mild disability or full recovery in the other half. Despite popular and professional belief, schizophrenia does not have a progressive, downhill course with universally poor outcome. In fact, schizophrenia usually becomes less severe as the sufferer grows older. A review of outcome studies conducted in Europe and North America throughout the twentieth century reveals that, over the course of months or years, 20 to 25 percent of people with schizophrenia recover completely from the illness—all their psychotic symptoms disappear and they return to their previous level of functioning. Another 20 percent continue to have some symptoms, but are able to lead satisfying and productive lives ( Warner 1994). In the developing countries, recovery rates are even better. The two World Health Organization studies mentioned above ( World Health Organization 1979, Jablensky et al. 1992) have shown that good outcome occurs in about twice as many patients diagnosed with schizophrenia in the developing world as in the developed world. The reason for the better outcome in the Third World is not completely understood, but it may be that many people with mental illness in developing world villages are better accepted, less stigmatized, and more likely to find work in a subsistence agricultural economy ( Warner 1994).

5. Factors Affecting the Course of Schizophrenia Age of onset: The later in life the illness begins, the milder it proves to be. Onset of schizophrenia before the age of 14 is rare, but when it does begin this early it is associated with a severe course of illness. Onset after the age of 40 is also rare, and is associated with a milder course. 13531

Schizophrenia Gender: Women usually develop their first symptoms of schizophrenia later than men and the course of their illness tends to be less severe. The reason for these differences is not clear, but may be related to the protective effect of female hormones on brain development and function. Stressful life e
ents: Stress can trigger episodes of schizophrenia. People with schizophrenia are more likely to report a stressful life event preceding an episode of illness than during a period of remission. Similarly, stressful events are more likely to occur prior to an episode of schizophrenia than in the same time period for people drawn from the general population (Rabkin 1982). Life stress is also more common before the first episode of schizophrenia and so, although stress does not cause the illness, it may well influence the timing of onset. The research indicates that the life events occurring before episodes of schizophrenia are milder and less objectively troublesome than those before episodes of other disorders such as depression (Beck and Worthen 1972), suggesting that people with schizophrenia are exquisitely sensitive to stress. Domestic stress: The robust results of the ‘expressed emotion’ (EE) research, conducted in several countries in the developed and developing worlds, reveal that people with schizophrenia living with relatives who are critical or over-involved (referred to in the research as high EE) have a higher relapse rate than those living with relatives who are less critical or intrusive (low EE) (Leff and Vaughn 1985, Parker and Hadzi-Pavlovic 1990). A meta-analysis of 26 EE studies of schizophrenia conducted in 11 countries indicates that the relapse rate over a two-year follow-up period was more than twice as high, at 66 percent, for patients in families which included a high EE relative than in low EE households (29 percent) (Kavanagh 1992). Other studies have shown that relatives who are less critical and over-involved exert a positive therapeutic effect on the person with schizophrenia, their presence leading to a reduction in the patient’s level of arousal (Sturgeon et al. 1981). There is no indication that the more critical and over-involved relatives are abnormal by everyday Western standards; low EE family members may be unusually low-key and permissive (Angermeyer 1983). Several studies have shown that family psychoeducational interventions can lead to a change in the level of criticism and over-involvement among relatives of people with schizophrenia and so reduce the relapse rate (Falloon et al. 1982, Berkowitz et al. 1981). Effective family interventions provide three basic ingredients: (a) education about the illness; (b) help in developing problem-solving mechanisms; and (c) practical and emotional support (McFarlane 1983, Falloon et al. 1982, Leff and Vaughn 1985). Substance use: Drug and alcohol abuse is more common among people with serious mental illness. Unemployment, social isolation, and alienation may 13532

contribute to these high rates. Several studies have shown that people with serious mental illness who abuse substances have a worse course of illness (Drake and Wallach 1989) but other researchers have found psychopathology to be no worse or, sometimes, lower among people with mental illness who use substances (Zisook et al. 1992, Buckley et al. 1994). One reason for this discrepancy may lie in the common finding that substance users are also more likely to be noncompliant with treatment (Drake and Wallach 1989); the poor course of illness, when it is observed, may be a result of this noncompliance rather than a direct consequence of substance use.

6. Causes of Schizophrenia There is no single organic defect or infectious agent which causes schizophrenia, but a variety of factors increase the risk of developing the illness, including genetic factors and obstetric complications. Genetic factors. Relatives of people with schizophrenia have a greater risk of developing the illness, the risk being progressively higher among those who are more genetically similar to the person with schizophrenia (see Fig. 1). For a second-degree relative the lifetime risk is about two percent (twice the risk for someone in the general population); for a first-degree relative is about ten percent, and for an identical twin (genetically identical to the person with schizophrenia) the risk is close to 50 percent (Gottesman 1991). Studies of people adopted in infancy reveal that the increased risk of schizophrenia among the relatives of people with the illness is due to inheritance rather than environment. The children of people with schizophrenia have the same increased prevalence of the illness whether they are raised by their biological parent with schizophrenia or by adoptive parents (Gottesman 1991, Warner and de Girolamo 1995). There is evidence implicating several genes in causing schizophrenia ( Wang et al. 1995, Freedman et al. 1997), and it is likely that more than one is responsible, either through an interactive effect or by producing different variants of the disorder. See Mental Illness, Genetics of. Obstetric complications. A review and meta-analysis of studies conducted prior to mid-1994 on the effect of obstetric complications in schizophrenia, reveals that complications before and around the time of birth appear to double the risk of developing the illness (Geddes and Lawrie 1995). In a more recent metaanalysis of a different sample of studies, the same researchers found the risk to be increased by a factor of 1.4. Since these analyses were published, more recent studies have shown variable results. Data gathered at the time of birth from very large cohorts of children born in Finland and Sweden in the 1960s and 1970s indicate that various obstetric complications double

Schizophrenia General population 12.5% 3rd degree relatives

25% 2nd degree relatives

50% 1st degree relatives

1%

First cousins

2%

Uncles/Aunts

2%

Nephews/Nieces

4%

Grandchildren

5%

Half siblings

6%

Parents

6%

Siblings

9%

Children

13%

Fraternal twins 100%

17%

Identical twins

48% 0

Genes shared

Relationship to person with schizophrenia

10 20 30 40 50 Lifetime risk of developing schizophrenia

Figure 1 The average risk of developing schizophrenia for relatives of a person with the illness, compiled from family and twin studies conducted in Europe between 1970 and 1987. Reprinted by permission of the author from Gottesman (1991, p. 96) # 1991 Irving I. Gottesman

or triple the risk of developing schizophrenia (Hultman et al. 1999, Dalman et al. 1999, Jones et al. 1998). An American study shows that the risk of schizophrenia is more than four times greater in those who experience oxygen deprivation before or at the time of birth, and that such complications increase the risk of schizophrenia much more than other psychoses like bipolar disorder (Zornberg et al. 2000). Recent Scottish research, on the other hand, found the effect of obstetric complications to be less than in prior studies (Kendell et al. 2000). Other recent research suggests that only early-onset (before age 30) cases of schizophrenia are associated with obstetric complications (Byrne et al. 2000, Cannon et al. 2000). Obstetric complications are a statistically important risk because they are so common. In the general population, they occur in up to 40 percent of births (the precise rate of occurrence depending on how they are defined) (McNeil 1988, Geddes and Lawrie 1995). The authors of the meta-analyses cited above estimate that complications of pregnancy and delivery may increase the prevalence of schizophrenia by 20 percent (Geddes and Lawrie 1995). The obstetric complications most closely associated with the increased risk of developing schizophrenia are those that induce fetal oxygen deprivation, particularly prolonged labor (McNeil 1988), and placental complications (Jones et al. 1998, Hultman et al. 1999, Dalman et al. 1999). Early delivery is also more

common for those who go on to develop schizophrenia, and infants who suffer perinatal brain damage are at a much-increased risk of subsequent schizophrenia (Jones et al. 1998). Trauma at the time of labor and delivery, and especially prolonged labor, is associated with an increase in structural brain abnormalities—cerebral atrophy and small hippocampi— which occur frequently in schizophrenia (McNeil et al. 2000). Viruses. The risk of intrauterine brain damage is increased if a pregnant woman contracts a viral illness. We know that more people with schizophrenia are born in the late winter or spring than at other times of year, and that this birth bulge sometimes increases after epidemics of viral illnesses like influenza, measles, and chickenpox. Maternal viral infections, however, probably account for only a small part of the increased risk for schizophrenia ( Warner and de Girolamo 1995).

7. Myths about the Causes of Schizophrenia Parenting: Contrary to the beliefs of professionals prior to the 1970s and to the impression still promoted by the popular media, there is no evidence, even after decades of research, that family or parenting problems cause schizophrenia. As early as 1948, psychoanalysts proposed that mothers fostered schizophrenia in their 13533

Schizophrenia offspring through cold and distant parenting. Other theorists blamed parental schisms, and confusing patterns of communication within the family (Lidz et al. 1965, Laing and Esterton 1970). The double-bind theory, put forward by anthropologist Gregory Bateson, argued that schizophrenia is promoted by contradictory parental messages from which the child is unable to escape (Bateson et al. 1956). While enjoying broad public recognition, such theories have seldom been adequately tested, and none of the research satisfactorily resolves the question of whether differences found in the families of people with schizophrenia are the cause or the effect of psychological abnormalities in the disturbed family member (Hirsch and Leff 1975). Millions of family members of people with schizophrenia have suffered needless shame, guilt, and stigma because of this widespread misconception. Drug abuse: Drug abuse does not cause schizophrenia, though it is possible, but by no means certain, that it can trigger the onset of the illness. Hallucinogenic drugs like LSD can induce short episodes of psychosis and heavy use of marijuana and stimulant drugs like cocaine and amphetamines may precipitate brief, toxic psychoses with features similar to schizophrenia (Bowers 1987), but there is no evidence that these drugs cause a long-lasting illness like schizophrenia. In the 1950s and 1960s, LSD was used as an experimental drug in psychiatry in Britain and America, but the proportion of these volunteers and patients who developed a long-lasting psychosis was scarcely greater than in the general population (Cohen 1960, Malleson 1971). A Swedish study found that army conscripts who used marijuana heavily were six times more likely to develop schizophrenia later in life (Andreasson et al. 1987), but this may well have been because those people who were destined to develop schizophrenia were more likely to use marijuana as a way to cope with the premorbid symptoms of the illness. Schizophrenia is preceded by a long period of prodromal symptoms, and a German study has demonstrated that the onset of drug and alcohol abuse in people with schizophrenia usually follows the very first negative symptom of schizophrenia (such as social withdrawal) but precedes the first positive symptom (such as hallucinations). The authors conclude that substance use is an avenue to the relief of the earliest symptoms of the illness, but is not a cause (Hambrecht and Hafner 1995).

8. The Brain in Schizophrenia Physical changes in the brain have been identified in some people with schizophrenia. The analysis of brain tissue after death has revealed a number of structural abnormalities, and new brain-imaging techniques have revealed changes in both the structure and function of the brain during life. Techniques such as magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) reveal changes in the size of 13534

different parts of the brain, especially the temporal lobes. The fluid-filled spaces (the ventricles) in the interior of the temporal lobes are often enlarged and the temporal lobe tissue diminished. The greater the observed changes the greater the severity of the person’s thought disorder and auditory hallucinations (Suddath et al. 1990). Some imaging techniques, such as positron emission tomography (PET), measure the actual functioning of the brain and provide a similar picture of abnormality. PET scanning reveals hyperactivity in the temporal lobes, particularly in the hippocampus, a part of the temporal lobe concerned with episodic memory (Tamminga et al. 1992). Another type of functional imaging, electrophysiological brain recording using EEG tracings, shows that most people with schizophrenia seem to be excessively responsive to repeated environmental stimuli and more limited in their ability to blot out irrelevant information (Freedman et al. 1997). In line with this finding, those parts of the brain that are supposed to screen out irrelevant stimuli, such as the frontal lobe, show decreased activity on PET scan (Tamminga et al. 1992). Tying in with this sensory screening difficulty, postmortem brain tissue examination has revealed problems in a certain type of brain cell—the inhibitory interneuron. These neurons damp down the action of the principal nerve cells, preventing them from responding to too many inputs. Thus, they prevent the brain from being overwhelmed by too much sensory information from the environment. The chemical messengers or neurotransmitters ( primarily gammaamino butyric acid or GABA) released by these interneurons are diminished in the brains of people with schizophrenia (Benes et al. 1991, Akbarian et al. 1993) suggesting that there is less inhibition of brain overload. Abnormality in the functioning of these interneurons appears to produce changes in the brain cells that release the neurotransmitter dopamine. The role of dopamine has long been of interest to schizophrenia researchers, because drugs like amphetamines that increase dopamine’s effects can cause psychoses that resemble schizophrenia, and drugs that block or decrease dopamine’s effect are useful for the treatment of psychoses (Meltzer and Stahl 1976). Dopamine increases the sensitivity of brain cells to stimuli. Ordinarily, this heightened awareness is useful in increasing a person’s awareness during times of stress or danger, but, for a person with schizophrenia, the addition of the effect of dopamine to an already hyperactive brain state may tip the person into psychosis. These findings suggest that in schizophrenia there is a deficit in the regulation of brain activity by interneurons, so that the brain over-responds to environmental signals and lacks the ability to screen out unwanted stimuli. This problem is made worse by a decrease in the size of the temporal lobes, which ordinarily process

Schizophrenia sensory inputs, making it more difficult for the person to respond appropriately to new stimuli. (See MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) in Psychiatry.)

9. Why Does Schizophrenia Begin after Puberty? Schizophrenia researchers have long been puzzled about why the illness normally begins in adolescence when important risk factors, such as genetic loading and neonatal brain damage, are present from birth or sooner. Recent research attempts to address the question. Normal brain development leads to the loss of 30–40 percent of the connections (synapses) between brain cells during the developmental period from early life to adolescence (Huttenlocher 1979). Brain cells themselves do not diminish in number during this period, only their connectivity. It appears that we may need a high degree of connectivity between brain cells in infancy to enhance our ability to learn language rapidly (toddlers learn as many as twelve new words a day). The loss of neurons during later childhood and adolescence, however, improves our ‘working memory’ and our efficiency to process complex linguistic information (McGlashan and Hoffman 2000). For people with schizophrenia, this normally useful process of synaptic pruning is excessive, leaving fewer synapses in the frontal lobes and medial temporal cortex (Feinberg 1983). In consequence, there are deficits in the interaction between these two areas of the brain in schizophrenia, which reduce the adequacy of working memory ( Weinberger et al. 1992). One intriguing computer modeling exercise suggests that decreasing synaptic connections and eroding working memory in this way not only leads to abnormalities in the ability to recognize meaning when stimuli are ambiguous but also to the development of auditory hallucinations (Hoffman and McGlashan 1997). It is possible, therefore, that this natural and adaptive process of synaptic elimination in childhood, if carried too far, could lead to the development of schizophrenia (Feinberg 1983). If true, this would help explain why schizophrenia persists among humans despite its obvious functional disadvantages and its association with reduced fertility. The genes for synaptic pruning may help us refine our capacity to comprehend speech and other complex stimuli, but, when complicated by environmental assaults resulting in brain injury, the result could be symptoms of psychosis. As yet, this formulation is speculative.

10. Effecti
e Inter
entions in Schizophrenia There is more agreement now about what is important in the treatment of schizophrenia than ever before. In establishing the World Psychiatric Association global project designed to combat the stigma and discrimi-

nation resulting from schizophrenia ( Warner 2000), prominent psychiatrists from around the world recently agreed on the following principles: People with schizophrenia can be treated effectively in a variety of settings. These days the use of hospitals is mainly reserved for those in an acute relapse. Outside of the hospital, a range of alternative treatment settings have been devised which provide supervision and support and are less alienating and coercive than the hospital ( Warner 1995). Family involvement can improve the effectiveness of treatment. A solid body of research has demonstrated that relapse in schizophrenia is much less frequent when families are provided with support and education about schizophrenia. Medications are an important part of treatment but they are only part of the answer. They can reduce or eliminate positive symptoms but they have a negligible effect on negative symptoms. Fortunately, modern, novel antipsychotic medications, introduced in the past few years, can provide benefits while causing less severe side effects than the standard antipsychotic drugs which were introduced in the mid-1950s. Treatment should include social rehabilitation. People with schizophrenia usually need help to improve their functioning in the community. This can include training in basic living skills; assistance with a host of day-to-day tasks; and job training, job placement, and work support. The psychosocial clubhouse is one effective model for providing many of these forms of assistance (Mosher and Burti 1989). The assertive community treatment model has proven effective in preventing relapse and hospital admission (Stein and Test 1980). Work helps people recover from schizophrenia. Productive activity is basic to a person’s sense of identity and worth. The availability of work in a subsistence economy may be one of the main reasons that outcome from schizophrenia is so much better in Third World villages ( Warner 1994). Given training and support, most people with schizophrenia can work, as has been demonstrated by several north Italian employment programs ( Warner 1994). However, due to problems such as work disincentives in disability pension schemes, high general unemployment and inadequate vocational rehabilitation services, the employment of people with schizophrenia in Britain and the United States has routinely been as low as 15 percent in recent years ( Warner 2000). People with schizophrenia can get worse if treated punitively or confined unnecessarily. Extended hospital stays are rarely necessary if good community treatment is available. Jails or prisons are not appropriate places of care. Yet, around the world, large numbers of people with schizophrenia are housed in prison cells, usually charged with minor crimes, largely because of the lack of adequate community treatment. People with schizophrenia and their family members should help plan and even deliver treatment. 13535

Schizophrenia Consumers of mental health services can be successfully employed in treatment programs, and when they help train treatment staff, professional attitudes and patient outcome both improve (Sherman and Porter 1991, Warner 2000). People’s responses towards someone with schizophrenia influence the person’s course of illness and quality of life. Negative attitudes can push people with schizophrenia and their families into hiding the illness and drive them away from help. If people with schizophrenia are shunned and feared they cannot be genuine members of their own community. They become isolated and victims of discrimination in employment, accommodation, and education ( Warner 2000). The recent US Surgeon General’s report on mental illness cited stigma as one of the most important obstacles to effective treatment (US Department of Health and Human Services 1999). See also: Depression, Clinical Psychology of; Developmental Psychopathology: Child Psychology Aspects; Differential Diagnosis in Psychiatry; Mental and Behavioral Disorders, Diagnosis and Classification of; Mental Illness, Epidemiology of; Mental Illness, Genetics of; Psychiatric Assessment: Negative Symptoms; Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder: Genetic Aspects; Schizophrenia: Neuroscience Perspective; Schizophrenia, Treatment of

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es of General Psychiatry 50: 178–87 Andreasson S, Allebeck P, Engstrom A, Rydberg U 1987 Cannabis and schizophrenia: A longitudinal study of Swedish conscripts. Lancet 1987(2): 1483–86 Angermeyer M C 1983 ‘Normal deviance’: Changing norms under abnormal circumstances. Presented at the Seventh World Congress of Psychiatry, Vienna Bateson G, Jackson D, Haley J 1956 Towards a theory of schizophrenia. Beha
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R. Warner

Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder: Genetic Aspects Schizophrenia and bipolar mood disorder (the latter sometimes called ‘manic-depressive illness,’) are among the most serious of all psychiatric disorders, indeed of all medical disorders. Both of these psychiatric illnesses tend to have a rather early age of onset, with most patients first becoming ill in their teens or twenties, and the symptoms are often chronic, particularly in the case of schizophrenia. Moreover, these illnesses are often severely disabling, and are associated with increased rates of educational problems, unemployment, marital difficulties, alcohol or substance abuse, and suicide. Schizophrenia and bipolar disorder each affect approximately one percent of the population in the USA and Western Europe. If one takes into account not only the numbers of people affected by schizophrenia or bipolar disorder but also the fact that many patients are seriously disabled for much of their adult lives, then the cost of these two disorders, in both economic and human terms, rivals that of diseases such as heart disease and stroke, which affect more people but tend not to strike until much later in life. This aticle first considers diagnostic issues, including the most widely used diagnostic criteria for schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and related disorders. Evi13537

Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder: Genetic Aspects dence for genetic factors in schizophrenia and bipolar disorder is reviewed next, including some complicating factors, such as the likely presence of etiologic heterogeneity and the interaction of genes with environmental stressors. Issues of genetic counseling are then considered. The chapter concludes with a discussion of evidence that genes for schizophrenia and bipolar disorder may have a ‘silver lining,’ in terms of increased creative potential.

1. Diagnostic Issues 1.1 Schizophrenia and Related Disorders The criteria currently most widely used in diagnosing schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and related disorders are those described in the most recent (4th) edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM-IV) of the American Psychiatric Association (1994). Briefly summarized, the diagnostic criteria for schizophrenia listed in DSM-IV require two or more of the following five characteristic symptoms: hallucinations; delusions; disorganized speech; grossly disorganized behavior; and negative symptoms, such as flattened affect. In addition, the patient must have shown significant deterioration of functioning in areas such as occupational or interpersonal relations, and have had continuous signs of illness for at least six months, including at least one month with the characteristic symptoms. DSM-IV also recognizes several related disorders that manifest milder forms of certain symptoms that are often seen in schizophrenia. Schizotypal personality disorder, for example, is used for persons who have several characteristic features (e.g., magical thinking, recurrent illusions, and peculiar behavior or speech). If a person does not have such schizotypal eccentricities but has shown several signs of marked disinterest in interpersonal relationships (e.g., extreme aloofness, absence of any close friends), then a diagnosis of schizoid personality disorder is given. In paranoid personality disorder, there is a broad pattern of extreme suspiciousness, as shown by several signs (e.g., irrational fears that others wish to harm one). Family and adoption studies suggest that these personality disorders are part of a ‘spectrum’ of disorders that are genetically related to schizophrenia proper. 1.2 Bipolar Disorder and Related Disorders In DSM-IV, the diagnosis of ‘bipolar I’ disorder requires a history of at least one episode of mania, which is defined as a period in which a person’s mood is ‘abnormally and persistently’ expansive, elevated, or irritable. In addition, diagnosis of bipolar disorder requires that the mood change either involve psychotic features which last at least a week, or lead to 13538

hospitalization. The disturbance in mood must be severe enough to disrupt seriously social or occupational functioning, and\or to require hospitalization. The manic episode must also involve at least three (four, if only an irritable mood is present) of seven symptoms: (a) greatly inflated self-esteem, (b) increased activity or restlessness, (c) unusual talkativeness, (d) racing thoughts or flight of ideas, (e) decreased need for sleep, (f ) distractibility, and (g) extremely risky actions (such as buying sprees or reckless driving) whose potentially dangerous consequences are not appreciated. The criteria for a hypomanic episode are essentially the same as those for a manic one, except that the symptoms are neither psychotic nor so severe that they severely impair social functioning or require hospitalization. The term bipolar is potentially confusing, because it does not require a history of major depression, even though most persons with bipolar disorder will also have experienced episodes of major depression. (By contrast, in major depressive disorder, a person has experienced an episode of major depression, but not an episode of mania.) As in the case of schizophrenia, there appears to be a ‘spectrum’ of affective disorders that are genetically related to bipolar disorder but that have symptoms which are milder than those found in frank bipolar disorder. Thus DSM-IV also includes (a) bipolar II disorder (in which a patient has experienced a hypomanic, rather than a manic episode, as well as an episode of major depression) and (b) cyclothymic disorder, which involves a history of multiple hypomanic episodes as well as multiple periods of depressive symptoms (but not major depression). Bipolar disorder is also often accompanied by other concurrent, or ‘co-morbid,’ disorders, such as anxiety disorders, or alcohol and substance abuse. Moreover, even when symptoms of mania and depression are in remission, patients with a history of bipolar disorder often still meet criteria for personality disorders, particularly those with narcissistic or histrionic features. 1.3 Differential Diagnosis A diagnosis of schizophrenia requires that diagnoses of mood disorders and schizoaffective disorders be excluded. Diagnoses of schizophrenia, mood disorders, and schizoaffective disorders all require the exclusion of neurologic syndromes caused by factors such as substance abuse, medications, or general medical condition. Until rather recently there has been a tendency, particularly in the USA, for mania with psychotic features to be misdiagnosed as schizophrenia. Accurate differential diagnosis is crucial, because misdiagnosis (and resultant inappropriate treatment) may result, on the one hand, in patients being needlessly exposed to harmful side effects of medication or, on the other hand, being deprived of

Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder: Genetic Aspects appropriate medications that may alleviate unnecessary suffering and save patients’ jobs, marriages, even their lives. Mania, for example, often responds well to medications (particularly lithium and certain anticonvulsants such as carbamazepine and valproate) that are less effective in treating schizophrenia. It is important, moreover, to diagnose and treat schizophrenia and bipolar disorder as early as possible in the course of the illness because there is increasing evidence that these illnesses (and their underlying brain pathologies) tend to worsen if left untreated (e.g., Wyatt 1991).

2. E
idence for Genetic Factors in Schizophrenia There are several complementary lines of evidence for an important role of genetic factors in the etiology of schizophrenia. First, there are converging lines of evidence from family, twin, and adoption studies that the risk for schizophrenia is greatly increased among schizophrenics’ biological relatives. Second, investigators have, in recent years, increasingly marshalled techniques from molecular genetics to look for more direct evidence of genetic factors in schizophrenia. 2.1 Family, Twin, and Adoption Studies A person’s risk of developing schizophrenia increases, on average, with his or her increasing degree of genetic relatedness to a schizophrenic patient (e.g., Matthysse and Kidd 1976, Holzman and Matthysse 1990, Torrey et al. 1994). The risk of developing schizophrenia over a person’s lifetime is about 0.8 percent for people in the general population, though there is a several-fold variation in the prevalence of schizophrenia across different populations that have been studied around the world (e.g., see Torrey 1987). By contrast, a person’s lifetime risk is 5–10 percent if the person has a first-degree relative with schizophrenia, and is much higher—nearly 50 percent in some studies—if a person is the monozygotic (genetically identical) twin of a schizophrenic patient. While these risk figures are consistent with genetic transmission, they are not conclusive, because the degree of genetic resemblance among relatives tends to parallel their level of exposure to similar environments. Twin studies have rather consistently reported concordance rates for schizophrenia in monozygotic (MZ) twins that are several times higher than those for dizygotic (DZ) twins (e.g., Gottesman et al. 1987, Torrey et al. 1994). It is also noteworthy that the schizophrenia concordance rate for MZ twins reared apart is quite close to that for MZ twins reared together. On the other hand, the number of such MZ twins reared apart is rather small. Moreover, it is unclear whether these twins who were reared in different settings may still have had significant contact with each other after they were separated, so that the

separation of shared genetic and environmental factors may not have been complete. The most conclusive available evidence for genetic factors in schizophrenia, therefore, comes from adoption studies. For example, Heston (1966) studied 47 adult adoptees who had been born in the USA to a schizophrenic mother, but separated shortly after birth. Five of these ‘index’ adoptees were found to have subsequently developed a diagnosis of schizophrenia, vs. none of 50 matched control adoptees who had been born to demographically matched, but psychiatrically healthy, mothers. More systematic adoption studies of schizophrenia have been carried out in Scandinavia. In Denmark, for example, Kety et al. (1994) were able to identify all individuals in the entire country who had been adopted away from their biological parents at an early age and subsequently were hospitalized with a diagnosis of schizophrenia. For each of these 74 schizophrenic adoptees, a ‘control’ adoptee was identified who was closely matched for age, gender, and the socioeconomic status of the adoptive home. The control adoptees’ biological parents had not been hospitalized for mental illness. Psychiatric diagnoses of over 1100 of the adoptees’ respective biological and adoptive relatives were made after careful review of psychiatric interviews and records. Significantly higher rates of schizophrenia were found in the biological (but not in the adoptive) relatives of schizophrenic adoptees than in the biological relatives of control adoptees (5.0 percent vs. 0.4 percent). The prevalence of schizotypal personality disorder was also significantly elevated among the schizophrenic adoptees’ biological relatives (Kendler et al. 1994). Moreover, rates of schizophrenia and related ‘spectrum’ disorders were significantly elevated even in the schizophrenic adoptees’ biological paternal half-siblings, who had not even shared the same womb as the schizophrenic adoptees. 2.2 Association and Linkage Studies In recent decades, advances in molecular genetics have enabled researchers to look more directly for genetic factors in schizophrenia. One strategy is to investigate ‘candidate genes’ for which there is a theoretical reason to suspect a role in schizophrenia. Thus several groups of investigators have looked for genes that influence susceptibility to certain infectious agents, since exposure to these agents, particularly during pre- or perinatal development, appears to increase risk for schizophrenia. For example, in a number of epidemiological studies, increased risk of exposure to influenza during the middle trimester of gestation has been found to be associated with increased risk of schizophrenic outcome. Individuals’ genotypes can powerfully affect their immunologic response to infections (and their mothers’ ability to combat infections while they are still in utero). Several studies have found that certain alleles of genes that play an important role 13539

Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder: Genetic Aspects in immune function, such as those in the HLA complex, are more prevalent in schizophrenia. McGuffin (1989) reviewed nine such studies and concluded that there was a highly significant association between the HLA A9 allele and risk for the paranoid subtype of schizophrenia. Murray et al. (1993) suggested that prenatal exposure to influenza may increase risk of schizophrenia in the offspring because, in genetically susceptible mothers, the flu virus stimulates production of maternal antibodies that cross the placenta and disrupt fetal brain development. Even if one does not have a good ‘candidate’ gene for a disorder such as schizophrenia, however, it is still possible to apply the more indirect strategy of genetic ‘linkage.’ This strategy makes use of the fact that genes that are located very near one another on the same chromosome (and are therefore said to be closely ‘linked’) will tend to be inherited together. As the result of recent advances in molecular genetics, there are now thousands of identified genes that can be used to mark various regions of different chromosomes. One can then study large numbers of ‘multiplex’ families in which there are at least two family members with schizophrenia, in order to examine whether there is a significant tendency for schizophrenia and alleles for particular marker genes to be transmitted together within the same family. In principle, genetic linkage studies provide an elegant approach that makes it possible to identify disease genes whose role in a disease such as schizophrenia is a complete surprise to investigators (and thus would never have been chosen as ‘candidate’ genes for association studies). There are, however, some practical difficulties with linkage studies. One difficulty is that, because hundreds of different marker genes can be examined, there is a rather high probability of obtaining a spurious, or ‘false positive,’ linkage finding by chance. In order to screen out such false positive findings, it is important to determine whether interesting linkage results can be confirmed in new, independent, studies involving large numbers of multiplex families. In fact, linkage findings implicating genes on a particular region of chromosome 6 as risk factors for schizophrenia have recently been reported by several different research groups (e.g., see review by Gershon et al. 1998). 2.3 Etiologic Heterogeneity and Genotype–En
ironment Interactions The search for genetic factors is complicated by several factors. It is likely, for example, that disorders such as schizophrenia are etiologically heterogeneous. That is, it is probable that the syndrome of schizophrenia can be produced by a number of different combinations of genes and\or environmental factors. Thus, while each of a number of different genes may well increase risk for schizophrenia, it is likely that no single gene is necessary for the production of most cases. One 13540

approach to the problem of heterogeneity is to identify characteristics that distinguish specific, genetically more homogeneous, subtypes of schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. Maziade et al. (1994), for example, found evidence for linkage at a locus on chromosome 11 with schizophrenia in one, but not the others, of several large pedigrees that they examined. The schizophrenics in the extended family that did show linkage were distinguished from the families that did not by having a particularly severe and unremitting form of schizophrenia. If this finding can be confirmed in other pedigrees, it would provide a valuable example of the subtyping strategy. A related problem is that, while a particular gene or genes may significantly increase one’s risk for developing schizophrenia or bipolar disorder, it will usually not be sufficient to produce the disorder; that is, most individuals who carry a susceptibility gene will not themselves become ill. (That is, there is ‘incomplete penetrance’ of the gene’s effects.) One strategy for dealing with this latter problem is to identify more sensitive, subclinical, phenotypes that indicate the presence of the gene even in people who do not develop the illness. For example, studies of schizophrenics’ families suggest that most schizophrenics carry a gene which leads to schizophrenia only 5–10 percent of the time, but causes abnormal smooth pursuit eye mo
ements over 70 percent of the time. These eye movement dysfunctions should thus provide a better target for genetic linkage studies than schizophrenia itself (Holzman and Matthysse 1990). A further complication is the likelihood of genotype–environment interactions. For example, there is evidence from dozens of studies that pre- and perinatal complications are significant risk factors for schizophrenia (e.g., Torrey et al. 1987). Such complications are, of course, hardly unique to schizophrenia; this suggests that pre- or perinatal insults to the developing brain may interact with genetic liability factors to produce schizophrenia. Kinney et al. (1999), for example, found that schizophrenics were much more likely than were either control subjects or the schizophrenics’ own non-schizophrenic siblings to have both a major perinated complication and eye tracking dysfunction. Moreover, these non-schizophrenic siblings tended to have either a history of perinatal complications or eye tracking dysfunction, but not both in the same sibling. This pattern of findings was consistent with a two-factor model in which perinatal brain injury and specific susceptibility genes often interact to produce schizophrenia.

3. E
idence for Genetic Factors in Bipolar Disorder As in the case of schizophrenia, several converging lines of evidence strongly implicate genetic factors in the etiology of bipolar disorder.

Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder: Genetic Aspects 3.1 Family, Twin, and Adoption Studies There is a strong tendency for bipolar disorder to run in families, and the risk of bipolar disorder in a firstdegree relative of a manic-depressive is about 8 percent (vs. about 1 percent in the general population). Further evidence for a high heritability of bipolar disorder is provided by twin studies, particularly three twin studies conducted in Scandinavia in recent decades. The average concordance rate for bipolar disorder in these latter studies was 55 percent in MZ vs. only 5 percent in DZ twin pairs (see review by Vehmanen et al. 1995). Complementary evidence for genetic factors in bipolar disorder is provided by adoption studies. For example, Mendlewicz and Ranier (1977) identified 29 adoptees with bipolar disorder, along with demographically matched controls who were either (a) psychiatrically normal or (b) had had polio during childhood. When the biological and adoptive parents of these adoptees were interviewed, significantly more cases of bipolar disorder, major depression, and schizoaffective disorder were found in the biological parents of bipolar adoptees than in the biological parents of either of the two control groups. The respective groups of adoptive parents, by contrast, did not differ significantly in the prevalence of these disorders. 3.2 Association and Linkage Studies Although there have been dozens of reports of linkage between bipolar disorder and genetic loci on various chromosomes, few of these reports have subsequently been confirmed. Among these few are linkages to particular regions of chromosomes X, 18 and 21; each of these linkages has been confirmed by several independent groups. While this suggests that genes in these regions significantly influence susceptibility for bipolar disorder, the effects of these genes on susceptibility may be modest in size (for reviews, see Gershon et al. 1998 and Pekkarinen 1998). A key difficulty in identifying genes in bipolar disorder is the likely presence of etiologic heterogeneity. One approach to overcoming this challenge is to search for markers of genetic subtypes of bipolar disorder. For example, MacKinnon et al. (1998), after identifying a strong tendency for a subtype of bipolar disorder with concomitant panic disorder to run in families, found strong evidence for linkage of the panic-disorder subtype to marker genes on a region of chromosome 18. There was no evidence of such linkage for bipolar disorder without panic disorder. Other research has found that manic-depressive patients who respond well to lithium treatment represent a subtype that is etiologically more homogeneous, and has a stronger familial tendency, than non-lithium responders. Both linkage and association studies suggest that susceptibility to this lithium-

responsive subtype is increased by certain alleles of the gene for phospholipidase C, an enzyme important in the phosphoinositol cycle that is thought to be a therapeutic target of lithium (Alda 1999).

4. Genetic Counseling A recent study (Trippitelli et al. 1998) found that most patients with bipolar disorder and their unaffected spouses would be interested in receiving counseling about their own genetic risk, and that of their children. The majority of patients and spouses, for example, would take advantage of a test for susceptibility genes. Even when precise gene(s) involved in a particular case of schizophrenia or bipolar disorder are unknown, genetic counselors can provide a patient’s relatives with an estimated risk of developing the disorder, based on average figures from many different family studies. These risk figures, it should be noted, refer to a person’s lifetime risk—an important distinction (e.g., for schizophrenia, one’s risk has been cut roughly in half by age 30, and by age 50 it is extremely small). It is crucial that counseling be based on accurate differential diagnosis. Problems often encountered in counseling, such as counselees being confused by genetic information, or feeling fearful and embarrassed, may be heightened in families with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, because these psychiatric disorders often carry a social stigma, and because many parents have (unfairly) been blamed for their child’s illness. For these reasons, Kessler (1980) emphasized the importance of (a) careful follow-up, to make sure that counseling was understood, and (b) the inclusion of professionals with good psychotherapeutic skills as part of the counseling team.

5. Creati
ity and Liability for Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder There is increasing evidence, from converging lines of research, for the idea that genetic liability for schizophrenia and bipolar disorder is associated with unusual creative potential. This idea, which has long been the subject for theoretical speculation, has received empirical support from several complementary types of studies. For example, a number of studies involving non-clinical samples have reported that more creative subjects tend to score higher on personality test variables that are associated with liability for schizophrenia or bipolar disorder.

5.1 Creati
ity in Schizophrenics’ Biological Relati
es Of even greater interest are studies that have found unusual creativity in samples of the healthier bio13541

Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder: Genetic Aspects logical relatives of diagnosed schizophrenics. In an Icelandic sample, for example, Karlsson (1970) found that the biological relatives of schizophrenics were significantly more likely than people in the general population to be recognized in Who’s Who for their work in creative professions. In the adoption study noted earlier, Heston (1966) serendipitously discovered that, among the psychologically healthier ‘index’ adoptees (i.e., who had a biological mother with schizophrenia), there was a subgroup of psychologically healthy individuals who had more creative jobs and hobbies than the control adoptees. Using a similar research design, Kinney et al. (2000) studied the adopted-away offspring of schizophrenic and control biological parents. The creativity of these adoptees’ actual vocational and avocational activities was rated by investigators who were blind to the adoptees’ personal and family histories of psychopathology. Real-life creativity was rated as significantly higher, on average, for subjects who, while not schizophrenic, did have signs of magical thinking, recurrent illusions or odd speech. 5.2 Creati
ity in Patients with Bipolar Disorder and Their Relati
es There is also evidence for increased creativity among subjects with major mood disorders and their biological relatives. Studies of eminent writers, artists, and composers carried out in the USA, the UK, and France, all found significantly higher rates of major mood disorders among these creators than among the general population (e.g., see Jamison 1990). Richards et al. (1988) extended this link by showing that measures of ‘everyday,’ or non-eminent, creativity were significantly higher, on average, in manic-depressive and cyclothymic subjects and their normal relatives than in control subjects who did not have a personal or family history of mood disorders. Moreover, both creative artists and patients with mood disorders report that their creativity is significantly enhanced during periods of moderately elevated mood (e.g., Richards and Kinney 1990). These complementary findings suggest that the association between increased creative potential and genetic liability for bipolar disorder may extend not only to the millions of people with bipolar disorder, but also to tens of millions of others who, while not ill themselves, may carry genes for the disorder. 5.3 Implications of Link between Creati
ity and Genes for Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder It is important to determine what maintains the high prevalence of genes for bipolar disorder in the population, despite the high rates of illness and death that are associated with this disorder. One interesting possibility is that genes which increase liability for 13542

bipolar disorder may also be associated with personally and socially beneficial effects, such as increased drive and creativity. The research findings suggesting an association between genes for bipolar disorder and increased creativity are also potentially of great significance in terms of how patients and their families view greater liability for bipolar disorder, as well as for combatting the social stigma that is still often attached to the disorder. Parallel considerations apply in the case of schizophrenia, but perhaps with even greater force, because schizophrenia tends to be an even more chronic and disabling disease, have even lower fertility, and carry an even greater social stigma. As rapid advances in molecular biology and discovery of genetic markers make it possible to detect major genes for schizophrenia (and to identify individuals who carry these genes), it will become increasingly important to know whether such genes are associated with positi
e, as well as negative, behavioral phenotypes or outcomes—and to understand what genetic and\or environmental modifiers affect how these genes are expressed. See also: Behavioral Genetics: Psychological Perspectives; Bipolar Disorder (Including Hypomania and Mania); Depression; Genetic Screening for Disease-related Characteristics; Genetics and Development; Genetics of Complex Traits Through the Life Cycle; Intelligence, Genetics of: Cognitive Abilities; Intelligence, Genetics of: Heritability and Causation; Mental Illness, Etiology of; Mental Illness, Genetics of; Personality Disorders; Schizophrenia, Treatment of

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ity Research 13(1): 17–25 Matthysse S, Kidd K K 1976 Estimating the genetic contribution to schizophrenia. American Journal of Psychiatry 133: 185–91 Maziade M, Martinez M, Cliche D, Fournier J P, Garneau Y, Merette C 1994 Linkage on the 11q21–22 region in a severe form of schizophrenia. American Psychiatric Association Annual Meeting, New Research Programs and Abstracts, p. 97 McGuffin P 1989 Genetic markers: an overview and future perspectives. In: Smeraldi E, Belloni L (eds.) A Genetic Perspecti
e for Schizophrenic and Related Disorders. EdiErmes, Milan Mendlewicz J, Ranier J D 1977 Adoption study supporting genetic transmission of manic-depressive illness. Journal of the American Medical Association 222: 1624–7 Murray R M, Takei N, Sham P, O’Callaghan E, Wright P 1993 Prenatal influenza, genetic susceptibility and schizophrenia. Schizophrenia Research 9(2,3): 137 Pekkarinen P 1998 Genetics of bipolar disorder. Psychiatria Fennica 29: 89–109 Richards R L, Kinney D K 1990 Mood swings and everyday creativity. Creati
ity Research Journal 3: 202–17 Torrey E F 1987 Prevalence studies in schizophrenia. British Journal of Psychiatry 150: 598–608 Torrey E F, Bowler A E, Taylor E H, Gottesman, I I 1994 Schizophrenia and Manic-depressi
e Disorder. Basic Books, New York Trippitelli C L, Jamison K R, Folstein M R, Bartko J J, DePaulo J P 1998 Pilot study on patients’ and spouses’ attitudes toward potential genetic testing for bipolar disorder. American Journal of Psychiatry 155(7): 899–904 Vehmanen L, Katrio J, Lonnqvist J 1995 Twin studies on concordance for bipolar disorder. Clinical Psychiatry and Psychopathology 26: 107–16 Wyatt R J 1991 Neuroleptics and the natural course of schizophrenia. Schizophrenia Bulletin 17: 325–51 Mackinnon D F, Xu J, McMahon F J, Simpson S G, Stine O C, McInnis M G, De Paulo J R 1998 Bipolar disorder and panic disorder in families: an analysis of chromosome 18 data. American Journal of Psychiatry 155(6): 829–31 Kinney D K, Yurgelun-Todd D A, Tramer S J, Holzman P S 1998 Inverse relationship of perinatal complications with eyetracking dysfunction in relatives of patients with schizophrenia: evidence for a two-factor model. American Journal of Psychiatry 155(7): 976–8 Richards R, Kinney D K, Lunde I, Benet M, Merzel A P C 1988 Creativity in manic-depressives, cyclothymes, their normal relatives and control subjects. Journal of Abnormal Psychology. 97(3): 1–8

D. K. Kinney

Schizophrenia: Neuroscience Perspective Schizophrenia is a complex mental illness characterized by acute phases of delusions, hallucinations, and thought disorder, and chronically by apathy, flat affect, and social withdrawal. Schizophrenia affects 1 percent of the world’s population, independent of country or culture, and constitutes a severe public health issue (WHO 1975). Schizophrenic patients normally start to display symptoms in their late teens to early twenties, but the time of onset and the course of the illness are very variable (American Psychiatry Association 1987). Approximately a third of patients experience one acute episode after which they make a more or less full recovery. Another third are affected by the illness throughout their lives, but their symptoms are to some extent alleviated by anti-psychotic drugs. The remaining third are so chronically ill that they show little or no improvement, even with medication (Johnstone 1991).

1. Intellectual Function There is a striking deterioration in intellectual and cognitive function in schizophrenia (e.g., Johnstone 1991). Patients have difficulty in initiating and completing everyday tasks, being distracted easily and tending to give up when confronted by any obstacles. These deficits are similar to the problems in initiation and planning associated with frontal-lobe lesions (Shallice and Burgess 1991). This has led many researchers to suggest that the core deficit of schizophrenia is a failure to activate frontal cortex appropriately during cognitive tasks involving planning and decision making (‘task-related hypofrontality’), a notion supported in part by many functional imaging studies (see below). Schizophrenic patients also show deficits in attention and memory tasks that engage prefrontal, hippocampal, and medial temporal systems, even in drug-free populations (Saykin et al. 1994). In the rest of this entry we shall consider the direct evidence for brain abnormalities in schizophrenia.

2. Post-mortem Neuropathology Studies of post-mortem brains (Harrison 1999) have observed a decrease in overall brain size and have linked schizophrenia to structural abnormalities in the prefrontal cortex and temporal lobe, especially the hippocampus and amygdala. Several studies have found that schizophrenic brains tend to have enlarged lateral ventricles compared to nonschizophrenic brains. Histological studies have shown evidence for 13543

Schizophrenia: Neuroscience Perspecti
e abnormal synaptic appearance in the cingulate and hippocampal pyramidal cells in schizophrenia. The most reproducible positive anatomical finding in postmortem hippocampal formation has been the reduced size of neuronal cell bodies in schizophrenia. However, these changes have not been found in all studies.

3. In Vi
o Studies Of Brain Structure 3.1 Computerized Tomography (CT) Studies The main finding from CT scan studies is that the lateral ventricles are enlarged in schizophrenic patients compared to normal controls (Van Horn and McManus 1992). Although the finding of increased ventricular volume in schizophrenic patients is widespread and replicated, the difference between schizophrenic patients and normal controls is small. Overlap with the normal population is appreciable. Correlation between CT findings and symptoms has been investigated (Lewis 1990). Enlarged ventricles have been associated with chronicity of illness, poor treatment response, and neuropsychological impairment in many, but not all of these studies. 3.2 Magnetic Resonance Imaging (MRI) Studies MRI studies (see Harrison 1999) have tended to confirm the finding of enlarged ventricles in schizophrenic patients, but also permit a more detailed analysis of brain structure. Temporal lobe reductions have been reported, and are especially prominent in the hippocampus, parahippocampal gyrus, and the amygdala, but have not been observed in all studies. Robust relationships between temporal lobe reductions and clinical features have not yet been found. Some studies have found frontal lobe reductions in schizophrenic patients. Reversal or reduction of normal structural cerebral asymmetries may be related to the pathogenesis of schizophrenia (Crow 1995). Various unusual symmetries have been observed consistent with the hypothesis that failure to develop normal asymmetry is an important component of the pathology underlying some forms of schizophrenia. There are some MRI data that provide support for a hypothesis of disconnection between brain areas in schizophrenia. These results support the existence of a relative ‘fronto-temporal dissociation’ in schizophrenia. Evidence for such dissociation has also been obtained in functional imaging studies (see below). All these studies used a ‘regions of interest’ approach in which measurements were restricted to prespecified brain regions. More recently, techniques have been developed in which differences can be detected automatically throughout the brain. Using such techniques, Andreasen et al. (1994) observed decreased thalamus size in schizophrenic patients consistent with observations in post-mortem brains. 13544

4. Functional Imaging 4.1 Resting Studies Using Positron Emission Tomography (PET) More sensitive measures of brain integrity can be obtained by measuring cerebral blood flow in a patient at rest. However, these results are difficult to interpret because the pattern of blood flow may be altered by the current mental state of the patient and by medication. Early studies of this sort observed a relative reduction of blood flow in the frontal lobes of patients with schizophrenia (Ingvar and Franzen 1974). This pattern of activity became known as hypofrontality. However, subsequent studies have not always replicated this observation. Several studies have looked at clinical correlates associated with hypofrontality, but the results are inconsistent. Among features showing a positive relationship with hypofrontality are chronicity, negative symptoms, and neuropsychological task impairment. Relations have also been observed between the pattern of blood flow and the symptomatology of patients at the time of scanning. For example, patients manifesting ‘psychomotor poverty’ showed reduced blood flow in dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (Liddle et al. 1992). 4.2 The Dopamine Hypothesis One of the most robust findings in schizophrenia research has been the observation that drugs which block dopamine receptors are effective in reducing the severity of symptoms such as hallucinations and delusions (Seeman 1986). This led to the dopamine (DA) hypothesis of schizophrenia, which posits that schizophrenia is caused by an overactivity of dopamine receptors (Van Rossum 1966). The best way to investigate the dopamine hypothesis is the in
i
o visualization of radioactive ligand binding to quantify dopamine receptor densities in drug-naive patients using PET. These studies suggest that compared to healthy controls, patients with schizophrenia show a significant but mild increase in, and a larger variability of, D2 receptor density (Laruelle 1998). There is also evidence that D1 receptor density is reduced in the prefrontal cortex of schizophrenic patients (Okubo et al. 1997).

5. Cogniti
e Acti
ation Studies Functional neuroimaging experiments generally evaluate brain activity associated with performance of cognitive or sensori-motor tasks. Cognitive activation studies have provided further evidence for decreased frontal activity (‘hypofrontality’) in schizophrenia. In addition, there is increasing evidence that schizophrenics show abnormal integration between the

Schizophrenia: Neuroscience Perspecti
e frontal cortex and other brain regions, including the temporal lobes, the parietal lobes, and hippocampus, during cognitive tasks. 5.1 Task-based Studies of Executi
e Function Schizophrenia is characterized largely by impairments in planning and execution, and therefore tasks that involve this kind of planning and modification of behavior have been exploited in the scanner. Several studies have found that schizophrenic patients show reduced activity in the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (DLPFC) while performing the Wisconsin card sorting task, a popular test of planning. In addition to decreased DLPFC activity, schizophrenic patients also showed abnormal responses in the temporal lobes and parahippocampal gyrus (Ragland et al. 1998). The results suggest that schizophrenia may involve a breakdown in the integration between the frontal and temporal cortex, which is necessary for executive and planning demands in healthy individuals. This interpretation moves away from the simple notion that dysfunction in isolated brain regions, explains the cognitive deficits in schizophrenia, and towards the idea that neural abnormality in schizophrenia reflects a disruption of integration between brain areas. 5.2 Willed Action Willed actions are self-generated in the sense that the subject makes a deliberate and free choice to perform one action rather than another. Willed actions are a fundamental component of executive tasks. In normal subjects, willed actions are associated with increased blood flow in the DLPFC. Schizophrenic patients, especially those with negative signs, have difficulty with tasks involving free choices, and show an associated lack of activity in DLPFC. Activity in this region normalizes as the symptoms decrease (Spence et al. 1998). This suggests that hypofrontality depends on current symptoms. Studies of willed action also suggest that the underactivity in DLPFC observed in some schizophrenic patients is accompanied by overactivity in posterior brain regions. There is evidence of a lack of the normal reciprocal interaction between the frontal and the superior temporal cortex in schizophrenia, which supports the notion of impaired functional integration (McGuire and Frith 1996). 5.3 Memory Tasks Memory impairments are an especially enduring feature of schizophrenia. Functional neuroimaging studies of memory have demonstrated hypofrontality, abnormal interaction between temporal and frontal cortex, and a dysfunctional cortico-cerebellar circuit in schizophrenic patients compared to control subjects.

The hippocampus is a brain structure that is well known to be involved in memory. Evidence for impaired hippocampal function in schizophrenia was found in a well-controlled functional imaging study (Heckers et al. 1998). In this study, schizophrenic patients failed to recruit the hippocampus during successful retrieval, unlike normal control subjects. The schizophrenic patients also showed a more widespread activation of prefrontal areas and parietal cortex during recollection than did controls. The authors propose that this overactivation represents an ‘effort to compensate for the failed recruitment of the hippocampus.’ This result supports the idea that neural abnormality in schizophrenia reflects a disruption of integration between brain areas. Fletcher et al. (1999) also found evidence for abnormal integration between brain areas in schizophrenia during the performance of a memory task. They demonstrated an abnormality in the way in which left prefrontal cortex influenced activity in left superior temporal cortex, and suggested that this abnormality was due to a failure of the anterior cingulate cortex to modulate the prefronto-temporal relationship.

6. Imaging Symptoms Functional neuroimaging is also useful for evaluating neural activity in patients experiencing specific psychotic symptoms, such as hallucinations and passivity. 6.1 Hallucinations Hallucinations, perceptions in the absence of external stimuli, are prominent among symptoms of schizophrenia. Functional neuroimaging studies of auditory hallucinations suggest that they involve neural systems dedicated to auditory speech processing as well as a distributed network of other cortical and subcortical areas (Dierks et al. 1999). There is also evidence that the activity associated with auditory hallucinations resembles that seen when normal subjects are using inner speech (McGuire et al. 1996). 6.2 Passi
ity Passivity symptoms, or delusions of control, in which patients claim that their actions and speech are being controlled by an external agent, are common in schizophrenia. Schizophrenic patients with passivity showed hyperactivation of inferior parietal lobe (BA 40), the cerebellum, and the cingulate cortex relative to schizophrenic patients without passivity and to normal controls. When patients no longer experienced passivity symptoms, a reversal of the hyperactivation of parietal lobe and cingulate was seen (Spence et al. 1997). Hyperactivity in parietal cortex may reflect the ‘unexpected’ nature of the 13545

Schizophrenia: Neuroscience Perspecti
e movement experienced by patients. The movement feels as though it is being caused by an external force (Frith et al. 2000).

7. Conclusions There is considerable evidence for structural abnormalities in the brains of patients with schizophrenia, but the abnormalities identified so far are not specific to this disorder, are very variable and cannot easily be related to the symptoms. The neurotransmitter dopamine is clearly important in schizophrenia, but its precise role remains unclear. Studies of brain function are still at an early stage, but suggest that schizophrenia may be characterized by disorders of connectivity between cortical and subcortical regions. Some of the symptoms of schizophrenia can be understood in terms of these disconnections. Current advances in imaging techniques aimed at measuring connectivity in the brain are likely to have a major impact on our understanding of schizophrenia. See also: Mental Illness, Epidemiology of; Mental Illness, Etiology of; Mental Illness, Genetics of; Psychiatric Assessment: Negative Symptoms; Schizophrenia; Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder: Genetic Aspects; Schizophrenia, Treatment of

Bibliography American Psychiatry Association 1987 Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-III-R), 3rd edn. American Psychiatry Association, Washington, DC Andreasen N C, Arndt S, Swayze V II, Cizadlo T, Flaum M, O’Leary D S, Ehrhardt J C, Yuh W T 1994 Thalamic abnormalities in schizophrenia visualised through magnetic resonance image averaging. Science 266: 294–8 Crow T J 1995 Aetiology of schizophrenia: An evolutionary theory. International Clinical Psychopharmacology 10 (Suppl. 3): 49–56 Dierks T, Linden D E J, Jandi M, Formisano E, Goebel R, Lanfermann H, Singer W 1999 Activation of Heschl’s gyrus during auditory hallucinations. Neuron 22: 615–21 Fletcher P C, McKenna P J, Friston K J, Frith C D, Dolan R J 1999 Abnormal cingulate modulation of fronto-temporal connectivity in schizophrenia. NeuroImage 9: 337–42 Frith C D, Blakemore S-J, Wolpert D M 2000 Explaining the symptoms of schizophrenia: Abnormalities in the awareness of action. Brain Research Re
iews 31: 357–63 Harrison P J 1999 The neuropathology of schizophrenia. Brain 122: 593–624 Heckers S, Rauch S L, Goff D, Savage C R, Schacter D R, Fischmaer A J, Alpert N A 1998 Impaired recruitment of the hippocampus during conscious recollection in schizophrenia. Nature Neuroscience 4: 318–23 Ingvar D H, Franzen G 1974 Distribution of cerebral activity in chronic schizophrenia. Lancet 2: 1484–86 Johnstone E C 1991 Defining characteristics of schizophrenia. British Journal of Psychiatry Supplement 13: 5–6 Laruelle M 1998 Imaging dopamine transmission in schizophrenia. A review and meta-analysis. Quarterly Journal of Nuclear Medicine 42: 211–21

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Lewis S W 1990 Computerised tomography in schizophrenia 15 years on. British Journal of Psychiatry Supplement. 9: 16–24 Liddle P F, Friston K J, Frith C D, Frackowiak R S 1992 Cerebral blood flow and mental processes in schizophrenia. Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine 85: 224–7 McGuire P K, Frith C D 1996 Disordered functional connectivity in schizophrenia. Psychological Medicine 26: 663–7 McGuire P K, Silbersweig D A, Wright I, Murray R M, Frackowiak R S, Frith C D 1996 The neural correlates of inner speech and auditory verbal imagery in schizophrenia: Relationship to auditory verbal hallucinations. British Journal of Psychiatry 169: 148–59 Okubo Y, Suhara T, Suzuki K, Kobayashi K, Inoue O, Terasaki O, Someya Y, Sassa T, Sudo Y, Matsushima E, Iyo M, Tateno Y, Toru M 1997 Decreased prefrontal dopamine D1 receptors in schizophrenia revealed by PET. Nature 385: 634–6 Ragland J D, Gur R C, Glahn D C, Censits D M, Smith R J, Lazarev M G, Alavi A, Gur R E 1998 Frontotemporal cerebral blood flow change during executive and declarative memory tasks in schizophrenia: A positron emission tomography study. Neuropsychology 12: 399–413 Saykin A J, Shtasel D L, Gur R E, Kester D B, Mozley L H, Stafiniak P, Gur R C 1994 Neuropsychological deficits in neuroleptic naive patients with first-episode schizophrenia. Archi
es of General Psychiatry 51: 124–31 Seeman P 1986 Dopamine\neuroleptic receptors in schizophrenia. In: Burrows G D, Norman T R, Rubenstein G (eds.) Handbook on Studies of Schizophrenia, Part 2. Elsevier, Amsterdam Shallice T, Burgess P W 1991 Deficits in strategy application following frontal lobe damage in man. Brain 114: 727–41 Spence S A, Brooks D J, Hirsch S R, Liddle P F, Meehan J, Grasby P M 1997 A PET study of voluntary movement in schizophrenic patients experiencing passivity phenomena (delusions of alien control). Brain 120: 1997–2011 Spence S A, Hirsch S R, Brooks D J, Grasby P M 1998 Prefrontal cortex activity in people with schizophrenia and control subjects. Evidence from positron emission tomography for remission of ‘hypofrontality’ with recovery from acute schizophrenia. British Journal of Psychiatry 172: 316–23 Van Horn J D, McManus I C 1992 Ventricular enlargement in schizophrenia. A meta-analysis of studies of the ventricle:brain ratio. British Journal of Psychiatry 160: 687–97 Van Rossum J M 1966 The significance of dopamine receptor blockade for the mechanism of action of neuroleptic drugs. Archi
es Internationales de Pharmacodynamie et de Therapie 160: 492–94 World Health Organization 1975 Schizophrenia: A Multinational Study. WHO, Geneva, Switzerland

C. D. Frith and S-J Blakemore

Schizophrenia, Treatment of Schizophrenia is a brain disorder of unknown origin which severely deteriorates numerous complex functions of the central nervous system (CNS) including thought, emotion, perception, cognition, and behavior. Schizophrenia is one of the most debilitating psychiatric disorders. Due to the high lifetime prevalence (about 1.5 percent), the typical onset in early adulthood, and the strong tendency towards a chronic

Schizophrenia, Treatment of course, the disorder requires a very high degree of health care provisions. About one-quarter of hospital beds are occupied by schizophrenic patients, and the total costs of treatment are enormous (e.g., US$50 billion per year in the United States). Although there is no cure for schizophrenia, the combined administration of pharmacological and psychosocial interventions considerably improves outcome, enhances quality of life in the patients affected, and enables social integration to a large extent.

1. Causes and Pathophysiology of Schizophrenia The causes of schizophrenia are unknown so far. Therefore, the term ‘schizophrenia’ refers to an empirically defined syndrome characterized by a combination of certain symptoms which occur in a particular temporal pattern. The idea that schizophrenia is a distinct brain disorder is rooted in Emil Kraepelin’s concept of dementia praecox (Kraepelin 1893). This concept emphasized one particular aspect of the disorder: the onset of persistent cognitive disturbances early in life. The term ‘schizophrenia’ was coined by Eugen Bleuler (1916), who wanted to emphasize the loss of coherence between thought, emotion, and behavior which represents another important feature of the disorder. Bleuler actually spoke about ‘schizophrenias,’ implying a group of diseases rather than one distinct disease entity. The present diagnostic systems compiled by the World Health Organization (ICD-10 1992) and the American Psychiatric Association (DSM-IV 1994) distinguish various subtypes of schizophrenia (see Table 1) which are classified according to particular symptom combinations, and according to certain aspects of the course and prognosis of the disease. However, these subtypes are defined in a phenomenological manner which neither implies distinct causes for any of the subtypes nor any particular treatment. Although we do not know individual causes of schizophrenia, we know that the basis for the disorder is an interaction between genetic susceptibility factors and environmental components. According to numerous genetic studies the estimates of hereditability converge to about 80 percent (Owen and Cardno 1999). However, although linkage studies have yielded

evidence for a number of susceptibility loci on various chromosomes, neither a single gene nor a combination of genes have been discovered so far which are definitively involved. Similarly, a number of environmental factors (e.g., birth and pregnancy complications, viral infections) are likely to play a role, but details of this role remain to be established. Although the symptoms of schizophrenia clearly demonstrate a severe disturbance of brain functions, only subtle alterations of brain morphology have been detected. The most stable finding is a slight enlargement of brain ventricles. Recent sophisticated studies combining morphological and functional brain imaging have been suggested to indicate that subtle structural or functional lesions particularly in prefrontal and limbic neural circuits impair the integrity of these circuits (Andreasen et al. 1998). Although it is still a matter of debate whether these lesions are due to a neurodevelopmental or a neurodegenerative process (Lieberman 1999), it is clear that disturbed functioning of neuronal circuits goes along with altered neurotransmission. Dopamine, serotonin, and glutamate are the neurotransmitters most frequently implicated in the pathophysiology of schizophrenia. However, it is still not clear whether disturbed neurotransmission is the cause or the consequence of the major disease process. Due to this scantiness of etiological and pathophysiological knowledge, the treatment of patients suffering from schizophrenia is based exclusively on empirical clinical knowledge. As outlined in detail below, the treatment approach is multimodal and based on the symptom patterns present in any individual patient (see Mental Illness, Etiology of ).

2. Symptoms of Schizophrenia—the Targets for Treatment Schizophrenia affects almost all areas of complex brain functions, and thought, perception, emotion, cognition, and behavior in particular. There have been numerous approaches to systematize the plethora of symptoms according to a variety of theoretical concepts. One widely accepted concept is the distinction between positive and negative symptoms (Andreasen

Table 1 Subtypes of schizophrenia according to the major classification systems ICD-10 Paranoid schizophrenia Catatonic schizophrenia Undifferentiated schizophrenia Residual schizophrenia Hebephrenic schizophrenia — Simple schizophrenia

[DSM-IV] Schizophrenia, paranoid type Schizophrenia, catatonic type Schizophrenia, undifferentiated type Schizophrenia, residual type — Schizophrenia, disorganized type —

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Schizophrenia, Treatment of Table 2 Positive and negative symptoms of schizophrenia. Areas of symptoms are listed and selected examples appear in parentheses Positive symptoms Hallucinations (auditory, somato-tactile,
isual, olfactory) Delusions ( persecutory, religious, thought broadcasting, thought insertion) Bizarre behavior (unusual clothing or appearance, repetiti
e, stereotyped beha
ior) Positive formal thought disorders (incoherence, illogicality, tangentiality) Negative symptoms Affective flattening (unchanging facial expression, paucity of expressi
e gestures) Alogia ( po
erty of speech, increased response latency) Avolition-apathy ( physical anergia, problems with personal hygiene) Anhedonia-asociality (reduction in social acti
ities, sexual interest, closeness) Attention (social inattenti
eness, inattenti
eness during testing)

et al. 1995, Table 2) (see Psychiatric Assessment: Negati
e Symptoms). This approach groups symptoms according to whether they represent a loss of or a deficiency in a normal brain function (negative symptoms) or the appearance of abnormal phenomena (positive symptoms). From the perspective of treatment the positive–negative dichotomy is of importance because these two domains react somewhat differently to treatment. In general, positive symptoms respond fairly well to treatment with antipsychotic drugs, whereas negative symptoms are rather difficult to influence. The latter is particularly problematic, because negative symptoms are usually the limiting factor for personal and social rehabilitation. In addition to the typical symptoms, patients suffering from schizophrenia often present numerous other psychiatric problems. Among these, anxiety, sleep disturbances, obsessions and compulsions, depression and drug or substance abuse are particularly frequent. Although these additional symptoms and problems may in many cases be the consequence of the typical symptoms rather than signs of independent additional psychiatric disorders, they complicate the course of the disease and often necessitate specific treatment approaches. The course of schizophrenia varies considerably between patients. Typically, the disease begins during early adulthood with the appearance of rather unspecific negative symptoms resulting in social withdrawal and impaired social and scholastic adjustment. Months to years later positive symptoms such as delusions and hallucinations appear either gradually or abruptly. Across time, positive symptoms tend to show an episodic course, whereas negative symptoms either remain quite stable or even progress. The associated psychiatric problems mentioned above do not show any systematic temporal relationship to the course of schizophrenia itself. Since the syndrome of schizophrenia has been defined, data on the final outcome have varied considerably, depending mainly on the diagnostic concepts applied. There is no doubt that full remission occurs, but probably in less than 20 13548

percent of patients. In the majority of patients schizophrenia takes a chronic course (Schultz and Andreasen 1999). The major benefit from modern treatment strategies is probably not a substantial increase in the rate of full remissions, but a significant reduction in the number of extremely ill patients, and in the severity and number of episodes characterized by prominent positive symptoms.

3. The Principles of Treatment Treatment of schizophrenia is usually multimodal and comprises approaches from two major areas, which are drug treatment and psychosocial interventions. In general, appropriate drug treatment is a prerequisite for the ability of the patients to comply with and actively take part in psychosocial treatments. The more effective drug treatment is, the more specialized and sophisticated psychosocial interventions can be successfully applied. Vice versa, appropriate psychosocial treatment considerably improves the compliance with drug treatment, because it enhances insight into the disease process, which initially is poor in many patients suffering from schizophrenia. Antipsychotic drugs (also called neuroleptics) are the most important and most effective therapeutic weapon. The major targets of these drugs are positive symptoms, although newer substances might also reduce negative symptoms to some extent (see below). Treatment with antipsychotic drugs is usually a longterm treatment, whereas drugs to control accessory symptoms (anxiolytics, hypnotics, and antidepressants) are prescribed intermittently when needed. The use of electroconvulsive therapy was widespread before antipsychotic drugs were available, but today is very limited, although this treatment is effective in certain conditions (Fink and Sackeim 1996). Among the psychosocial interventions, supportive and psychoeducative approaches are feasible for the majority of patients, whereas structured social skill training, family therapy, or complex programs in-

Schizophrenia, Treatment of cluding cognitive-behavioral therapies require a considerable degree of insight and compliance. Although recent psychosocial treatment approaches incorporate also psychodynamic aspects, classical psychodynamic psychotherapy, in general, is not effective and sometimes even counterproductive. Prior to the discovery of antipsychotic drugs, most schizophrenic patients had been hospitalized for decades or even for their entire life. Today, very differentiated treatment facilities are available, which to a large extent are community based. These include, besides classical hospitals and outpatient departments, short-term crisis intervention facilities, day-time clinics, and supported living facilities. This network of facilities considerably increases the chance for social integration and reduces the time spent overall in hospitals. However, recent aggressive approaches to shorten the duration of hospital stays dramatically might lead to a high frequency of rehospitalization, poor long-term outcome, and an overall increase in the costs of treatment. An important limiting factor for all treatment approaches is the patients’ compliance. In particular in severely ill patients compliance is often poor. In schizophrenia noncompliance is particularly due to a lack of insight into the fact of being ill, reduced ability to actively take part in the treatment process due to negative symptoms, or active avoidance of treatment due to positive symptoms such as delusions or imperative voices. To enable stable treatment compliance in patients suffering from schizophrenia, a confidential and empathetic attitude of the people involved is an important prerequisite.

4. Particular Aspects of Treatment 4.1 Pharmacotherapy The introduction of chlorpromazine into clinical practice in 1952 is the hallmark of the pharmacological treatment of schizophrenia (Delay and Deniker 1952). Chemically, chlorpromazine is a phenothiazine and other substances of this group also possess antipsychotic properties. In the 1950s and 1960s, numerous antipsychotic drugs with different structures (in particular butyrophenones [e.g., haloperidol] and thio-

xanthenes [e.g., flupentixol]) were developed. Despite this diversity in chemical structure, these first-generation drugs do not differ qualitatively with respect to their profile of beneficial and undesired effects. They target mainly the positive symptoms of schizophrenia mentioned in Table 2 without preferentially affecting one or the other of these symptoms. Their effectiveness does not depend on the subtype of schizophrenia (see Table 1). The common mode of action of the first-generation antipsychotics is believed to be blockade of the D2 subtype of dopamine receptors (Pickar 1995). Blockade of these receptors in the mesolimbic dopamine system is thought to cause a reduction in positive symptoms, and blockade in the nigrostriatal dopamine system is believed to be responsible for the typical side effects of these drugs. These are severe disturbances of motor behavior caused by a drug-induced dysfunction of the dopaminergic extrapyramidal system, which plays a pivotal role in the control of movements. Table 3 summarizes these extrapyramidal syndromes. Those which occur acutely are often very disturbing, but respond fairly well to treatment (e.g., acute dystonia to anticholinergic drugs), or at least cease upon drug discontinuation or dose reduction. Tardive extrapyramidal syndromes, however, are frequent (5–10 percent on long-term treatment with first-generation antipsychotics), often resistant to treatment approaches, and they usually persist if the antipsychotic drug is stopped. Another severe side effect of unknown cause, which might be related to the extrapyramidal system, is the neuroleptic malignant syndrome (Pelonero et al. 1998; see also Sect. 4.3). Extrapyramidal side effects are common to all first-generation drugs, whereas other, less specific side effects (e.g., sedation, weight gain, postural hypotension) occur with some but not all substances (see Psychopharmacotherapy: Side Effects). Due to the central role attributed to D2 dopamine receptor blockade, it has been thought for a long time that antipsychotic effectiveness and extrapyramidal syndromes are inevitably linked to each other. However, in the late 1960s it turned out that the dibenzodiazepine clozapine is a potent antipsychotic drug that almost never induces extrapyramidal symptoms and is effective in a proportion of otherwise treatmentresistant patients (Angst et al. 1971). Moreover, it was

Table 3 Extrapyramidal syndromes induced by first-generation antipsychotic drugs. Acute (within days) Drug-induced Parkinsonism (bradykinesia, increased muscular tone, tremor) Dystonia (sudden-onset, sustained muscular contractions preferably in the cephalic musculature) Akathisia (internal restlessness and urge to mo
e, often coupled with pacing beha
ior)

[Late or tardive (within months to years)] Tardive dyskinesia or dystonia (irregular choreiform, or dystonic mo
ements in any
oluntary muscle group) Tardive tics (repetiti
e, short-lasting, stereotyped mo
ements or other kind of beha
ior [e.g.,
ocalization]) Tardive myoclonus (brief asynchronous mo
ements which are not stereotyped)

13549

Schizophrenia, Treatment of shown that clozapine not only improves positive but to some extent also negative symptoms. Therefore, the introduction of clozapine into clinical practice was the first qualitative advance after the discovery of chlorpromazine, and it is justified to call this substance a second-generation antipsychotic drug. Unfortunately it turned out quickly that clozapine has a very particular and important drawback: it induces lifethreatening agranulocytosis in about one percent of patients treated (Baldessarini and Frankenburg 1991). Therefore, the use of this drug is only possible when white blood cell counts are monitored in short intervals. It is still not known why clozapine is a potent antipsychotic drug, but lacks extrapyramidal side effects. Among the possible reasons are that clozapine affects mainly the mesolimbic dopamine system, that it blocks D1 receptors to the same extent as D2 receptors, that it has a high affinity to D4 receptors, and that it also has high affinity to serotonin receptors. This theoretical framework was the basis for the development of various second-generation antipsychotics (see Table 4). Most of them have high affinities for serotonin receptors, although only one substance (olanzapine) is similar to clozapine in the equivalent binding to D1 and D2 receptors. So far there is no indication that any of these newer drugs carries a substantial risk of agranulocytosis, the most dangerous side effect of clozapine. Moreover, these substances have shown to be effective when compared to first-generation antipsychotic drugs and indeed to induce fewer extrapyramidal side effects. For two of them (olanzapine and risperidone) there are data suggesting that they also might ameliorate negative symptoms. However, it still remains to be seen how the effectiveness of these newer drugs compares to clozapine. Treatment with antipsychotic drugs in schizophrenic patients is usually a long-term treatment continuing for many years. Intermittently, patients may need additional other psychotropic medications. Most frequently anxiolytics, hypnotics, and antidepressants are administered. The recognition and treatment of intervening depressive episodes is particularly important because depressive and negative symptoms are sometimes difficult to differentiate, but need different treatment. When administering antidepressant drugs to schizophrenic patients, one should be aware that during treatment with antidepressants positive symptoms sometimes exacerbate. 4.2 Psychosocial Treatment It is now generally accepted that psychosocial treatment of patients with schizophrenia is not an alternative to pharmacological treatment, but rather an important complementary approach (Bustillo et al. 2000). Psychosocial measures yield little benefit for positive symptoms; in contrast, intensive psycho13550

dynamic psychotherapy might induce exacerbations. The most important and successful interventions are psychoeducative teaching and training in social skills and problem solving. Although it is still debated whether these treatments are directly effective against negative symptoms, there is no doubt that they considerably improve coping with these symptoms. The major goal of educational approaches is to increase the knowledge about and the insight into the disease process and, as a consequence, to improve treatment compliance. Educational programs are focused on knowledge about the disease process and it’s course, the mode of action and side effects of medication, early signs of exacerbation such as restlessness and insomnia, and detailed information about the various community based or hospital facilities available. These programs are particularly effective when important family members are educated as well. Moreover, approaches to improve the communication styles within the patient’s network of social relationships are often useful, although the concept that particular forms of communication (‘high expressed emotions’) play a causative role in schizophrenia has been seriously challenged. Schizophrenic patients’ social skills are often poor. This is one major reason for the often dramatically reduced amount of social contacts. Training of social skills in patients suffering from schizophrenia is performed in a group setting. Such groups are focused on the repetitive training of behavior in various social situations of importance for everyday life. In addition, some rather basic teaching of the theoretical background of successful social interaction might be included. Impaired problem solving in schizophrenic patients is due to a combination of disturbances in divided attention, planning, and motivation. Problem solving training includes the analysis of problems relevant to daily life and, particularly, dividing a problem into subproblems that can be successively solved. Similar to the training of social skills, the steps of the solution are practiced repeatedly. In recent years, more complex psychotherapeutic approaches have been developed, combining cognitive, behavioral, or psychodynamic approaches, which, however, are suitable for the minority of patients only. In particular for chronic patients who in earlier times often were hospitalized for decades, providing supervised residential living arrangements has proven to be of considerable benefit because in this setting the degree of self-sustainment can be maximized in parallel with the permanent provision of professional help. 4.3 Emergency Treatment Schizophrenia is not only a debilitating but also a lifethreatening disorder. If severe positive symptoms are present, such as verbal imperative hallucinations,

Schizophrenia, Treatment of Table 4 Relative receptor affinities of selected newer antipsychotic compounds compared to the first-generation drug haloperidol. [Dopamine]

Haloperidola Clozapine Risperidone Olanzapine Seroquel Sertindole Ziprasidone

D " jjj jj jj jjj j jjj j

D # jjjj jj jjjj jjj jj jjjjj jjjj

[Serotonin] 5HT " .. j jj .. .. jj *

5HT α #

[Noradrenaline]

j jjj jjjjj jjj j jjjj jjjj

α " jj jjj jjj jjj jjjj jjj jj

A

#

.. jjj jjj .. j .. ..

Histamine Acetylcholine H M " " .. .. jjjj jjjjj jj .. jjjj jjjjj jjjj jjj j j j ..

Adapted from Pickar, 1995 a Prototype first generation antipsychotic drug

delusions of persecution, or severe formal thought disturbances, the patient’s life is threatened by a misinterpretation of his or her environment (e.g., of dangerous objects or situations) and by suicidal intentions. Suicidality can also emerge when negative symptoms are prominent. Acute suicidality and an acute confusional psychotic state both necessitate immediate treatment, including the administration of anxiolytics, antipsychotics, or both, preferably in a hospital setting. Although every effort should be undertaken to get the informed consent of the patient, it is often necessary to initiate treatment against his or her explicit will. This has to be done in accordance with the legal regulations in the respective country. Less frequently occurring life-threatening situations in patients suffering from schizophrenia are febrile catatonia and the neuroleptic malignant syndrome, a rare side effect of antipsychotic drugs (Pelonero et al. 1998). Both conditions show similarities, including fever, disturbances of motor behavior, and reduced responsiveness to external stimuli. The differential diagnosis is difficult, but very important because in febrile catatonia treatment with antipsychotic drugs is necessary, whereas such treatment has to be immediately stopped when a neuroleptic malignant syndrome is suspected. In both of these conditions admission to an intensive care unit is necessary.

5. Future Perspecti
es on the Treatment of Schizophrenia Despite the rapid development of the knowledge about human genetics, it is unlikely that we will see a major advance in our understanding of the genetic causes of schizophrenia in the near future. The reason is that the available epidemiological data render a major contribution of single genes quite unlikely and suggest that multiple genes contribute to the susceptibility to schizophrenia. However, it is likely that genetic investigations will improve the management of schizophrenia by enabling prediction of the treatment response to antipsychotic drugs. Very recently, for

example, it has been shown that a combination of six polymorphisms in neurotransmitter-receptor-related genes enable a significant prediction of the treatment response to clozapine (Arranz et al. 2000). Although these preliminary studies must be replicated and extended to other drugs, it is probable that this approach will significantly enhance the success of drug treatment in schizophrenia. It is also likely that the near future will bring new drugs which are the result of a ‘fine-tuning’ of the chemical structure and the binding profile to dopamine and serotonin receptors of those substances which are presently available. Another approach which is currently being pursued is to target glutamate receptors, although first clinical trials are only in part encouraging (Farber et al. 1999). Based on a theory implicating the immune system in the pathophysiology of schizophrenia, studies are being started that use immunomodulation as a treatment. This is an interesting and promising approach, which also might help to understand the mode of action of presently available antipsychotic drugs because some of them influence the production of cytokines which are important immune mediators (Pollma$ cher et al. in press). Another approach based on pathophysiological theories is to target phospholipids. These are an important cell-membrane component and there is some evidence suggesting that either their uptake is deficient or that they are excessively broken down in schizophrenic patients (Horrobin 1999). See also: Nosology in Psychiatry

Bibliography American Psychiatric Association 1994 Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. American Psychiatric Association, Washington, DC Andreasen N C, Arndt S, Alliger R, Miller D, Flaum M 1995 Symptoms of schizophrenia. Methods, meanings, and mechanisms. Archi
es of General Psychiatry 52: 341–51

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Schizophrenia, Treatment of Andreasen N C, Paradiso S, O’Leary D S 1998 ‘‘Cognitive dysmetria’’ as an integrative theory of schizophrenia: a dysfunction in cortical-subcortical-cerebellar circuitry? Schizophrenia Bulletin 24: 203–18 Angst J, Bente D, Berner P, Heimann H, Helmchen H, Hippius H 1971 Das klinische Wirkungsbild von Clozapin. Pharmakopsychiatrie 4: 201–11 Arranz M J, Munro J, Birkett J, Bolonna A, Mancama D, Sodhi M, Lesch K P, Meyer J F, Sham P, Collier D A, Murray R M, Kerwin R W 2000 Pharmacogenetic prediction of clozapine response. Lancet 355: 1615–16 Baldessarini R J, Frankenburg F R 1991 Drug therapy – Clozapine. A novel antipsychotic agent. New England Journal of Medicine 324: 746–54 Bustillo J, Keith S J, Lauriello J 2000 Schizophrenia: psychosocial treatment. In: Sadock B J, Sadock V A (eds.) Kaplan & Sadock’s Comprehensi
e Textbook of Psychiatry. 7th edn. Lippincott Williams and Wilkins, Baltimore, MD, pp. 1210–7 Delay J, Deniker P 1952 38 cas de psychoses traite! es par la cure prolonge! e et continue de 4560 R.P. Annales me! dicopsychologique 110: 364–741 Farber N B, Newcomer J W, Olney J W 1999 Glycine agonists: what can they teach us about schizophrenia? Archi
es of General Psychiatry 56: 13–17 Fink M, Sackeim H A 1996 Convulsive therapy in schizophrenia? Schizophrenia Bulletin 22: 27–39 Horrobin D F 1999 Lipid metabolism, human evolution and schizophrenia. Prostaglandins Leukotrienes and Essential Fatty Acids 60: 431–7 Kraepelin E 1910 Psychiatrie. Ein Lehrbuch fa` r Studierende und An rzte. 8 Auflage. Barth, Leipzig Lieberman J A 1999 Is schizophrenia a neurodegenerative disorder? A clinical and neurobiological perspective. Biological Psychiatry 46: 729–39 Owen M J, Cardno A G 1999 Psychiatric genetics: progress, problems, and potential. Lancet 354 (Suppl. 1): SI11–14 Pelonero A L, Levenson J L, Pandurangi A K 1998 Neuroleptic malignant syndrome: a review. Psychiatric Ser
ices 49: 1163–72 Pickar D 1995 Prospects for pharmacotherapy of schizophrenia. Lancet 345: 557–62 Pollma$ cher T, Haack M, Schuld A, Kraus T, Hinze-Selch D in press Effects of antipsychotic drugs on cytokine networks. Journal of Psychiatric Research Schultz S K, Andreasen N C 1999 Schizophrenia. Lancet 353: 1425–30 World Health Organization 1996 International Statistical Classification of Diseases. World Health Organization, Geneva, Switzerland

during the last decade (see also School Outcomes: Cogniti
e Function, Achie
ements, Social Skills, and Values). In particular, large-scale projects like TIMSS (Third International Mathematics and Science Study) (Beaton et al. 1996) had a strong and enduring impact on educational policy as well as on educational research and have also raised the public interest in scholastic achievement.

1. School Achie
ement and its Determinants: An O
er
iew SA can be characterized as cognitive learning outcomes which are products of instruction or aimed at by instruction within a school context. Cognitive outcomes mainly comprise procedural and declarative knowledge but also problem-solving skills and strategies. The following facets, features, and dimensions of SA, most of which are self-explaining, can be distinguished: (a) episodic vs. cumulative; (b) general\global vs. domain-specific; (c) referring to different parts of a given subject (in a foreign language e.g., spelling, reading, writing, communicating, or from the competency perspective, grammatical, lexical, phonological, and orthographical); (d) test-based vs. teacher-rated; (e) performance-related vs. competence-related; (f) actual versus potential (what one could achieve, given optimal support); (g) different levels of aggregation (school, classroom, individual level); (h) curriculum-based vs. cross-curricular or extracurricular. Figure 1 shows a theoretical model that represents central determinants of SA. Cognitive and motivational determinants are embedded in a complex system of individual, parental, and school-related determinants and depend on the given social, classroom, and cultural context. According to this model, cognitive and motivational aptitudes have a direct impact on learning and SA, whereas the impact of the other determinants in the model on SA is only indirect.

T. Pollma$ cher

School Achievement: Cognitive and Motivational Determinants Although the analysis of school achievement (SA)—its structure, determinants, correlates, and consequences—has always been a major issue of educational psychology, interest in achievement as a central outcome of schooling has considerably increased 13552

Figure 1 Interplay of individual cognitive and motivational and other determinants of SA

School Achie
ement: Cogniti
e and Moti
ational Determinants

2. Cogniti
e Determinants 2.1 Intelligence Intelligence (see Intelligence, Prior Knowledge, and Learning) is certainly one of the most important determinants of SA. Most definitions of intelligence refer to abstract thinking, ability to learn, and problem solving, and emphasize the ability to adapt to novel situations and tasks. There are different theoretical perspectives, for example Piagetian and neo-Piagetian approaches, information-processing approaches, component models, contextual approaches, and newer integrative conceptions such as Sternberg’s triarchic theory of intelligence, or Gardner’s model of multiple intelligences. Among them, the traditional psychometric approach is the basis for the study of individual differences. In this approach quantitative test scores are analyzed by statistical methods such as factor analysis to identify dimensions or factors underlying test performance (Sternberg and Kaufman 1998). Several factor theories have been proposed ranging from a general-factor model to various multiple-factor models. One of the most significant contributions has been a hierarchical model based on second-order factors that distinguishes between fluid and crystallized abilities. Fluid intelligence refers to basic knowledge-free information-processing capacity such as detecting relations within figural material, whereas crystallized intelligence reflects influences of acculturation such as verbal knowledge and learned strategies. Fluid and crystallized abilities can both be seen as representing general intelligence as some versions of a complete hierarchical model would suggest (see Gustafsson and Undheim 1996). Substantial correlations (the size of the correlations differ from r l 0.50 to r l 0.60) between general intelligence and SA have been reported in many studies. That is, more than 25 percent of variance in post-test scores are accounted for by intelligence, depending on student age, achievement criteria, or time interval between measurement of intelligence and SA. General intelligence, especially fluid reasoning abilities, can be seen as a measure of flexible adaptation of strategies in novel situations and complex tasks which put heavy demands and processing loads on problem solvers. The close correlation between intelligence and SA has formed the basis for the popular paradigm of underachievement and overachievement: Students whose academic achievement performance is lower than predicted on the basis of their level of intelligence are characterized as underachievers; in the reverse case as overachievers. This concept, however, has been criticized as it focuses on intelligence as the sole predictor of SA although SA is obviously determined by many other individual as well as instructional variables. Intelligence is related to quality of instruction. Low

instructional quality forces students to fill in gaps for themselves, detect relations, infer key concepts, and develop their own strategies. On the whole, more intelligent students are able to recognize solutionrelevant rules and to solve problems more quickly and more efficiently. Additionally, it is just that ability that helps them to acquire a rich knowledge base which is ‘more intelligently’ organized and more flexibly utilizable and so has an important impact on following learning processes. Accordingly, intelligence is often more or less equated with learning ability (see Gustafsson and Undheim 1996). Beyond general intelligence, specific cognitive abilities do not seem to have much differential predictive power, although there is occasional evidence for a separate contribution of specific abilities (Gustafsson and Undheim 1996). In Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences there are seven abilities (logicalmathematical, linguistic, spatial, musical, bodilykinesthetic, interpersonal, and intrapersonal intelligence). Among domain-specific abilities, reading ability that is related to linguistic intelligence in Gardner’s model, has some special significance. Specific abilities such as phonological awareness have turned out as early predictors of reading achievement.

2.2 Learning Styles and Learning Strategies Styles refer to characteristic modes of thinking that develop in combination with personality factors (see Cogniti
e Styles and Learning Styles). While general cognitive or information-processing styles are important constructs within differential psychology, learning styles are considered as determinants of SA. Learning styles are general approaches toward learning; they represent combinations of broad motivational orientations and preferences for strategic processing in learning. Prominent learning style conceptions mainly differ with respect to intrinsic and extrinsic goal orientations and surface processing vs. deep processing. Intrinsic vs. extrinsic motivation deals with whether task fulfillment is a goal of its own or a means for superordinate goals. In deep processing, learners try to reach a comprehension of tasks as complete as possible to incorporate their representations into their own knowledge structures and give them personal significance. In surface processing, learners confine processing to the point where they can reproduce the material in an examination or achievement situation as well as possible (Snow et al. 1996). Compared to general learning styles, learning strategies are more specific: They represent goal-oriented endeavors to influence one’s own learning behavior. While former research mostly dealt with simple study skills that were seen as observable behavioral techniques, now cognitive and metacognitive strategies are included. Learning strategies therefore comprise cognitive strategies (rehearsal, organization, elaboration) 13553

School Achie
ement: Cogniti
e and Moti
ational Determinants and metacognitive strategies (planning, monitoring, regulation) as well as resource-oriented strategies (creating a favorable learning environment, controlling attention, and sustaining concentration) (Snow and Swanson 1992). Frequently, learning strategies are assessed by means of questionnaires. In spite of the great importance learning strategies have for understanding knowledge acquisition and learning from instruction, only few empirical data concerning the relation between learning strategies and SA are available. Most studies done in the context of schools and universities have shown positive but small correlations between learning strategies and SA. One reason may be that assessment by questionnaires is too general. On the whole, the exact conditions under which learning strategies are predictive to achievement have still to be worked out. Besides motivational and metacognitive factors, epistemological beliefs are important determinants for learning strategies and achievement. They refer to beliefs about the nature of knowledge and learning such as: knowledge acquisition depends on innate abilities, knowledge is simple and unambiguous, and learning is quick. Epistemological beliefs can influence quality of achievement and persistence on difficult tasks (Schommer 1994).

2.3 Prior Knowledge Although there have been early attempts to identify knowledge prerequisites for learning, the role of prior knowledge (see Intelligence, Prior Knowledge, and Learning) as a determinant of SA has long been neglected. Since the early 1980s, research on expertise has convincingly demonstrated that superior performance of experts is mainly caused by the greater quantity and quality of their knowledge bases (see Expertise, Acquisition of). Prior knowledge does not only comprise domain-specific content knowledge, that is, declarative, procedural, and strategic knowledge, but also metacognitive knowledge, and it refers to explicit knowledge as well as to tacit knowledge (Dochy 1992). Recent research has shown that taskspecific and domain-specific prior knowledge often has a higher predictive power for SA than intelligence: 30 to 60 percent of variance in post-test scores is accounted for by prior knowledge (Dochy 1992, Weinert and Helmke 1998). Further results concern the joint effects of intelligence and prior knowledge on SA. First, there is a considerable degree of overlap in the predictive value of intelligence and prior knowledge for SA. Second, lack of domain-specific knowledge cannot be compensated for by intelligence (Helmke and Weinert 1999). But learning is not only hindered by a lack of prior knowledge, but also by misconceptions many learners have acquired in their interactions with everyday problems. For example, students often have naive 13554

convictions about physical phenomena that contradict fundamental principles like conservation of motion. These misconceptions, which are deeply rooted in people’s naive views of the world, often are in conflict with new knowledge to be acquired by instruction. To prevent and overcome these conflicts and to initiate processes of conceptual change is an important challenge for classroom instruction.

3. Moti
ational Determinants 3.1 Self-concept of Ability The self-concept of ability (largely equivalent with subjective competence, achievement-related selfconfidence, expectation of success, self-efficacy; see Self-concepts: Educational Aspects; Self-efficacy: Educational Aspects) represents the expectancy component within the framework of an expectancy x value approach, according to which subjective competence (expectancy aspect) and subjective importance (value aspect) are central components of motivation. Substantial correlations between self-concept of ability and SA have been found. Correlations are the higher, the more domain-specific the self-concept of ability is conceptualized, the higher it is, and the older the pupils are. Self-concept of ability is negatively related to test anxiety (see Test Anxiety and Academic Achie
ement) and influences scholastic performance by means of various mechanisms: Students with a high self-concept of ability (a) initiate learning activities more easily and quickly and tend less to procrastination behavior, (b) are more apt to continue learning and achievement activities in difficult situations (e.g., when a task is unexpectedly difficult), (c) show more persistence, (d) are better protected against interfering cognitions such as self-doubt and other worries (Helmke and Weinert 1997).

3.2 Attitude towards Learning, Moti
ation to Learn, and Learning Interest There are several strongly interrelated concepts that are associated with the subjective value—of the domain or subject under consideration, of the respective activities, or on a more generalized level, of teachers and school. The value can refer to the affective aspect of an attitude, to subjective utility, relevance, or salience. In particular, attitude toward learning means the affective (negative or positive) aspect of the orientation towards learning; interest is a central element of self-determined action and a component of intrinsic motivation, and motivation to learn comprises subjective expectations as well as incentive values (besides anticipated consequences like pride, sorrow, shame, or reactions of significant others, the

School Achie
ement: Cogniti
e and Moti
ational Determinants incentive of learning action itself, i.e., interest in activity). Correlations between SA and those constructs are found to be positive but not very strong (the most powerful is interest with correlations in the range of r l 0.40). These modest relations indicate that the causal path from interest, etc. to SA is far and complex and that various mediation processes and context variables must be taken into account (Helmke and Weinert 1997).

3.3 Volitional Determinants Motivation is a necessary but often not sufficient condition for the initiation of learning and for SA. To understand why some people—in spite of sufficient motivation—fail to transform their learning intentions into correspondent learning behavior, volitional concepts have proven to be helpful. Recent research on volition has focused on forms of action control, especially the ability to protect learning intentions against competitive tendencies, using concepts like ‘action vs. state orientation’ (Kuhl 1992). The few empirical studies that have correlated volitional factors with SA demonstrate a nonuniform picture with predominantly low correlations. This might be due to the fact that these variables are primarily significant for self-regulated learning (see Self-regulated Learning) and less important in the typical school setting, where learning activities and goals are (at least for younger pupils) strongly prestructured and controlled by the teacher (Corno and Snow 1986). Apart from that there certainly cannot be expected any simple, direct, linear correlations between volitional characteristics and SA, but complex interactions and manifold possibilities of mutual compensation, e.g., of inefficient learning strategies by increased effort.

appear to profit from a high degree of structuring and suffer from a too open, unstructured learning atmosphere, whereas the reverse is true for self-confident pupils with a solid base of prior knowledge (Corno and Snow 1986). Research has shown a large variation between classrooms, concerning the relation between anxiety and achievement as well as between intelligence and achievement (Helmke and Weinert 1999). A similar process of functional compensation has been demonstrated for self-concept (Weinert and Helmke 1987). (c) Culture specificity. Whereas the patterns and mechanisms of basic cognitive processes that are crucial for learning and achievement are probably universal, many relations shown in Fig. 1 depend on cultural background. For example, the ‘Chinese learner’ does not only show (in the average) a higher level of effort, but the functional role of cognitive processes such as rehearsal is different from the equivalent processes of Western students (Watkins and Biggs 1996). (d) Dynamic interplay. There is a dynamic interplay between SA and its individual motivational determinants: SA is affected by motivation, e.g., selfconcept, and affects motivation itself. From this perspective, SA and its determinants change their states as independent and dependent variables. The degree to which the mutual impact (reciprocity) of academic self-concept and SA is balanced has been the issue of controversy (skill development vs. selfenhancement approach). See also: Academic Achievement: Cultural and Social Influences; Academic Achievement Motivation, Development of; Cognitive Development: Learning and Instruction; Intelligence, Prior Knowledge, and Learning; Learning to Learn; Motivation, Learning, and Instruction; Test Anxiety and Academic Achievement

4. Further Perspecti
es In Fig. 1 only single determinants and ‘main’ effects of cognitive and motivational determinants on SA were considered. Actually, complex interactions and context specificity as well as the dynamic interplay between variables have to be taken into account. The following points appear important: (a) Interactions among
arious indi
idual determinants. For example, maximum performance necessarily requires high degrees of both intelligence and of effort, whereas in the zone of normal\average achievement, lack of intelligence can be compensated (as long as it does not drop below a critical threshold value) by increased effort (and vice versa). (b) Aptitude x treatment interactions and classroom context. Whether test anxiety exerts a strong negative or a low negative impact on SA depends on aspects of the classroom context and on the characteristics of instruction. For example, high test-anxious pupils

Bibliography Beaton A E, Mullis I V S, Martin M O, Gonzales D L, Smith T A 1996 Mathematics Achie
ement in the Middle School Years. TIMSS International Study Center, Boston Corno L, Snow R E 1986 Adapting teaching to individual differences among learners. In: Wittrock M C (ed.) Handbook of Research on Teaching, 3rd edn. Macmillan, New York, pp. 255–96 Dochy F J R C 1992 Assessment of Prior Knowledge as a Determinant for Future Learning: The Use of Prior Knowledge State Tests and Knowledge Profiles. Kingsley, London Gustafsson J-E, Undheim J O 1996 Individual differences in cognitive functions. In: Berliner D C, Calfee R C (eds.) Handbook of Educational Psychology. Simon & Schuster Macmillan, New York, pp. 186–242 Helmke A, Weinert F E 1997 Bedingungsfaktoren schulischer Leistungen. In: Weinert F E (ed.) EnzyklopaW die der Psychologie. PaW dagogische Psychologie. Psychologie des Unter-

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ement: Cogniti
e and Moti
ational Determinants richts und der Schule. Hogrefe, Go$ ttingen, Germany, pp. 71–176 Helmke A, Weinert F E 1999 Schooling and the development of achievement differences. In: Weinert F E, Schneider W (eds.) Indi
idual De
elopment from 3 to 12. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK, pp. 176–92 Kuhl J 1992 A theory of self-regulation: Action versus state orientation, self-discrimination, and some applications. Applied Psychology: An International Re
iew 41: 97–129 Schommer M 1994 An emerging conceptualization of epistemological beliefs and their role in learning. In: Garner R, Alexander P A (eds.) Beliefs about Text and Instruction with Text. Erlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ, pp. 25–40 Snow R E, Corno L, Jackson D 1996 Individual differences in affective and conative functions. In: Berliner D C, Calfee R C (eds.) Handbook of Educational Psychology. Simon & Schuster Macmillan, New York, pp. 243–310 Snow R E, Swanson J 1992 Instructional psychology: Aptitude, adaptation, and assessment. Annual Re
iew of Psychology 43: 583–626 Sternberg R J, Kaufman J C 1998 Human abilities. Annual Re
iew of Psychology 49: 479–502 Watkins D A, Biggs J B 1996 The Chinese Learner: Cultural, Psychological, and Contextual Influences. CERC and ACER, Hong Kong Weinert F E, Helmke A 1987 Compensatory effects of student self-concept and instructional quality on academic achievement. In: Halisch F, Kuhl J (eds.) Moti
ation, Intention, and Volition. Springer, Berlin, pp. 233–47 Weinert F E, Helmke A 1998 The neglected role of individual differences in theoretical models of cognitive development. Learning and Instruction 8(4): 309–23

A. Helmke and F.-W. Schrader

School Administration as a Field of Inquiry Inquiry on the administration of education reflects a variety of intellectual and social influences. Those influences and the main trends in the field’s scholarship are examined.

1. The Ecology of an Applied Field of Inquiry The ecology of an applied field of inquiry reflects its indigenous theory and research and that of related fields, demands from the worlds of policy, practice, and professional preparation, and the spirit of the times which usually mirrors societal and global trends. School administration (often educational administration) is a field of many specializations in such areas as politics, organizational studies, fiscal affairs, law, and philosophical issues or, in less-disciplined oriented areas, such as school effectiveness, leadership and supervision, human resource management and labor relations, and equity issues. 13556

Explanations about subject matter are developed in areas of this sort. As in other fields, theoretical plausibility is judged using various logical and evidentiary criteria. However, applied fields also attend to relevance for practice and implications for assorted conceptions of organizational improvement.

2. A Brief History Educational administration became a recognizable academic field in the early twentieth century in North America and later, in other parts of the world (Campbell et al. 1987, Culbertson 1988). Initially, the field was oriented to practical matters and broad issues reflecting pedagogical and societal values. An example was democratic administration, especially popular before and after World War II. In the 1950s, the field began to adopt social science theories and methods. In the mid-1970s, the subjectivistic, neo-Marxist (largely as critical theory), and identity politics perspectives, already popular in the social sciences and humanities, reached the field, with postmodernism a later addition. These perspectives typically were critical of science, which generated extensive debate. The social science emphasis led to specialization along disciplinary lines that resulted in considerable research, much of it reported in the Encyclopedias of Educational Research issued in roughly 10-year cycles, with 1992 the most recent, in two International Encyclopedias of Education issued in 1975 and 1994, and in the first Handbook of Research on Educational Administration (Boyan 1988). The second Handbook (Murphy and Louis 1999) was more fragmented and factious, often mixing research with philosophical commentary.

3. Current Trends Current trends in inquiry into school administration include conflicting views of knowledge and ethics, efforts to bridge the gaps between theory on the one hand and policy and practice on the other, more attention to making sense of complexity, and an emerging literature on comparative international aspects of school administration.

3.1 Conflicting Views The controversies about knowledge and appropriate methods of seeking it, and about ethics, are ultimately philosophical. The contending positions are similar across the social sciences and humanities, although each field’s literature reflects its peculiarities. The main strands of contending thought are grounded in different general philosophies. Subjectivism, a version of idealism, stresses mind, reason,

School Administration as a Field of Inquiry and intuition. Science is criticized for devaluing humanistic concerns in favor of objectivity. In ethics, there is usually a hierarchy of values with the highest being absolute. In educational administration, Greenfield was this movement’s leading early figure, while Hodgkinson remains its best known scholar, with special contributions to ethical theory ( Willower and Forsyth 1999; see also relevant entries in the 1992 Encyclopedia of Educational Research and the 1994 International Encyclopedia of Education). Critical theory, with its historical roots in the Frankfurt School’s search for a more contemporary Marxism, is devoted to a reformist agenda (revolution is out of fashion) and an ethic of emancipation. Its ideology now goes beyond class to stress race and gender, although advocates of identity politics may not endorse critical theory. Suspicious of science, described as serving the purposes of the ruling class, critical theory’s literature attends mainly to unjust social arrangements. There are many adherents across subfields of education, with William Foster noteworthy in educational administration. Generally, they contend that schools serve the powerful, giving short shrift to the disadvantaged. The antidote is political action, including radicalized educators. Postmodernists and poststructuralists reject metanarratives or broad theories of every kind, including scientific and ethical ones, believing such theories totalize and ignore difference. This leads to an emphasis on text or words; all that is left after efforts to understand and improve the world are disallowed. Texts are deconstructed, or examined for their assumptions, including the ways they oppress and ‘trivialize’ otherness, by what is said and omitted. This view has only recently received much attention in educational administration: the August 1998 issue of Educational Administration Quarterly was on postmodernism and the September 1998 Journal of School Leadership featured a debate on that perspective. In applied fields such as administration, postmodernism may be selectively combined with critical theory. This was discussed by Alvesson and Deetz (1996) and illustrated in the June 1998 issue of Administrati
e Science Quarterly on critical perspectives, where the writings of Foucault on power and control were often cited. It remains to add that Derrida, perhaps the leading scholar in the postmodern-poststructuralist camp, recently (1994) appeared to argue for a relaxing of strictures against metanarratives to allow for radicalized critique, which is what deconstruction has been all along. This suggests recognition that postmodern relativism and nihilism have made it irrelevant to the world of human activity and practice. Adherents of the views sketched often associate science with positivism, a long dead perspective that flourished in the Vienna Circle (1924–1936). Using stringent standards of verification, positivists saw metaphysics as pointless, and values as mere pref-

erences. Although it held on longer in fields such as psychology, positivism lost favor and was folded into the more trenchant analytical philosophy. Nevertheless, positivism has been disinterred to serve as a target in philosophical disputes. Naturalistic and pragmatist philosophies have been the main sources of support for proponents of scientific inquiry in educational administration. Science is seen as a human activity that seeks explanations of how things work, that can be subjected to public assessment. It is an open, growing, enterprise that is fallible but self-corrective, as better methods and theories displace older ones. Based on logic and evidence, its results have been highly successful from the standpoints of the development of plausible theories and of benefiting humankind. Claims about uncovering an ultimate reality or final truths are not made; they are inconsistent with a self-rectifying conception of inquiry. In ethics, absolute principles and pregiven ideologies are rejected in favor of an inquiry-based process that examines moral choices in concrete situations. Competing alternatives are appraised in terms of likely consequences using relevant concepts and theories, and by clarifying applicable principles. Such principles are derived from cumulative moral experience and are guides, not absolutes (see Willower and Forsyth 1999). These contrasting philosophical approaches were sketched to suggest the substance of contemporary debate, because of their implications for scholarship in school administration. Qualitative research, for instance, is a mainstay of subjectivists and those critical theorists who do ‘critical ethnography.’ Postmodernists are less explicit about research, but several articles in the Educational Administration Quarterly issue on postmodernism reported field research. Qualitative studies were done in educational administration long before these views gained popularity, but have become more widespread, and the literature now includes work aimed at demonstrating injustices, rather than building theory. Changing philosophical emphases can legitimate new subject matter and methods, as shown by comparing the second Handbook of Research on Educational Administration (Murphy and Louis 1999) with the first (Boyan 1988). However, philosophical influences are filtered by variations of interest and practice. Work may borrow selectively, sometimes from conflicting philosophies, or tailor philosophical ideas to special purposes, or ignore them entirely. For instance, in ethics, single concepts such as equity, caring, or community often are stressed, sometimes along with visions of the ideal school. More philosophical explorations of moral principles and their applications are scarcer. In epistemology, many writers in antiscience camps argue against positivistic ‘hegemony,’ while ignoring formidable views of inquiry. Hence, many disputes are about politics rather than theories of knowledge. In educational administration, examples of broad philo13557

School Administration as a Field of Inquiry sophical efforts are Evers and Lakomski’s joint work on epistemology and Hodgkinson’s and Willower’s respective approaches to ethics and to inquiry (See Boyan 1988 and Willower and Forsyth 1999). The substitution of politics for philosophical substance can be found in most social sciences and humanities, reflecting the influences of critical theory, postmodernism, and identity politics. Various commentators see these influences as declining because of their one-sidedness and practical irrelevance. However, they remain visible, claiming a share of the literatures of assorted specializations, including educational administration. 3.2 Theory and Practice In school administration, current issues command much attention; theoretical discussions have a more specialized appeal. Devolution, school site based management, and restructured decision processes are examples of a type of contemporary reform that is the object of wide attention. Such reform results from recent trends in government and politics, but also is the current incarnation of a long line of participatorytype schemes, especially seen in Western countries. They range across democratic administration, human relations, organizational development, open climates and participatory styles of leadership, organizational health, and staff empowerment. This sort of reform is oriented to practice, but has theoretical grounding because openness and participation are often held to be paths to organizational improvements, such as increased staff motivation and commitment. However, most school improvement efforts make demands on time, erode teacher autonomy, and disturb orderly routines, adding to staff overload. Counter forces include pressures to display legitimating progress and educator hopes for positive student outcomes. Such contradictory pressures are characteristic of attempts to improve school practices, but how they play out depends on contexts and contingencies. Another contemporary reform is privatization. It stresses consumer choice, efficiency, and economy. Often linked to efforts to change governmental policies on education, it is squarely in the political arena. While reforms of policy and organization aim at changing practice, students of cognition and learning have sought to understand how practitioners solve problems and make decisions. Influenced by Simon and the ‘Carnegie School,’ this work emphasizes domain-general problem-solving processes and domain-specific knowledge. Research comparing expert and novice decision makers shows the importance of both. In educational administration, the investigations of Leithwood and his associates (Leithwood and Steinbach 1995) have been noteworthy (for other sources, see Willower and Forsyth 1999). Professional preparation programs for school administrators use many approaches to transfer learning 13558

to practice. They include case studies, simulations (sometimes computer based), films, approximations of virtual reality, internships, and other school site based activities. Program improvement has benefited from the cooperative efforts of professorial and administrator associations ( Willower and Forsyth 1999). Improving the practice of school administrators and educational reform is, like inquiry, ever unfinished. Current successes do not guarantee future ones, despite progress made in developing explanative theories, and continuing efforts to improve schools and the preparation of administrators. A barrier to the implementation of theory-based reforms are practice is the multiplicity and complexity of the influences that impinge on the schools, considered next. 3.3 Making Sense of Complexity School administration appears to be more complex than many forms of management. Schools tend to be vulnerable to community and societal forces, are usually subject to substantial regulation (no surprise since they serve society’s children), and have difficulty demonstrating effectiveness. The latter occurs because of the complexity of showing the school’s part in student learning vs. that of family, variations in student motivation and ability, and other factors. Further, schools are commonly expected to foster subject matter achievement and acceptable social skills and conduct. Beyond that, school administrators oversee personnel who ordinarily define themselves as professionals and value latitude in their work. Thus, school organizations are characterized by external pressures and internal forces that heighten complexity. In addition, social changes have placed new demands on schools as societal arrangements that provided regulatory settings for children and youth, have begun to erode. As this occurred, schools increasingly have had to cope with an array of social ills, for instance, substance abuse, vandalism, and violence, against a backdrop that too often includes dysfunctional families and subcultures with norms that devalue learning, along with the miseducative effects on young people of ubiquitous mass media. As a result, many schools face expanded responsibilities, adding new complexities to the administration of schools. Such complexity can be daunting. One response in education, as in business, has been a susceptibility to fads, with total quality management as a recent example. These fads may include some reasonable ideas, commonly packaged as part of a larger program. Although often treated as panaceas, they are typically short-lived. Such fads can be explained as attempts to give perceived legitimacy to organizational efforts to confront what in reality are intractable problems. While practitioners adapted to changing social conditions and increasing complexity, those who study school administration sought to gain a better understanding of such phenomena. More sophisticated

School Administration as a Field of Inquiry quantitative analyses facilitated by computer technology provided ways of examining relationships among many variables in numerous combinations, clusters, and sequences. Although empirical investigations rarely employed such analyses, their availability provides possible handles on complexity. More popular recently have been field studies, done as participant observation, ethnography, or case studies. While qualitative methods are favored by those wishing to advance a particular view using illustrations from selected ‘narratives,’ more traditional field work has long sought to plumb complexity by attending to the details of daily activity. Disputes about qualitative vs. quantitative research are not new, mirroring the richness vs. rigor debates in sociology in the 1930s (see Waller 1934). In educational administration, the dominant view appears to favor the use of a variety of methods recognizing that each has strengths and weaknesses. In any event, empirical studies in quantitative and qualitative modes have sought to make complexity more understandable, albeit in different ways. The increased recognition of complexity has rekindled interest in chaos theory in educational administration and the social sciences. Chaos theory, it is well to recall, is not a denial of the possibility of orderliness. Rather it is a search for odd, intricate, or many faceted patterns. Reviewing chaos scholarship, Griffiths et al. (1991) concluded enthusiasm for the theory had not resulted in meaningful social research. They suggested that chaos theory has limited applications in educational administration because of the theory’s dependency on precise measures. Conceptual efforts to accommodate fluidity and fluctuation are not new. To cite others, they range from Hegelian dialectical analysis with its clash of opposites, followed by a new synthesis, to threshold effects noted only when a variable reaches a certain level, with little or no gradation, to equifinality or functional equivalents where similar results stem from different sources. Ethical theory has also been concerned with complexity. Perspectives that recognize how moral choices are embedded in elaborate contexts, and attempt to include potential consequences of action as part of choice, are illustrative. Related are cognitive-type studies of problem solving and decision making and work on types of intelligence and their relationship to problem solving. Clearly, human experience is fluid and complex, and human behavior is often irrational and contradictory. Yet, in inquiry, the irrational is apprehended through rational processes, and experience is known through the use of concepts and explanations. Obviously, concepts and theories simplify, but so do intuition, lore, pregiven ideologies, aphorisms, and other ways of confronting experience. Nothing comprehends everything. The trick, in science and administration, is to include the relevant elements and get to the heart of the problem. The record on understanding complexity

in school administration, as in the social sciences, is one of incremental gain. The methods of scientific inquiry can make complexity more comprehensible and more manageable, but there are no panaceas.

3.4 Internationalization Educational administration is becoming internationalized. New preparation programs and journals are cropping up around the world. Established outlets such as the Journal of Educational Administration and Educational Administration Quarterly regularly feature comparative-international pieces, and research done cooperatively by investigators in different countries is increasingly appearing, as for example, in the July 1998 issue of the Journal of School Leadership. In addition to the International Encyclopedias of Education, World Yearbooks of Education, and others, new works are being published, for example the 1996 International Handbook of Educational Leadership and Administration. Scholarly associations such as the University Council for Educational Administration (in North America) and the Commonwealth Council for Educational Administration and Management continue to develop cooperative activities. Internationalization presents opportunities for inquiry that take advantage of different societal-cultural settings to examine the impact of contingencies on behavior and outcomes. Such research can show how the relationships of the variables under study are mediated by setting variables. This, in turn, can lead to new theoretical explanations, not to mention better international understanding. See also: Administration in Organizations; Educational Research and School Reform; School (Alternative Models): Ideas and Institutions; School as a Social System; School Effectiveness Research; School Management

Bibliography Alvesson M, Deetz S 1996 Critical theory and postmodernism approaches to organizational studies. In: Clegg S R, Hardy C, Nord W R (eds.) Handbook of Organizational Studies. Sage, London Boyan N J (ed.) 1988 Handbook of Research on Educational Administration. Longman, New York Campbell R F, Fleming T, Newell T J, Bennion J W 1987 A History of Thought and Practice in Educational Administration. Teachers College Press, New York Culbertson J A 1988 A century’s quest for a knowledge base. In: Boyan N J (ed.) Handbook of Research on Educational Administration. Longman, New York Derrida J 1994 Specters of Marx: The State of the Debt, the Work of Mourning, and the New International. Routlege, New York

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School Administration as a Field of Inquiry Griffiths D E, Hart A W, Blair B G 1991 Still another approach to administration: Chaos theory. Educational Administration Quarterly 27: 430–51 Leithwood K, Steinbach R 1995 Expert Problem Sol
ing. State University of New York Press, Albany, NY Murphy J, Louis K S (eds.) 1999 Handbook of Research on Educational Administration, 2nd edn. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco Waller W 1934 Insight and scientific method. American Journal of Sociology 40: 285–97 Willower D J, Forsyth P B 1999 A brief history of scholarship on educational administration. In: Murphy J, Louis K S (eds.) Handbook of Research on Educational Administration, 2nd edn. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco, pp. 1–24

D. J. Willower

School (Alternative Models): Ideas and Institutions Ever since its beginnings at the turn of the eighteenth to nineteenth century, the modern educational system has been accompanied by alternative schools, the numbers and broad effects of which have varied over the course of the years. This coexistence is by no means based on independence, but is the manifestation of complex reciprocal relations which exist despite fundamental differences in the ideologies of the two approaches. Phases of intensive development in the domain of traditional schools have been mirrored by similar phases of intense activity in the alternative school movement; alternative schools fulfill important functions within the general spectrum of educational possibilities.

1. Background and Conception Because proponents of alternative schooling are critical of contemporary manifestations of the traditional school system, the focus of their critique has shifted over time. In general, however, their criticism is based on objections to the structures and functions of the modern school. They do not restrict their demands to a return to earlier historical epochs and structures in which schools still played a minor role. Their objectives are for duress (compulsory education and instruction) to be replaced by freedom; teacher-directed schooling and instruction by self-directed action on the part of the student; the curriculum by the individual needs of the student; competition and rivalry by community; compartmentalization by wholeness and integral methods in instruction; the separation of life and school by an interweaving of the two spheres (e.g., Holzman 1997). The fundamental criticism of traditional schooling is based on the conviction that this form of education is burdened by a basic con13560

tradiction: Although adults—and particularly adults living in modern democracies—are granted dignity, majority, and self-determination, children and adolescents at school are denied these basic rights, albeit on the pretext that they first have to learn how to exercise them. Because it is not possible to recreate the historical conditions which preceded institutionalized education and its inherent ambivalences, however, the critics of traditional schooling have to resort to socalled ‘counterschool’ initiatives (German: Gegenschulen). Although some of these are embedded in a variety of alternative organizations (e.g., flat-sharing communes, communal child care, and even dietetic measures), in general it is not society that is deschooled, but school itself. The extent to which this radical rearrangement leads to the complete disintegration of institutions is dependent on its (partly unintended) consequences.

2. Structural and Organizational Characteristics Pedagogical aims are reflected in the specific organizational characteristics of any given school (e.g., the general structure of the school, the relationships between teachers, parents, and students, the organization of classes, the methods implemented). In turn, these characteristics constitute the decisive prerequisites allowing many alternative institutions to exceed the norm with regard to content and in both the pedagogical and the social fields. Indeed, the typical approach of the alternative schools can be reduced to a simple formula: in contrast to the universal institutions of the traditional system, which are characterized by high levels of internal differentiation and complicated organizational structures, alternative institutions are distinguished by social clarity and immediacy owing to the fact that they are, from the outset, geared to the particularities of their respective clients. Accordingly, the student body in an alternative school on average numbers less than 200 (cf. Mintz et al. 1994). Thus, irrespective of content-related differences, the alternative school represents a special type of school or, more specifically, a type of school offering a special kind of education. While this offer may formally be an open one, it in fact only reaches the few who know how to take it up. Due to these invisible processes of selection, alternative schools can be expected to be more or less immune to many of the problems arising in schools which really are open to all (as is made clear by the reports and evaluations of alternative schools; cf. as a very vivid example Duke and Perry 1978). In accordance with the very definition of the alternative school, however, these assets cannot readily be transferred to the mass school system as a whole. Instead of having to simultaneously meet the needs of students from different backgrounds and with various levels of qualification, alternative schools are able to respond

School (Alternati
e Models): Ideas and Institutions to individual differences and developments emanating from a more homogeneous context of attitudes and lifestyles. The additional potential for motivation and identification (in both students and teachers) which is inherent in a free choice of school or in the decision to embark upon a rather unusual experiment constitutes another factor which cannot easily be transferred to the traditional school. As a rule, ‘counterschools’ are spared the arduous coordination of pedagogical subfunctions on the basis of a division of labor: because of the small size of these institutions, instruction and education, counseling and care all rest in the hands of a few. Instead of having to strictly adhere to general and at least partly formulated rules in order to ensure the smooth running of the school and its classes, confidence in the closer personal ties and connections of the school community makes it possible to act more effortlessly, easily, and flexibly. Finally, the danger of merely running out of inspiration within the confines of internal school processes is reduced, as the high levels of input from the local environment mean that the system’s contours remain rather diffuse. The close links between the home and the school, which are not limited to financial support, but also involve the parents’ practical cooperation, can be seen as another important asset.

3. De
elopments Since the 1960s The concepts behind alternative schooling and its implementation reach far back in time, and in some respects they refer to the founders of modern educational theory (e.g., Rousseau or Herbart). Progressive education in the United States and so-called ReformpaW dagogik in Germany, both of which emerged after the end of the nineteenth century, may certainly be considered to be phases of activity to which a number of existing institutions can be traced back (e.g., Semel and Sadovnik 1999). However, the main wave of alternative school foundation resulted from political and social conditions including the failure or petering out of large-scale attempts at educational reform (e.g., Carnie et al. 1996); this holds especially for the Anglo-American countries since the 1960s. Most of the alternative institutions founded during this phase were set up in the United States, and the majority are still to be found there (cf. Mintz et al. 1994). Although less than 5 percent of students at elementary and secondary school actually attend alternative schools, the institutions now number several thousands in the United States, most of them elementary schools. The institutions are highly divergent in terms of their targets, methods, integration of parents and students, links with the traditional system, locus of control, and circles of addressees. It would thus seem justified to focus this overview of alternative schooling since the 1960s on the situation in the United States, all the more so because both the

fundamental principle of alternative schools (‘as many institutions as there are needs and groups’) and current trends in development (adopting the tasks of the traditional system) are to be observed there. One important form of alternative education is home schooling (cf. Evans 1973), where parents instruct their children at home with the permission of the state. If—as is quite often the case—these children meet up with other home students in (elementary) schools on single days of the week, there is a sliding transition to school cooperatives aiming at unconstrained, playful, spontaneous learning in open instruction. Other institutions specifically target problematic cases, so-called at-risk students, including not only chronic truants and low-performing students, but also talented nonconformers (in the broadest sense). A well-balanced program of drill and freedom is intended to render school attractive again, thus helping these students to enhance their performance. However, this development has also led to a reverse trend, a sort of back-to-basics shift to formal ‘three Rs’ schools, which specifically emphasize the basic skills, discipline, and respect for the authority of parents and teachers (cf., e.g., Deal and Nolan 1978). Similar trends are to be observed at the secondary level. The large number of schools-within-schools— smaller, less complex units running different experimental programs, and affiliated to larger state schools—is particularly notable. The spectrum also includes schools attempting to set themselves up as ‘just community schools’ based on the principles of Kohlberg’s developmental theory (cf. Kohlberg 1985). The so-called ‘schools without walls’ represent another form of alternative education. They not only offer a ‘normal’ curriculum (differing from that of the traditional school in terms of content and time), but give students the opportunity to learn in the adult world. This is intended to provide students with extrascholastic experience and to enable them to prove themselves in the world of work. Although this approach initially seemed very promising, experience has shown that it is in fact very hard to put into practice.

4. Recent Trends and Perspecti
es Over the past few decades, there have been signs of a kind of division of function and labor between the traditional and the alternative schools in the United States. This has been expressed in an increase in the state-controlled administration of alternative institutions. The fact that such large numbers of US alternative schools were founded at the beginning of the 1980s is probably related to this development. The radical free schools (e.g., Dennison 1969), which signaled the upheavals of the 1960s and certainly provided considerable impetus for subsequent developments, play a lesser role in today’s broader stream 13561

School (Alternati
e Models): Ideas and Institutions of initiatives. The basic conceptions and expectations of alternative schooling have also been affected, resulting in the extremely short lifespan of some of these institutions. There is still a great deal of fluctuation, making it hard to make valid evaluations of these institutions (cf. the data in Mintz et al. 1994, p. 10ff.). Even the early approaches and experiments demonstrated the great weaknesses and dangers of such institutions—the cost of their structure-related advantages (cf. also Swidler 1979). Critics have reduced this to the polemic formula that precisely those principles and premises which allowed the pure ‘counterschool’ initiatives of the early period to emerge later threatened their ability to survive. Wherever the concept of freedom as a counterpole to the compulsory character of the traditional institutions went hand in hand with systematic shortcomings in the specification of learning targets, there was the risk that later conflicts be all the more severe due to the differing hopes and expectations of those involved (cf. Barth 1972, especially p. 108ff). When every schoolrelated action was dependent on the consensus of every single member of the school community, the school’s fate was put in the hands of changing minorities with the power of veto, all the more so when the small size of these private institutions kindled fears of sudden financial ruin. Allowing almost all of those concerned to take an active role in the decisionmaking process did not in fact ensure the equality of all participants—instead of increasing the capacity to solve problems, there was a growing risk of disappointment, and the necessary basic consensus was threatened by frequent conflicts and failures in minor matters. The firm and wide-ranging commitment of parents, extending well into issues of classroom practice, often resulted not so much in the enhancement as in the disturbance of school activities. Teachers were consequently made to feel insecure and were put on the defensive instead being provided with support and control. Attempts to simultaneously cope with the factual demands, organizational affairs, and personal standards inherent in these institutions—preferably without referring to preset guidelines—led to the systematic overexertion of those concerned, and the end of many ‘counterschools’ was marked by the burnout of the teaching staff (Dennison described this phenomenon as early as 1969). The unconditional openness with respect to the other members of the school community and the intimacy of the small group responsible for the school meant that factual disputes often escalated into personal trials. Moreover, school affairs were often overshadowed by secondary motives such as parental self-realization or the search for security. By integrating and promoting alternative schools, the state aims to increase the diversification of the educational spectrum, to enhance the overall efficiency of schools (which has been subject to criticism for decades; cf., e.g., Goodlad 1984), and to better meet 13562

the specific needs of certain problem groups in both school and society. The US programs of community schools, magnet schools and, more recently, charter schools provide evidence for this trend, and are looked upon with growing interest by other countries as possible models for the resolution of system-related problems. However, more detailed analyses of these models point to significant limitations in their problem-solving capacity, limitations which are ultimately rooted in the basic concepts of market and choice (cf. Lauder et al. 1999). The community schools program has already been thwarted by the US authorities’ desegregation measures: although these schools were directed at the advancement of members of the underprivileged minorities, most of whom are colored, they undermined the desired objective of racial integration. Magnet schools were supposed to be a free choice of school with a special educational program which acted like a magnet, attracting students from beyond the racial boundaries marked out in residential areas and school districts. They were intended to promote racial integration, which can scarcely be achieved through the compulsory measure of busing. A number of objections have been voiced against this school form. For example, it is argued that the enlargement of catchment areas weakens the link between the school and the parental home. Furthermore, although magnet schools may well establish a balanced relation between whites and blacks in their own student bodies, there are too few magnet schools to ensure social compensation on a large scale. Moreover, there is an imperceptible shift in their circle of addressees: instead of reaching the underprivileged, out-of-school colored population with their specific educational provision, magnet schools in fact seem to appeal to white parents and their children who would otherwise switch to private schools or the more privileged suburbs (cf. Smrekar and Goldring 1999). The charter schools, on the other hand, which in a way transfer the principles of the private school (i.e., the autonomy of schools and a free choice of school) to the state school system, are faced with comparable problems on a different level inasmuch as unforeseen side effects have been revealed in the social process. Despite the fact that the numbers of charter schools have increased considerably over the past few years, they are still far from ever being able to constitute the majority of state schools, belonging by definition to the optional domain of educational provision. The half-hearted legislative reservations perceptible in most of the federal states against according too many privileges to these schools threaten to render the entire charter program futile (cf. Hassel 1999).

Bibliography Barth R S 1972 Open Education and the American School. Agathon Press, New York

School as a Social System Carnie F, Tasker M, Large M (eds.) 1996 Freeing Education. Steps Towards Real Choice and Di
ersity in Schools. Hawthorn Press, Stroud, UK Deal T E, Nolan R R (eds.) 1978 Alternati
e Schools. Ideologies, Realities, Guidelines. Nelson-Hall, Chicago, IL Dennison G 1969 The Li
es of Children. The Story of the First Street School. Random House, New York Duke D L, Perry C 1978 Can alternative schools succeed where Benjamin Spock, Spiro Agnew, and B. F. Skinner have failed? Adolescence 13: 375–92 Evans T 1973 The School in the Home. Harper & Row, New York Goodlad J I A 1984 Place Called School: Prospects for the Future. McGraw Hill, New York Hassel B C 1999 The Charter School Challenge—A
oiding the Pitfalls, Fulfilling the Promise. Brookings Institution Press, Washington, DC Holzman L 1997 Schools for Growth. Radical Alternati
es to Current Educational Models. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Mahwah, NJ Kohlberg L 1985 The just community approach to moral education in theory and practice. In: Berkowitz M W, Oser F (eds.) Moral Education: Theory and Application. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Hillsdale, NJ, pp. 27–87 Lauder H, Hughes D, Watson S, Waslander S, Thrupp M, Strathdee R, Simiyu I, Dupuis A, McGlinn J, Hamlin J 1999 Trading in Futures. Why Markets in Education Don’t Work. Open University Press, Buckingham, UK Mintz J, Solomon R, Solomon S, Muscat A (eds.) 1994 The Handbook of Alternati
e Education. A Solomon Press Book. Macmillan, New York Ramseger J 1975 Gegenschulen. Radikale Reformschulen in der Praxis [Radical Reform Schools in Practice]. Klinkhardt, Bad Heilbrunn, Germany Semel S F, Sadovnik A R (eds.) 1999 ‘Schools of Tomorrow,’ Schools of Today. What Happened to Progressi
e Education History of School and Schooling. Peter Lang Verlag, New York, Vol. 8 Smrekar C, Goldring E 1999 School Choice in Urban America. Magnet Schools and the Pursuit of Equity. Teachers’ College, Columbia University, New York Swidler A 1979 Organization Without Authority. Dilemmas of Social Control in Free Schools. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA

A. Leschinsky

School as a Social System A ‘social system’ is a set of related elements that work together to attain a goal. Social scientists have frequently employed the concept of a social system to study the school. This has been done in three ways. First, the class has been portrayed as a social system; its elements include the teacher, the students, and formal and informal groups within the class. Second, the school itself has been viewed as a social system; its components are the administration, faculty, counselors, students, academic departments, the curriculum, the extra curriculum, and social networks and other subunits within the school. Third, the school has been

seen as one of a number of subunits in the larger social system of society (Gordon 1957, Loomis and Dyer 1976, Parsons 1961, Smelser 1988).

1. Viewing the School Class as a Social System The most familiar application of the social system model to schools is found in Parsons’ (1959) classic essay on the school class as a social system. Parsons focuses on the class, rather than the larger unit of the school, because he sees the class as the primary place where students learn and mature. According to Parsons, the two most important functions of the class are ‘socialization’ and ‘allocation.’ These functions define and motivate the academic and social processes that occur in the classroom and the interactions that occur among its various components.

1.1 Socialization Socialization is the process through which students internalize the kinds of commitments that they need to play a useful role in adult society. Although the family and community also socialize students, the length of time students spend in school makes the school class a major influence in the socialization process. Time spent in school during the students’ formative years provides ongoing opportunities for systematic, intensive socialization. During this time, students are expected to accept societal values and use them to guide their behavior. Parsons claims that several structural characteristics of the class facilitate the socialization of students. First, students assigned to the same class are fairly homogeneous with respect to age and social development. They are also somewhat homogeneous with respect to social class, since class composition is constrained by the socioeconomic characteristics of the neighborhood in which the school is located. The developmental and socioeconomic homogeneity of the students assists the teacher in transmitting values to the students who become, in turn, models of appropriate behavior for each other. Second, students in the same class are under the tutelage of one or a small number of adult teachers. The age difference between the teacher and students supports the teacher’s authority. The singular role of the teacher as the representative of adult society lends legitimacy to the teacher’s values. A third structural feature of the school class is the curriculum. Pupils are exposed to the same curriculum and assigned the same tasks. A shared curriculum and similar activities allows the teacher to reinforce cultural values and attitudes in multiple ways over the school year. A fourth structural feature of the class is its reward structure. Teachers generally establish a set of rewards 13563

School as a Social System and punishments governing student behavior in a classroom. Good behavior, defined by the teacher’s values, is rewarded, while disruptive actions are sanctioned. Students learn the rules of conduct that apply to social and work situations, and are motivated to obey these rules by the rewards or punishments their behaviors incur.

1.2 Allocation Allocation is the process of sorting individuals and assigning them to groups based on their ability or skills. In a school, allocation refers to the assigning of students to instructional units according to their abilities or achievement. The purpose of this sorting process is to prepare students to attain an occupational position in society commensurate with their capabilities (Gamoran et al. 2000, Hallinan 1994, Lynch 2000, Oakes 1994). Parsons defines achievement as excellence, relative to one’s peers, in meeting the expectations of the teacher. Achievement has two components: cognitive and moral. Teachers attempt to motivate students to achieve academically and to learn the skills needed to perform in adult society. They also teach students a moral code and a set of behaviors consistent with the values of adult society. Students are evaluated on each of these two components. Society may assign greater weight to one component than the other or may treat them as equally important. As with socialization, structural differentiation occurs through a process of rewarding students for excellence and punishing them for failure to meet teacher expectations. In the elementary school classroom, the criteria for excellence are not clearly differentiated across cognitive and moral dimensions. Teachers aim to develop both good citizenship and an achievement motivation in children. They also begin the process of classifying youth on the basis of their ability to achieve. While assigning students to classes by ability typically does not occur in elementary school, many elementary school teachers instruct their students in small, abilitybased groups within the classroom. Their purpose is to facilitate instruction and to prepare students for later channeling into ability-based classes. This initial sorting sensitizes students to the differential achievement that characterizes a class and to the way rewards are allocated for performance. At the secondary level, the cognitive and moral components of achievement are separable, and greater emphasis is placed on cognitive achievement. Parsons claims that students who achieve academic excellence in high school are better suited for technical roles in society, while those who excel in the moral or social sphere are more fit for socially oriented roles. The actual sorting of students in high school typically occurs by assigning students to classes for instruction based on their ability level. Since ability-grouped 13564

classes vary by student and teacher characteristics and by the curriculum, they represent different social systems within the school. The conceptual attraction of the social system model of the classroom has stimulated a body of research over the past few decades. The model depicts how the teacher, formal and informal groups, and individual students interact in the classroom and perform or cooperate with the functions of socialization and allocation. Examples of research based on this model include studies of teacher expectations, the quantity and quality of teacher–student interactions, gender and race effects on task-related and social interactions, peer influences and student friendship groups.

2. Viewing the School as a Social System Researchers are more likely to focus on the school, rather than the classroom, when utilizing the social system model to analyze education. Like the class, the school must perform the functions of socialization and allocation in order to play its assigned role in society. Viewing the school as a social system directs attention to how the parts of a school interact to carry out these functions.

2.1 Socialization For students to be socialized successfully in school, they must cooperate in their education. They are less likely to resist if they accept the authority of their teachers and believe that the school’s policies and practices are fair. When students agree with school policies and practices, they are unlikely to resist socialization. With student cooperation, a school is expected to attain its goal of graduating students who have internalized societal values and norms beyond those held by their families.

2.2 Allocation To attain its goal of allocation, a school must locate students on an achievement hierarchy, defining each person’s capability and aspirations. A critical factor in the school’s ability to allocate students is that both the family and school attach high value to achievement (Parsons 1959). When adults view student achievement as a high priority, students are more likely to internalize the motivation to achieve and to cooperate with adults as they orient students toward specific adult roles. When schools succeed in this effort, they match society’s human resources with its adult occupational structure. The primary mechanism for the allocation process is the organizational differentiation of students for

School as a Social System instruction by ability. Middle and high schools in the United States typically assign students to Academic, Vocational, and General tracks. Students assigned to the Academic track take college preparatory courses, those assigned to the Vocational track take skills and job-related courses, and students assigned to the General track are offered both low-level academic courses and skills courses. Track assignment is a major determinant of whether a student advances to college or enters the job market after graduation. Theoretical and empirical studies demonstrate the way various parts of a school interact to socialize students and prepare them for the labor market. Research on the school as a bureaucracy, on the formal or informal organization of the school, and on social networks within the school, illustrates this approach. These and other studies demonstrate the heuristic value of conceptualizing the school as a social system and show how this model has integrated a wide variety of studies about schooling.

3. Viewing the School as a Subsystem in Society Many social scientists have used the social system model to analyze the role of various institutions in society. Education is seen as one of society’s primary institutions, along with religion, the economy, and the judicial system. The aim of a social system approach to the study of schools in society is to ascertain how schooling enables society to achieve its goals. 3.1 Structural Functionalist Perspecti
e on Schools in Society A theoretical perspective that dominated early twentieth century societal analysis was structural functionalism (Durkheim 1956, Parsons 1951). A major premise of structural functionalism is that a society must perform a set of functions in order to survive. According to Parsons (1956), these functions are: obtaining and utilizing resources from the system’s external environment; setting goals for the system and generating the motivation and effort to attain these goals; regulating the units of the system to insure maintenance and to avoid destructive conflicts; and storing and distributing cultural symbols, ideas, and values. Schools perform these functions by socializing students to societal values, by providing a common culture and language, by enabling and encouraging competition, and by preparing students for the labor market. Structural functionalism purports that a social system must exist in a state of equilibrium or, if disrupted, must make adjustments to restore balance. If one social institution in society undergoes major change, interrelated social institutions are expected to accommodate this change and to bring society back to a stable state. For example, if the economy of a society

were to change, students would need to be socialized and allocated in different ways to support the new economic structure. The social system would then be restored to balance, though it would differ structurally from its original state. 3.1.1 Limitations of the structural functionalist model. The structural functionalist perspective has been challenged on many grounds. The most common criticism questions its assumption of systemic equilibrium. Critics claim that structural functionalism ignores the processes of social change internal to a social system. They argue that the relationship among the parts of a social system tends to change over time and that the social system that emerges as a result of these changes may differ fundamentally from the original system. Another criticism of structural functionalism regards its claim that a social system continues to operate as intended if all the parts of the system perform their functions. This assumption fails to take into account the possibility of external shocks to the system. An external shock could alter the pattern of interactions among the system’s parts in such a way as to disrupt its stability, leading to a basic restructuring of the system or, possibly, to its disintegration. Finally, the structural functionalist perspective has been criticized on ideological or political grounds. Critics claim that a structural functionalist perspective portrays the school as an institution that supports and perpetuates the existing social order and its stratification system. They argue that while schools reward students for ability and achievement, they also maintain the influence of ascribed characteristics on adult success. Structural functionalists fail to analyze the extent to which schools preserve a class-based society. Not only does structural functionalism ignore the way schools perpetuate the status quo; it also fails to explain how ascriptive characteristics mediate the effects of achievement after graduation. By linking occupational success to organizational characteristics of schools and academic achievement, structural functionalism fails to explain the poor fit that often exists between a student’s skills and abilities and the student’s future place in the labor market. Critics of structural functionalism argue that a job seeker can often negotiate with a prospective employer, and that this process allows an individual’s ascribed characteristics and social status to influence job placement. In short, structural functionalism is generally viewed as a static theory, which only partially describes the interactions in a school system, or between schools and the rest of society. Even when social change is incorporated into the model, the change is not seen as leading to a radical transformation of the school. As a result, the theory fails to depict the more dynamic and controversial dimensions of schooling. Nevertheless, structural functionalism has been a useful theoretical 13565

School as a Social System perspective to explain how schools and classrooms function as social systems under certain conditions in society.

3.2 Conflict Perspecti
e on the School as a Social System Conflict theory (Bowles and Gintis 1976, Collins 1971) is an alternative theoretical model for the analysis of the school as a social system. Conflict theory posits competition as the major force driving societal development. While structural functionalism views technological needs and economic growth as the major influences on society, conflict theory argues that competition for wealth and power is the primary state of society and social change is its inevitable result. According to conflict theory, ascribed characteristics are the basis of elite status. Collins (1971) argues that the continuing effort of the elite to exert control over lower status groups creates an ongoing struggle for power and prestige. Conflict theory specifies conditions under which subordinates are likely to resist the domination of superiors through noncompliance and resistance. Under conditions of economic hardship, political turmoil, or cultural conflict, nonelites are more likely to resist domination and to challenge the relationship that exists between education and occupation. Their discontent typically precipitates social change. Conflict theory not only explains the relationship between education and occupation; it also yields insights into the power struggles that occur between schools and other social groups in society. For example, during the student movement in the USA in the 1960s and 1970s, students resisted authority and the status quo. Tensions and disruptions continued until students were granted a greater voice in university affairs and in political life. Current controversies about school prayer, sex education, curriculum content, racial integration, and school vouchers are led by competing interest groups. These controversies are likely to lead to compromises that involve some redistribution of authority and power. The power struggle that occurs in society may also be observed in the school and in the classroom. In schools, students create their own value system that may be inconsistent with the school’s academic goals. The tests and grades administered by schools as a sorting mechanism may be viewed as a way to maintain the status quo, to enforce discipline and order, or to co-opt the most intelligent of the lower classes. In the classroom, students may challenge teacher authority and negotiate teacher power through resistance. By directly addressing the relationship between conflict and social change, ‘conflict theory’ supplements structural functionalism in explaining the behavior of schools in society and in predicting social change. Both theories point to important aspects of 13566

the dynamics of social systems. As stressed by structural functionalists, schools do socialize and allocate students, mostly by meritocratic criteria. But conflict theorists are correct in maintaining that nonmeritocratic factors also influence the allocation process. Structural functionalists are accurate in stating that students typically cooperate with teachers in the learning process, but conflict theorists recognize that some students resist authority and rebel. Further, conflict occurs in communities, schools, and classrooms, but it is not always class-based. Relying on the insights of both theories increases our understanding of schools in society.

4. Coleman’s Analysis of the School as a Social System In his last major work on social theory, Coleman (1990) argued explicitly that the aim of sociology is to explain the behavior of social systems. He pointed out that social systems might be studied in two ways. In the first approach, the system is the unit of analysis and either the behavior of a sample of social systems are studied or the behavior of a single social system is observed over time. Coleman’s (1961) study of the adolescent subculture follows this strategy. The second approach involves examining internal processes in a social system, including the relationships that exist among parts of the system. Research on the association between track level in high school and a student’s growth in academic achievement is an example of linking a sub-unit of a school to an individual. Studies of the transition from school to work illustrate the relationship between two subunits of society, education and the labor market. Social system analysis involves explaining three transitions: macro to micro, micro to micro, and micro to macro level transitions (Alexander et al. 1987, Collins 1981, Knorr-Cetina and Cicourel 1981). The macro to micro transition involves the effects of the social system itself on subunits (typically individuals) in the system. An analysis of the effects of ability group level on students’ educational aspirations is an example. The micro to micro transition links characteristics of subunits in the social system to the behavior of those subunits. An example is an analysis of the effects of gender on achievement. Finally, the micro to macro transition pertains to how the behavior of subunits in a social system influences the social system as a whole. Research on the effects of student achievement on the way the school organizes students for instruction is illustrative. Coleman argued that the micro to macro transition is the most difficult to analyze, because it requires specifying the interdependency among subunits or individuals in a social system. His theory of purposive action provides a way to model this transition. In general, Coleman’s insistence that the study of social

School Effecti
eness Research systems includes an explicit focus on the transitions that exist between macro level and micro level processes in the social system promises to draw greater attention to the social system approach to the study of schooling in society.

5. Conclusions Conceptualizing the school as a social system is a useful approach to the study of schools. The social system model has led to new theoretical insights about how education, as an institution, affects other societal institutions. It has also generated a significant body of empirical research that demonstrates the interdependence of sub-units in a school and of schools within larger organizational units and their effects on social outcomes. These studies have yielded a better understanding of the role schools play and the contribution they make to contemporary social life. See also: Coleman, James Samuel (1926–95); Educational Institutions and Society; Socialization in Adolescence; Socialization in Infancy and Childhood; Socialization, Sociology of; System: Social

Bibliography Alexander J, Giesen B, Munch R, Smelser N 1987 The Micromacro Link. University California Press, Berkeley, CA Bowles S, Gintis H 1976 Schooling in Capitalist America: Educational Reform and the Contradictions of Economic Life. Basic Books, New York Coleman J S 1961 The Adolescent Society. Free Press, New York Coleman J S 1990 The Foundations of Social Theory. Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA Collins R 1971 Functional and conflict theories of educational stratification. American Sociological Re
iew 36: 1002–19 Collins R 1981 On the micro-foundations of macro-sociology. American Journal of Sociology 86: 984–1015 Durkheim E 1956 Education and Sociology. Free Press, New York Gamoran A, Secada W, Marrett C 2000 The organizational context of teaching and learning: Changing theoretical perspectives. In: Hallinan M (ed.) Handbook of the Sociology of Education. Kluwer\Academic\Plenum, New York, Chap. 2, pp. 37–64 Gordon C 1957 The Social System of the High School. Free Press, Glencoe, IL Hallinan M 1994 Tracking: From theory to practice. Sociology of Education 67(2): 79–84, 89–91 Knorr-Cetina K, Cicourel A (eds.) 1981 Ad
ances in Social Theory and Methodology. Routledge and Kegan Paul, London Loomis C P, Dyer E 1976 Educational social systems. In: Lommis C P (ed.) Social Systems: The Study of Sociology. Schenkman, Cambridge, MA, Chap. 7 Lynch K 2000 Research and theory on equality and education. In: Hallinan M (ed.) Handbook of the Sociology of Education. Kluwer\Academic\Plenum, New York, Chap. 4, pp. 85–106 Oakes J 1994 More than misapplied technology: A normative and political response to Hallinan on tracking. Sociology of Education 67(2): 84–9, 91

Parsons T 1951 The Social System. Free Press, New York Parsons T 1956 Economy and Society: A Study in the Integration of Economic and Social Theory. Free Press, Glencoe, IL Parsons T 1959 The school class as a social system: Some of its functions in American society. Har
ard Educational Re
iew 29: 297–318 Parsons T 1961 An outline of the social system. In: Parsons T, Shiks E, Naegele K, Pitts R (eds.) Theories of Society. Free Press, New York, Vol. 1 Smelser N 1998 Social structure. In: Smelser N (ed.) Handbook of Sociology. Sage, Newbury Park, CA, pp. 103–29

M. Hallinan

School Effectiveness Research 1. School Effecti
eness and School Effecti
eness Research In the most general sense ‘school effectiveness’ refers to the level of goal attainment of a school. Although average achievement scores in core subjects, established at the end of a fixed program are the most probable ‘school effects,’ alternative criteria like the responsiveness of the school to the community and the satisfaction of the teachers may also be considered. Assessment of school effects occurs in various types of applied contexts like the evaluation of school improvement programs or comparing schools for accountability purposes, by governments, municipalities, or individual schools. School effectiveness research attempts to deal with the causal aspects inherent in the effectiveness concept by means of scientific methods. Not only are assessment of school effects considered, but particularly the attribution of differences in school effects to malleable conditions. Usually, school effects are assessed in a comparative way, e.g., by comparing average achievement scores between schools. In order to determine the ‘net’ effect of malleable conditions, like the use of different teaching methods or a particular form of school management, achievement measures have to be adjusted for intake differences between schools. For this purpose student background characteristics like socioeconomic status, general scholastic aptitudes, or initial achievement in a subject are used as control variables. This type of statistical adjustment in research studies has an applied parallel in the strive for ‘fair comparisons’ between schools, known under the label of ‘value-added.’

2. Strands of Educational Effecti
eness Research School effectiveness research has developed as a gradual integration of several research traditions. The roots of current ‘state-of-the-art’ school effectiveness 13567

School Effecti
eness Research

Figure 1 A basic systems model of school functioning

research are sketched by briefly referring to each of these research traditions. The elementary design of school effectiveness research is the association of hypothetical effectivenessenhancing conditions of schooling and output measures, mostly student achievement. A basic model from systems theory, where the school is seen as a black box, within which processes or ‘throughput’ take place to transform inputs into outputs. The inclusion of an environmental or context dimension completes this model (see Fig. 1). The major task of school effectiveness research is to reveal the impact of relevant input characteristics on output and to ‘break open’ the black box in order to show which process or throughput factors ‘work,’ next to the impact of contextual conditions. Within the school it is helpful to distinguish a school and a classroom level and, accordingly, school organizational and instructional processes. Research tradition in educational effectiveness varies according to the emphasis that is put on the various antecedent conditions of educational outputs. These traditions also have a disciplinary basis. The

common denominator of the five areas of effectiveness research that will be distinguished is that in each case the elementary design of associating outputs or outcomes of schooling with antecedent conditions (inputs, processes, or contextual) applies. The following research areas or research traditions can be distinguished: (a) Research on equality of opportunities in education and the significance of the school in this. (b) Economic studies on education production functions. (c) The evaluation of compensatory programs. (d) Studies of unusually effective schools. (e) Studies on the effectiveness of teachers, classes, and instructional procedures. For a further discussion of each of these research traditions the reader is referred to Scheerens (1999). A schematic characterization of research orientation and disciplinary background is given in Table 1.

3. Integrated School Effecti
eness Research In recent school effectiveness studies these various approaches to educational effectiveness have become integrated. Integration was manifested in the conceptual modeling and the choice of variables. At the technical level multilevel analysis has contributed significantly to this development. In contributions to the conceptual modeling of school effectiveness, schools became depicted as a set of ‘nested layers’ (Purkey and Smith 1983), where the central assumption was that higher organizational levels facilitated effectiveness enhancing conditions at lower levels (Scheerens and Creemers 1989). In this way, a synthesis between production functions, instructional

Table 1 General characteristics of types of school effectiveness research Independent variable type (a) (un)equal opportunities (b) production functions (c) evaluation compensatory programs (d) effective schools (e) effective instruction

13568

Dependent variable type

Discipline

Main study type

socioeconomic status and IQ of pupils, material school characteristics material school characteristics specific curricula

attainment

sociology

survey

achievement level

economics

survey

achievement level

interdisciplinary pedagogy

quasi-experiment

‘process’ characteristics of schools characteristics of teachers, instruction, class organization

achivement level

interdisciplinar pedagogy

case-study

achievement level

educational psychology

experiment, observation

School Effecti
eness Research

Figure 2 An integrated model of school effectiveness (from Scheerens 1990)

effectiveness, and school effectiveness became possible by including the key variables from each tradition, each at the appropriate ‘layer’ or level of school functioning (the school environment, the level of school organization and management, the classroom level, and the level of the individual student). Conceptual models that were developed according to this integrative perspective are those by Scheerens (1990), Creemers (1994), and Stringfield and Slavin (1992). The Scheerens model is shown in Fig. 2. Exemplary cases of integrative, multilevel school effectiveness studies are those by Brandsma (1993), Sammons et al. (1995), and Grisay (1996). In Table 2 (cited from Scheerens and Bosker 1997) the results of three meta-analyses and a re-analysis of an international data set have been summarized and compared to results of more ‘qualitative’ review of the research evidence. The qualitative review was based on studies by Purkey and Smith (1983), Levine and Lezotte (1990), Scheerens (1992), and Sammons et al. (1995). The results concerning resource input variables are based on the re-analysis of Hanushek’s (1979) summary of results of production function studies that was carried out by Hedges et al. (1994). As stated before this re-analysis was criticized, particularly the unexpectedly large effect of per pupil expenditure.

The results on ‘aspects of structured teaching’ are taken from meta-analyses conducted by Fraser et al. (1987). The international analysis was based on the IEA Reading Literacy Study and carried out by Bosker (Scheerens and Bosker 1997, Chap. 7). The meta-analysis on school organizational factors, as well as the instructional conditions ‘opportunity to learn,’ ‘time on task,’ ‘homework,’ and ‘monitoring at classroom level,’ were carried out by Witziers and Bosker and published in Scheerens and Bosker (1997, Chap. 6). The number of studies that were used for these meta-analyses varied per variable, ranging from 14 to 38 studies in primary and lower secondary schools. The results in this summary of reviews and metaanalyses indicate that resource-input factors on average have a negligible effect, school factors have a small effect, while instructional variables have an average to large effect. The conclusion concerning resource-input factors should probably be modified and somewhat ‘nuanced,’ given the results of more recent studies referred to in the above, e.g., the results of recent studies concerning class-size reduction. There is an interesting difference between the relatively small effect size for the school level variables reported in the meta-analysis and the degree of certainty and consensus on the relevance of these factors in the more qualitative research reviews. It should be noted that the three blocks of variables depend on types of studies using different research methods. Education production function studies depend on statistics and administrative data from schools or higher administrative units, such as districts or states. School effectiveness studies focusing at school level factors are generally carried out as field studies and surveys, whereas studies on instructional effectiveness are generally based on experimental designs.

4. Foundational and Fundamental School Effecti
eness Studies Foundational school effectiveness studies refer to basic questions about the scope of the concept of school effectiveness. Can a school be called effective on the basis of achievement results measured only at the end of a period of schooling, or should such a school be expected to have high performance at all grade levels? Can school effectiveness be assessed by examining results in just one or two school subjects, or should all subject matter areas of the curriculum be taken into account? Also, shouldn’t one restrict the qualification of a school being effective to consistently high performance over a longer period of time, rather than a ‘one shot’ assessment at just one point in time? Fortunately all of these questions are amenable to empirical research. These type of studies that are associated with the consistency of school effects over grade-levels, teachers, subject-matter areas, and time 13569

School Effecti
eness Research Table 2 Reviews of the evidence from qualitative reviews, an international study, and research syntheses; coefficients are correlations with student achievement (the plus signs in the table refer to a positive assessment of the variable in question in the reviews). Qualitative reviews Resource input
ariables: Pupil–teacher ratio Teacher training Teacher experience Teachers’ salaries Expenditure per pupil School organizational factors: Productive climate culture Achievement pressure for basic subjects Educational leadership Monitoring\evaluation Cooperation\consensus Parental involvement Staff development High expectations Orderly climate

j j j j j j j j j

Instructional conditions: Opportunity to learn Time on task\homework Monitoring at classroom level

j j j

International analyses k0.03 0.00

0.02 k0.03 0.04 k0.07 0.20

0.02 0.04 0.00 k0.02 0.08

0.14 0.05 0.15 0.03 0.13

0.20 0.04

0.11

0.15 0.00\k0.01 (n.s.) k0.01 (n.s.)

Aspects of structured teaching: —cooperative learning —feedback —reinforcement Differentiation\adaptive instruction

have been referred to as ‘foundational studies’ (Scheerens 1993) because they are aimed at resolving issues that bear upon the scope and ‘integrity’ of the concept of school effectiveness. A recent review of such foundational studies is given in Scheerens and Bosker (1997, Chap. 3). Their results concerning primary schools are presented in Table 3. Consistency is expressed in terms of the correlation between two different rank orderings of schools. Results are based on arithmetic and language achievement. The results summarized in Table 3 indicate that there is a reasonable consistency across cohorts and subjects, while the consistency across grades is only average. Results measured at the secondary level likewise show reasonably high stability coefficients (consistency across cohorts), and somewhat lower coefficients for stability across subjects (e.g., in a French study (Grisay 1996), coefficients based on value-added results were 0.42 for French language and 0.27 for mathematics). The average consistency between subjects at the secondary level was somewhat lower than in the case of primary schools (r about 13570

Research syntheses

0.09 0.19\0.06 0.11 (n.s.) 0.27 0.48 0.58 0.22

Table 3 Consistency of school effectiveness (primary level) Type of consistency

Average correlation

across time (stability) (1 or 2 years) across grades across subjects

r l 0.70 (0.34–0.87) r l 0.50 (0.20–0.69) r l 0.70 (0.59–0.83)

Source: Scheerens and Bosker (1997, Chap. 3)

0.50). This phenomenon can be explained by the fact that, at the secondary level, different teachers usually teach different subjects, so that inconsistency is partly due to variation between teachers. The few studies in which factor analysis was used to examine the size of a stable school factor relative to year specific and subject specific effects have shown results varying from a school factor explaining 70 percent of the subject and cohort specific (gross) school effects, to 25 percent. The picture that emerges from these studies on the stability and consistency of school effects is far from

School Effecti
eness Research being indifferentially favorable with respect to the unidimensionality of the school effects concept. Consistency is fair, when effects at the end of a period of schooling are examined over a relatively short time interval. When grade-level and subject matter area is brought into the picture, consistency coefficients tend to be lower, particularly when different teachers teach different grades or subjects. School effects are generally seen as teacher effects, especially at the secondary school level The message from these ‘foundational studies’ is that one should be careful not to overgeneralize the results of school effectiveness studies when only results in one or two subject matter areas at one point in time are measured. Another implication is that hypothetical antecedent conditions of effects are not only to be sought at the school organizational level, but also at the level of teaching and the teaching and learning process. Fundamental school effectiveness studies are theory- and model-driven studies. Bosker and Scheerens (1994) presented alternative causal specifications of the conceptual multilevel models referred to in an earlier section. These models attempt to grasp the nature of the relationships between e.g., schools and classroom conditions. For example, whether such relationships are additive, interactive, reciprocal, or form a causal chain. Other studies that have attempted to formalize these types of relationships are by Hofman (1995) and Creemers and Reezigt (1996). In general, it appeared to be difficult to establish the better ‘fit’ of one of the alternative model specifications. More complex models, based on the axioms of microeconomic theory, have been tested by de Vos (1998), making use of simulation techniques. So far, these studies are too few to draw general conclusions about the substantive outcomes; continuation of this line of study is quite interesting, however, also from a methodological point of view. From a substantive point of view educational effectiveness studies have indicated the relatively small effects of these conditions in developed countries, where provisions are at a uniformly relatively high level. At the same time the estimates of the impact of innate abilities and socioeconomic background characteristics—also when evaluated as contextual effects—seem to grow, as studies become more methodologically refined. Given the generally larger variation in both conditions and outcomes of schooling in developing countries—and the sometimes appallingly low levels of both—there is both societal and scientific relevance in studying school effectiveness in these settings.

5. The Future of School Effecti
eness Research From this article it could be concluded that school effectiveness research could be defined in a broad and

a narrow sense. In the broadest sense one could refer to all types of studies which relate school and classroom conditions to achievement outcomes, preferably after taking into account the effects of relevant student background variables. In a narrower sense, state-of-the-art integrative school effectiveness studies and foundational and fundamental studies could be seen as the core. Following the broader definition the future of school effectiveness studies is guaranteed, particularly in the sense of ‘applied’ studies, like cohort studies, large-scale effect studies carried out for accountability purposes, monitoring studies, and assessment studies. State-of-the-art, fundamental and foundational school effectiveness studies are a much more vulnerable species. One of the major difficulties is the organizational complexity and costs of the ‘state-ofthe-art types’ of study. Given the shortage of these kind of studies the more fundamental and foundational types of studies are likely to be dependent on the quality of data-sets that have been acquired for ‘applied purposes.’ Therefore the best guarantee for continued fundamental school effectiveness research lies in the enhanced research technical quality of applied studies. One example consists of quasi-experimental evaluation of carefully designed school improvement projects. Another important development is the use of IRT (Item Response Theory) modeling and ‘absolute’ standards in assessment programs. If school effects can be defined in terms of distance or closeness in average achievement to a national or even international standard, some of the interpretation weaknesses of comparative standards belong to the past. See also: Educational Assessment: Major Developments; Program Evaluation; School Improvement; School Management; School Outcomes: Cognitive Function, Achievements, Social Skills, and Values; Teacher Behavior and Student Outcomes

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J. Scheerens

tion important conditions and crucial characteristics of the processes. In the definition of these different concepts generally, and to distinguish school improvement from other concepts, at least three points should be taken into consideration. (a) The level in educational system where the change takes place: the school, the district, or the state. Ultimately, every change process has to reach the classroom and the level of the individual student. In order to make a distinction, educational change at national level is often called ‘systemic reform.’ The term ‘school improvement’ makes clear that the change takes place at school level. (b) In all definitions, distinctions should be made between, on the one hand, the process of educational change, the strategies used, and the characteristics of the change process, and, on the other, the outcomes of the change process. In everyday use, the term can refer to one of these aspects or even to a combination of them: for example, to strategy and the product of change. Fullan clarifies what he calls ‘the confusion between the terms change and progress’ (Fullan 1991, p. 4). Not every change is progress: the actual outcome of the change processes in terms of progress is not as important as the intended outcomes in the desired direction. (c) When it comes to the outcomes of change, there is often no well-defined concept of what the change is aimed at: the context of education, the inputs and processes, or, ultimately, the outcomes in terms of student achievement. The International School Improvement Project (ISIP) defines school improvement as a ‘a systematic sustained effort aimed at change in learning conditions and other related internal conditions in one or more schools, with the ultimate aim of accomplishing educational goals more effectively’ (Van Velzen et al. 1985). This definition specifies improvement as an innovation or planned change with specific means (change in learning and other internal conditions of the school) and specific goals (ultimately to accomplish educational goals more effectively).

School Improvement 2. Practice and Theory in School Impro
ement 1. School Impro
ement Different terms are used to describe change processes in schools and educational systems as a whole. They include: ‘educational change,’ ‘innovation,’ ‘reform,’ and development.’ These terms are quite often used in an interchangeable manner, and their meaning in the literature is frequently ambiguous. Many authors do not define them, but instead tend to trust everyday usage to convey the meaning of the words. Other authors define the concept by including in the defini13572

School improvement as a process has been demarcated into three global phases: the initiation, the implementation, and the continuation processes. Stakeholders of school improvement are more narrowly circumscribed and consist of students, teachers, principals, and parents at school level, and of local educational authorities, consultants, and the local community at local level. In exceptional cases, where it is a regional or national strategy to improve all schools, the stakeholders at these levels are also relevant.

School Impro
ement School improvement is a very widespread phenomenon and a wide variety of improvement efforts can be found. For example, there is a lot of improvement going on which does not aim at enhancing student outcomes at all. These types of improvement focus, for instance, on the career development of teachers, on restructuring the organization of the school, on the way decisions are made, or on the relationships between schools and their clients. Sometimes restructuring takes place at classroom level. Changes in the writing practices of elementary schoolteachers, for example, have been described in great detail. Nevertheless, the actual impact of the changes on students and on student achievement is usually left out. Some schools practice improvement on their own and try to find their own solutions to their problems. Other schools have chosen to implement as accurately as possible improvement programs that have been developed elsewhere. This is called fidelity implementation. Often they do not consider alternative educational options. For example, they may opt for a specific program primarily because another school was satisfied with it (Stringfield 1995). Some schools are involved in improvement only because their government expects them to be (Hopkins et al. 1994). Depending on the extent to which educational policies are translated into clear outlines and contents, fidelity implementation is a more or less appropriate concept. When the educational policy is rather prescriptive with respect to curricular content and outcome levels, as it is in the UK (Hopkins et al. 1994), it is theoretically possible to check whether or not schools are implementing this policy. When the educational policy is rather open-ended, as is the Dutch policy on educational priorities (Van der Werf 1995) or the Dutch inclusion policy, it is virtually impossible to apply the notion of fidelity implementation. Only a small part of school improvement is based on research (Stringfield 1995). Innovations are hardly ever tested before they are implemented in educational practice, and an adequate e
aluation of their impact is rare. The same applies to the occurrence of experimental or quasi-experimental designs in improvement projects. Some school improvers have preferred forms of action research instead of research-based experiments. Sometimes projects based on changing only a couple of factors report great successes. It may be that changes in just a few important areas can alter a whole system, but the question is whether these changes— often cases of educational mass hysteria—will stand the test of time. In education, the margins for change are generally small, because of the impact of noneducational factors such as the individual characteristics of students. Evaluations are often not carried out satisfactorily or are performed after a timespan that is too short. School improvement projects have shown that it takes time to design, develop, implement, and evaluate changes in schools—more time than is often available.

Because of inadequate evaluations, questions about the causation of effects, extremely important for the school-effectiveness knowledge base, cannot be answered. School improvement, therefore, should consistently pursue assessment of its results, pay attention to its failures and try to learn from these, and limit its goals to prevent confusion of cause and effect (Hopkins et al. 1999). In school improvement, the orientation towards educational practice and policy-making is emphasized. Although, in educational practice schools and classrooms can be found that succeed much better than others, theories cannot be based on exemplary practice only. Insofar as theoretical notions have been developed, they have not yet been empirically and systematically tested. The typologies of school cultures (Hargreaves 1995), for example, have not been studied in educational practice, and their effects on the success of school improvement are as yet unknown. Moreover, their relationships to the first criterion for school improvement (enhancing student outcomes) are not always very clear. The same holds for the factors that are supposed to be important in different stages of educational change, outlined by Fullan (1991), and for his ideas about the essential elements in educational change at classroom level (beliefs, curriculum materials, and teaching approaches). Even though these ideas are derived from school improvement practice, their importance and their potential effects are not accounted for in detail, and have not yet been studied in research. A contribution to theory development is the generic framework for school improvement provided by Hopkins (1996). In this framework, three major components are depicted: educational givens, a strategic dimension, and a capacity-building dimension. Educational givens cannot be changed easily. Givens can be external to the school (such as an external impetus for change) and internal (such as the school’s background, organization, and values). The strategic dimension refers to the competency of a school to set its priorities for further development, to define student learning goals and teacher development, and to choose a strategy to achieve these goals successfully. The capacity-building dimension refers to the need to focus on conditions for classroom practice and for school development during the various stages of improvement. Finally, the school culture has a central place in the framework. Changes in the school culture will support teaching–learning processes which will, in turn, improve student outcomes (Hopkins 1996). Despite the obvious gaps in theory development and testing in the field of school improvement, there are already some elements of a knowledge base. By trying to improve schools, knowledge on the implementation of classroom and school effectiveness factors in educational practice has become available. This has provided the possibility of studying, to 13573

School Impro
ement different degrees, the influence of factors and variables on educational outcomes (Stoll and Fink 1994).

3. The Link Between School Impro
ement and School Effecti
eness School effectiveness and school improvement conjoin because of their mutual interest, although their actual relationship may be very complicated (Reynolds et al. 1993, Creemers and Reezigt 1997). The major aim in the field of school effectiveness was always to link theory and research on the one hand, and practice and policy-making on the other. School improvement can be fostered by a knowledge base covering what works in education that can be applied in educational practice. The combination of theory, research, and development is not new in education. Almost all movements start out to make knowledge useful for educational practice and policy-making, or state their goal in terms of supplementing policy practice with a knowledge base supplied by theory and research from a cyclical point of view. The next step is to use practical knowledge for further advances in theory and research. In this way, research and improvement can have a relationship as a surplus benefit for both. School effectiveness has led to major shifts in educational policy in many countries by emphasizing the accountability of schools and the responsibility of educators to provide all children with opportunities for high achievement, thereby enhancing the need for school improvement (Mortimore 1991). School effectiveness has pointed to the need for school improvement, in particular by focusing on alterable school factors. School improvement projects were necessary to find out how schools could become more effective. These projects were often supposed to implement effective school factors in educational practice (Scheerens 1992) and, in doing so, could yield useful feedback for school effectiveness. School improvement might point to inaccurate conceptions of effectiveness, such as the notion of linearity or one-dimensionality (Hargreaves 1995). In addition, school improvement might give more insight into the strategies for changing schools successfully in the direction of effectiveness. The relatively short history of school effectiveness and improvement shows some successes of this linkage. Research results are being used in educational practice, sometimes with good results. School improvement findings are sometimes used as input for new research. Renihan and Renihan state that ‘the effective schools research has paid off, if for no other reason than that it has been the catalyst for school improvement efforts’ (Renihan and Renihan 1989, p. 365). Most authors, however, are more skeptical (Reynolds et al. 1993). Fullan states that school effectiveness ‘has mostly focused on narrow educational goals, and 13574

the research itself tells us almost nothing about how an effective school got that way and if it stayed effective’ (Fullan 1991, p. 22). Stoll and Fink (1992) think that school effectiveness should have done more to make clear how schools can become effective. According to Mortimore (1991), a lot of improvement efforts have failed because research results were not translated adequately into guidelines for educational practice. Changes were sometimes forced upon a school, and when the results were disappointing the principals and teachers were blamed. Teddlie and Roberts (1993) suggest that effectiveness and improvement representatives do not cooperate automatically, but tend to see each other as competitors. Links between school effectiveness and school improvement were stronger in some countries than in others (Reynolds 1996). In the early years of school effectiveness, links were strong in the USA and never quite disappeared there. Many districts have implemented effective schools programs in recent years, but research in the field has decreased at the same time, and, because of this, school improvement is sometimes considered ‘a remarkable example of (…) over-use of a limited research base’ (Stringfield 1995, p. 70). Reynolds et al. (2000) came to the conclusion based on the analyses of Dutch, British, and North American initiatives that the following principles are fundamental to a successful merger of school effectiveness and school improvement: (a) a focus on teaching, learning, and the classroom level; (b) use of data for decision making; (c) a focus on pupil outcomes; (d) addressing schools’ internal conditions; (e) enhanced consistency (through implementation of ‘reliable’ programs); and (f) pulling levers to affect all levels, both within and beyond the school. Recently, several projects (Stoll et al. 1996, Hill 1998) have started to integrate school effectiveness and school improvement. They form successful examples of the concept of sustained interactivity. These projects all share a clear definition of the problem that should be overcome, in terms of student outcomes and classroom strategies, to enhance these outcomes within the context of the school. Often, the outcomes are clearly specified for one school subject or elements of a school subject, such as comprehensive reading. The content of the projects is a balanced mix of the effectiveness knowledge base and the concepts from school improvement. The projects have detailed designs, both for the implementation of school improvement and for evaluation in terms of empirical research. By means of a research component integrated into the projects right from the start, it is possible to test effectiveness hypotheses, and to evaluate improvement outcomes at the same time. The use of control groups is essential in this respect, and various projects now incorporate control groups or choose to compare

School Impro
ement their results to norm groups on the basis of nationwide tests. Also, many projects are longitudinal in their designs. Although most integrated projects have started recently, some of them have been running for almost a decade now, and they have been disseminated to various educational contexts. Therefore, long-term effects and context-specific effects can easily be tracked by means of follow-up measurement. An additional feature of projects which last for several subsequent years is the possibility of testing the effectiveness of school improvement strategies and changing strategies whenever necessary. The Halton’s Effective Schools Project illustrates this feature clearly (Stoll and Fink 1996, Stoll et al. 1996). The project started in Canada in 1986 with the intention of implementing British effectiveness knowledge in Halton district schools. It soon became clear that the effectiveness knowledge base in itself would not automatically lead to changes in educational practice. Over the years, the project paid a lot of attention to questions on the processes of change in schools. It focuses on the planning process in schools, the teaching and learning processes in classrooms, and staff development. Successful changes turned out to be enhanced by a collaborative school culture, a shared vision of what the school will stand for in the future, and a climate in which decisions are made in a transparent way. Based on their Halton experiences, Stoll and Fink (1996) have developed a conceptual model which links school effectiveness and school improvement through the school development planning process. The model blends the school effectiveness knowledge base with knowledge about change processes in schools. The school development planning process is at the center of the model. The process is considered to be multilayered. Two outer layers comprise invitational leadership, and continuing conditions and cultural norms. The inner cycle layer is formed by the ongoing planning cycle of assessment, planning, implementation, and evaluation of educational processes. The two central core layers refer to a strong focus on the teaching–learning processes and the curriculum, and the students in the school. The school development planning process is influenced by the context of the school and foundations such as research findings, and, in turn, influences intermediate outcomes at teacher and school levels, as well as student outcomes. Finally, the planning process is influenced by several partners (external agencies, educational networks). In the UK, 66 percent of improvement programs now pursue goals which fit into the school effectiveness tradition of student outcomes (Reynolds et al. 1996). However, it is still not clear whether real improvements will always occur. The IQEA project (Improving the Quality of Education for All, Hopkins et al. 1994) started in 1991 as a staff development project. Gradually, a focus on classroom improvement and its effects on student achievement took over. The project does

not stop with the implementation of priorities for development, but also pays explicit attention to conditions that will sustain the changes. These are staff development, involvement, leadership, coordination, inquiry and reflection, and collaborative planning (Stoll et al. 1996). In addition, when the classroom became the center of attention, the project specified the classroom-level conditions that are necessary for effective teaching and student achievement. These are authentic relationships, rules and boundaries, teacher’s repertoire, reflection on teaching, resources and preparation, and pedagogic partnerships. Other promising projects in the UK are the Lewisham School Improvement Project and the Hammersmith and Fulham LEA Project. Both projects actively try to enhance student achievement by means of school effectiveness knowledge, and both projects are cooperating with a research institute (Reynolds et al. 1996). Recent theories about school improvement stress the self-regulation of schools. Self-regulation assumes target setting and embodies the behavioral concept of mechanisms, feedback, and reinforcement. This selfregulatory approach to school improvement can be combined with the analogous self-regulatory feedback loops in educational effectiveness, which are again further elaborated in the upward spiraling school development planning process (Stoll and Fink 1996, Hopkins 1995). The analysis of school improvement efforts over a period of time resulted in a distinction of several types of schools (effective vs. ineffective and improving vs. declining). Stoll and Fink (1998) and Hopkins et al. (1999) give descriptions of those schools and the features of the change processes going on. The declining effective school (the ‘cruising school’) has received particular attention because it points at the difficulties of keeping educational quality at the same level (Fink 1999). See also: Educational Evaluation: Overview; Educational Innovation, Management of; Educational Institutions and Society; Educational Policy: Comparative Perspective; Educational Policy, Mechanisms for the Development of; Educational Research and School Reform; School Administration as a Field of Inquiry; School Effectiveness Research; School Management

Bibliography Creemers B P M, Reezigt G J 1997 School effectiveness and school improvement: Sustaining links. School Effecti
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ement 10: 269–95 Fullan M G 1991 The New Meaning of Educational Change. Teachers College Press, New York

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ement in an Era of Change. Teachers College Press, New York Hopkins D, Reynolds D, Gray J 1999 Moving on and moving up: Confronting the complexities of school improvement in the improving schools project. Educational Research and E
aluation 5: 22–40 Mortimore P 1991 School effectiveness research: Which way at the crossroads? School Effecti
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e Schooling: Research, Theory and Practice. Cassell, London Stoll L, Fink D 1992 Effecting school change: The Halton approach. School Effecti
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ement Work: A Conceptual Guide to Practice. ACCO, Leuven, Belgium

B. P. M. Creemers

School Learning for Transfer Most of what is taught in school is expected to affect learning and performance that transcend the mastery of those subjects: one learns addition to prepare the grounds for the study of multiplication, science to understand the surrounding physical and natural world, and history to gain a sense of identity and a deeper understanding of current events. Such expectations concern the transfer of what is learned in school in one domain to other realms of learning and activity, a spillover of learning that functions like a ripple effect. Thus, the study of topic A is supposed to facilitate the study of B, make it easier, faster, or better understood relative to when B is learned without the learning of A preceding it. Two approaches to the study of transfer have dominated the field since the beginning of the twentieth century: transfer as a function of similar elements between A and B, and as a function of the understanding of general principles that are transferable to a variety of situations. The history of research on transfer shows how these two major principles underlie the development of the field, even when other basic assumptions about learning and thinking have recently been challenged.

1. Two Basic Approaches The expectation for transfer has as long a history as institutional learning itself. Plato argued that the study of abstract reasoning assists the solution of daily problems. Similarly, the debates about Talmudic and Biblical texts in ancient times were argued to ‘sharpen minds.’ The scientific study of transfer has a long history as well; it dates back to the beginning of the twentieth century with the studies by Thorndike and Woodworth (1901) in which the idea that Latin and other taxing school subjects developed one’s general ‘faculties of mind’ was challenged. The expected transfer was not found; mastery of Latin, Greek, or geometry did not facilitate either performance or efficiency in learning other subjects. Thorndike’s

School Learning for Transfer findings led to his formulation of the theory of ‘identical elements’: transfer from A to B is likely to occur the more elements are common to both. It followed that transfer can take place only in the relatively rare case when there is clear and apparent similarity between the constituent elements of the learned topics. Thus, one would have to learn a host of independent issues and procedures as no transfer in the absence of identical elements should be expected. Thorndike’s theory was countered by a more cognitively-oriented and Gestalt-flavored alternative that emphasized the meaningful conceptual understanding of underlying principles which then could be thoughtfully applied to new situations. The more general the learned principle, the farther could it be transferred to new instances. Judd (1908) had his subjects learn to shoot at targets submerged in water after having learned principles of light refraction in water. Having learned these principles, subjects were much better at hitting the targets than those who have only practiced the activity. As we shall see below, the two approaches—transfer as a matter of common elements and transfer as a matter of higher order cognitive processes of understanding and abstraction—although having undergone profound modifications and developments over the years, continue to this day to dominate the field.

2. Paucity of Findings Research on transfer as well as practitioners’ expectations for transfer are characterized by an ongoing pendulum-like oscillation between the two approaches. Such oscillation is not so much the result of evidence that supports both approaches as it is a function of the paucity of findings clearly supporting either one of them. Indeed, one of the hallmarks of the field is the great discrepancy between the expectation for transfer from school learning to the acquisition of new subjects or to the handling of daily events and the findings from controlled transfer studies. The latter often do not yield the transfer findings one would have expected. A typical case is the study by Pea and Kurland (1984) who have found that children learning LOGO programming showed no advantage in their ability to plan over children who did not master LOGO. Transfer, when at all found in carefully carried out studies, appears to be highly specific, as when a particular procedure or principle is applied in a new situation which bears great and apparent (often analogical) similarity to the learning material, and when the process is accompanied by such facilitation as coaching, specific guidance and cueing (see Bransford and Schwartz (1999, Cox (1997, for detailed reviews). Such findings would seem to support Thorndike’s theory and pessimism about transfer, as summarized by Detterman (1993): ‘In short, from

studies that claim to show transfer and that don’t show transfer, there is no evidence to contradict Thorndike’s general conclusions: Transfer is rare, and its likelihood of occurrence is directly related to the similarity between the two situations’ (p.15).

3. Transfer on the Rebound Whereas Thorndike’s pessimism seemed to have won the day for a while, the research tradition of Judd (1908), with its emphasis on comprehension and general (nonspecific) transfer gradually showed its strength. As research of this tradition tended to show, when relevant principles or strategies are mindfully attended to, or better yet—either abstracted by learners and\or metacognitively monitored—transfer to a variety of instances can be obtained even in the absence of apparent common elements. At the same time, other research on the transfer of skills, ostensibly still in a tradition more similar to that originated by Thorndike (Thorndike and Woodworth 1901), has also yielded positive results. Thus, for example, Singley and Anderson (1989) have shown that when training to near automaticity of discrete skill components is carried out, transfer from one task (e.g., a line editor) to another (text editor) can be virtually perfect. Also more field-based research found support for impressive transfer from the study of universitytaught disciplines: Nisbett et al. (1993) have shown that the study of psychology, and also to a lesser extent medicine (but not law or chemistry), improve students’ abilities to apply statistical and methodological rules of inference to both scientific and daily problems.

4. The High and the Low Roads to Transfer The renewed success of the two lines of research, often addressing higher order cognitions and information processing exercized by multiple activities, suggests that transfer may not be a unitary process as the two approaches differ in important ways. Observing these differences, Salomon and Perkins (1989) have developed a theory to account for the possibility that transfer takes either one of two routes (or a combination thereof), described as the high road and the low road of transfer. The low road reflects to an extent the Thorndikian line, and more recently that of Anderson’s skill-acquisition and transfer theory. It is taken when skills, behaviors, or action tendencies are repeatedly practiced in a variety of situations until they are mastered to near-automaticity and are quite effortlessly applied to situations whose resemblance to the learning situations is apparent and easily perceived. Learning to drive and learning to read are two cases in point as is transfer from one text editor to another as studied by Singely and Anderson (1989). Other candidates for low road transfer are attitudes, 13577

School Learning for Transfer cognitive styles, dispositions, and belief systems the application of which to new situations is rarely a mindful process. In contrast, the high road to transfer is characterized by the process of mindful abstraction of knowledge elements that afford logical abstraction: principles, rules, concepts, procedures, and the like. It is this mindfully abstracted, decontextualized idea (‘ethnic oppression may lead to revolt’) that becomes a candidate for transfer from one particular instance (the Austro-Hungarian Empire) to another (Russia and Cechenia). Simon (1980) commented in this respect that ‘To secure substantial transfer of skill acquired in the environment of one task, learners need to be made explicitly aware of these skills, abstracted from their specific task content’ (p. 82, emphasis added). There is ample evidence to support the role of the high road in obtaining transfer. One of the studies by Gick and Holyoak (1983) illustrates this point. Participants who were given two stories and were asked to write a summary of how the two stories resembled each other (that is, their common moral), showed a 91 percent transfer to the solution of another story, relative to 30 percent transfer of a non-summary group. Bassok (1990), showed that mastering algebraic abstractions (plus examples) allowed students to view physics problems as particular instances to which the more abstract algebraic operations could be applied. Physics, on the other hand, is too particular and thus students do not expect and do not recognize any possible relationship between it and algebraic operations. Research also directs attention to the role played by self-regulation and metacognitions in the process of mindful abstraction and transfer via the high road. Following the studies and review of Campione et al. (1982), Salomon et al. (1989) have shown that students interacting with a semi-intelligent computerized Reading Partner that provides metacognitive-like guidance, tend to internalize that guidance and transfer it to new reading as well as to writing situations. The high road\low road theory sheds light on the many failures of obtaining transfer in controlled studies. Close examination of such studies suggests that in many cases neither the low road of repeated practice nor the high road of mindful abstraction was taken. Not enough time is allocated for practice for the former, and not enough attention is given for mindful abstraction for the latter. As a consequence, neither near automatic transfer on the basis of easily recognized common elements can be attained, nor farther transfer on the basis of metacognitively guided mindful abstraction.

5. New Approaches Research on transfer, until recently, did not challenge the basic paradigm and conception of transfer as a 13578

process involving change of one’s performance on a new task as a result of his or her prior performance on a preceding and different task. Such a conception of transfer has recently become challenged on the basis of new theories of learning, the role of activity, and the place of cognitions therein. These challenges can be arranged along a dimension ranging from the least to the more radical, relative to traditional notions of transfer. Bransford and Schwartz (1999), coming from a mainstream tradition of cognitive science applied to instructional issues, argue that the current ways of demonstrating transfer are more appropriate for studying only full-blown expertise. According to them, ‘There are no opportunities for … [students] to demonstrate their abilities to learn to solve new problems by seeking help from other resources such as text or colleagues or by trying things out, receiving feedback, and getting opportunities to revise’ (p. 68). They recommend replacing the typical transfer task which they call ‘sequestered problem solving’ (SPS) by a conception of transfer as ‘preparation for future learning’ (PFL). Thus, one would measure transfer not by having students apply previously acquired knowledge or skill to new situations, demonstrating either knowledge how or knowledge that something, but rather by demonstrating knowledge with—thinking, perceiving, and judging with whatever knowledge and tools are available even if that knowledge is not consciously recalled. In other words, transfer would be expected to become demonstrated by way of ‘people’s abilities to learn new information and relate their learning to previous experiences’ (Bransford and Schwartz (1999, p. 69). An illustration of the above can be seen in a study in which college and fifth grade students did not differ in their utilization of previous knowledge and educational experiences for the creation of a statewide plan to recover the bald eagle. This is a typical SPS way of measuring transfer, suggesting in this case that previous educational experiences did not transfer to the handling of the new problem. However, when the students were asked to generate questions that would need to be studied in preparation for the creation of a recovery plan (applying a PFL approach), striking differences were found between the two age groups in favor of the college students. Focusing on different issues, the two groups showed how, knowingly or not, previous learning has facilitated the generation of the list of questions to be asked. The use of tools and information resources would also show how previous learning of skills and knowledge becomes actively involved in the process of solving a new problem. While Bransford and Schwartz (1999) continue to adhere to the traditional conception of learning as knowledge acquisition and to cognitions as general and transferable tools of the mind, others have developed an alternative, socio-cultural approach according to which neither the mind and its content

School Learning for Transfer (e.g., arithmetic algorithms) should be treated as a neutral toolbox ready for application wherever suitable, nor should knowledge-in-use and social context of activity be taken as two independent entities. Learning is a matter of participation in a community of learners, thus knowledge is not a noun denoting possession but rather a verb denoting the active process of knowing-as-construction within a social context of acti
ity. One underlying assumption is that learner, activity, and content become united through culturally constructed tools. A second assumption is that learning is highly situated in a particular activity context of participation, and its outcomes are ‘becoming better attuned to constraints and affordances of activity systems so that the learner’s contribution to the interaction is more successful’ (Greeno 1997, p. 12). Seen in this light, the traditional cogniti
ist concern with the transferability of acquired knowledge across tasks becomes, from the newer situati
e perspective, an issue concerned with the task and the ‘consistency or inconsistency of patterns of participatory processes across situations’ (Greeno (1997, p. 12). An important practical implication of this approach is that one would need to take into consideration the kinds of participatory activities to which school-based learning might be expected to transfer, rather than expect decontextualized school materials to transfer all on its own to other tasks, situations, and activities. Students are likely to restructure new situations to fit their previous practices and thus make the old available for transfer to the new. Illustrating this approach to learning and cognition, Saxe (1991), showed that Brazilian children’s mathematical experience as street vendors affected their math learning when later on they became enrolled in school, and vice versa. ‘[I]n recurring activities like practices of candy selling and schooling—contexts in which knowledge is well learned and in which similar problems emerge on a repeated basis—transfer is a protracted process. In their repeated efforts to solve practice-linked problems, individuals attempt to structure problem contexts in coherent and more adequate ways’ (p. 179). The new approaches to transfer clearly deviate from the traditional views. They suggest new ways of measuring transfer, and more radically—challenge traditional assumptions by treating knowledge, skill, task, activity, and context as one participatory activity. By so doing, they emphasize the uniqueness of each activity setting. An important aspect of this approach is its ability to incorporate within the idea of participatory activity motivational and dispositional elements also. These elements have so far been neglected by much research on transfer, although they may be crucial for students’ choice to treat each situation as different, or as allowing students to exercise familiar patterns of participation. Still, it appears that despite these important novelties, the principles of transfer as a function of similarity between situations (or activities) and of depth of

understanding general principles (e.g., of useful participation in a community of learners) have not yet been replaced but only redefined. See also: Competencies and Key Competencies: Educational Perspective; Learning Theories and Educational Paradigms; Learning to Learn; Metacognitive Development: Educational Implications; School Effectiveness Research; Situated Learning: Out of School and in the Classroom; Thorndike, Edward Lee (1874–1949); Transfer of Learning, Cognitive Psychology of

Bibliography Bassok M 1990 Transfer to domain-specific problem solving procedures. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Learning Memory and Cognition 6: 522–33 Bransford J, Schwartz D 1999 Rethinking transfer: A simple proposal with multiple implications. Re
iew of Educational Research 24: 61–100 Campione J C, Brown A L, Ferrara R A 1982 Mental retardation and intelligence: Contributions from research with retarded children. Intelligence 2: 279–304 Cox B D 1997 A rediscovery of the active learner in adaptive contexts: A developmental-historical analysis of transfer of training. Educational Psychologist 32: 41–55 Detterman D R 1993 The case for prosecution: Transfer as an epiphenomenon. In: Detterman D K, Sternberg R J (eds.) Transfer on Trial: Intelligence, Cognition and Instruction. Ablex, Norwood, NJ Gick M L, Holyoak K J 1983 Schema induction and analogical transfer. Cogniti
e Psychology 15: 1–38 Greeno J G 1997 Response: On claims that answer the wrong questions. Educational Researcher 26: 5–17 Judd C H 1908 The relation of special training to general intelligence. Educational Re
iew 36: 28–42 Nisbett R E, Fong G T, Lehman D R, Cheng P W 1993 Teaching reasoning. In: Nisbett R E (ed.) Rules for Reasoning. Erlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ Pea R D, Kurland D M 1984 On the cognitive effects of learning computer programming. New Ideas in Psychology 2: 37–68 Salomon G, Globerson T, Guterman E 1989 The computer as a zone of proximal development: Internalizing reading-related metacognitions from a Reading Partner. Journal of Educational Psychology 81: 620–7 Salomon G, Perkins D N 1989 Rocky roads to transfer: Rethinking mechanisms of a neglected phenomenon. Educational Psychology 24: 113–42 Saxe G B 1991 Culture and Cogniti
e De
elopment: Studies in Mathematical Understanding. Erlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ Simon H A 1980 Problem solving and education. In: Tuma D T, Reif R (eds.) Problem Sol
ing and Education: Issues in Teaching and Research. Erlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ Singley M K, Anderson J R 1989 The Transfer of Cogniti
e Skill. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA Thorndike E L, Woodworth R S 1901 The influence of improvement in one mental function upon the efficacy of other functions. Psychological Re
iew 8: 247–61

G. Salomon Copyright # 2001 Elsevier Science Ltd. All rights reserved.

International Encyclopedia of the Social & Behavioral Sciences

13579

ISBN: 0-08-043076-7

School Management

School Management School management is in considerable disarray, if not turmoil, and is likely to remain so in the first decade of the twenty-first century. This is partly a reflection of sweeping transformations in society, mirrored in developments in education generally and in schools in particular. It also reflects failure to effect a powerful link between school management as a field of study and school management as a field of practice, so that each informs and influences the other. More fundamental is the concern that, in each instance, management is not connected to learning as well as it should be.

1. Definition of School Management Disarray is evident in the matter of definition. In some nations, notably the USA, administration is used to describe a range of functions performed by the most senior people in an organization, with management a more limited, sometimes routine set of tasks, often performed by those in supporting roles. A conceptual difficulty relates to the distinction between leadership and management. The work of Kotter (1990) is helpful in resolving the issue. Leadership is concerned with change and entails the three broad processes of establishing direction, aligning people, and motivating and inspiring. Management is concerned with the achievement of outcomes, and the three broad processes of planning and budgeting, organizing and staffing, and controlling and problemsolving. These difficulties are reflected in the role ambiguity of those who hold senior positions in schools, notably principals or head teachers. There is a generally held view that their work entails both leadership and management. They should certainly be leaders. In some instances managers will support them. There is concern when they act solely as managers. Kotter (1990) offers a contingent view that is as helpful for schools as it is for organizations in general. He contends that the emphasis and balance in leadership and management are contingent on two variables: the amount of change that is required and the complexity of the operation. Complex schools in a turbulent environment require high levels of leadership and management. Schools that are relatively simple but are faced with major change require leadership more than management. Schools that are complex in stable circumstances require management more than leadership. Simple schools in stable settings may require little of each.

2. School Management as a Field of Practice There are three important developments in school management that are evident in almost every nation 13580

(Caldwell and Spinks 1998). Schools and systems of schools vary in the extent to which each has unfolded. The first is the shift of authority and responsibility to schools in systems of public education. Centrally determined frameworks of curriculum, standards, and accountabilities are still in force but schools have a considerable degree of freedom in how they will meet expectations. This development is known as schoolbased management or local management or selfmanagement, and is frequently accompanied by the creation of school councils, school boards, or other structures for school-based decision-making. Comprehensive reform along these lines is most evident in Australia, the UK, Canada, New Zealand and the USA, but most other nations have begun the process or are planning it. Reasons for decentralization vary but are generally consistent with the changing view of the role of government that gathered momentum in the final decade of the twentieth century. As applied to education, this view holds that governments should be mainly concerned with setting direction, providing resources, and holding schools to account for outcomes. They should also provide schools with the authority and responsibility to determine the particular ways they will meet the needs of their students, within a centrally determined framework. The second development arises from higher expectations for schools as governments realise that the knowledge and skill of their people are now the chief resource if nations are to succeed in a global economy. There is recognition of the high social cost of failure and the high economic cost of providing a world-class system of education. As a result, there is unprecedented concern for outcomes, and governments have worked individually and in concert to introduce systems of testing at various stages of primary and secondary schooling to monitor outcomes and provide a basis for target setting in bringing about improvement. In several countries, notably the UK and some parts of the USA, rankings of schools are published in newspapers. Comparisons of national performance are now possible through projects such as the Third International Mathematics and Science Study (Martin and Kelly 1996). The third development is change in the nature of schooling itself. Driven to a large extent by advances in information and communications technology, much of the learning that in the past could only occur in the classroom can now occur at anytime and anywhere there is access to a networked computer. Students and their teachers have access to a vast amount of information. Interactive multi-media have enriched and individualized learning on a remarkable scale. This development is not uniform across all schools or across all nations, and disparities are a matter of concern. There is growing anxiety on the part of government that structures for the delivery of public education that

School Management have survived for a century or more may no longer be adequate for the task. Charter schools made their appearance in Canada and the USA in the 1990s, and the number increased very rapidly, even though they are still a small fraction of the total number of schools. Charter schools receive funding from the public purse but are otherwise independent, operating outside the constraints of a school district. A schools-for-profit movement gathered momentum around the same time, with public funding enhanced by private investment through the offering of shares on the stock exchange, as instanced by the pioneering Edison Schools. In the UK, the Blair Government privatized the support services of several local education authorities and established a framework for public–private partnerships in the management of publicly owned schools. The number of private schools is increasing in most countries, reflecting growing affluence and loss of faith in the public sector. A contentious policy, gaining ground in a number of countries, is the provision of public funds (often described as ‘vouchers’) allowing parents to access private schools when public schools do not meet expectations. Taken together, these developments have created conditions that call for high levels of leadership and management at the school level. Schools are more complex and are experiencing greater change than ever before. A particular challenge is to prepare, select, place, appraise, and reward those who serve, and there is growing concern in some countries about the quality and quantity of those who seek appointment. Some governments have created or are planning new institutions to address this concern, illustrated by the establishment in England in 2000 of the National College for School Leadership. There is evidence of a loss of faith in the university as an institution to shape and inform approaches to school management, and to prepare those who will serve as leaders and managers in the future.

3. School Management as a Field of Study School management has emerged relatively recently as a sub-field of study within the broader field of educational management (administration). There were few formal programs and little research on the phenomenon until the 1950s. Prior to that, approaches to the management of schools paralleled those in industry. Indeed, it was generally recognized that management in education was largely a mirror image of industry, with the creation of large centralized and bureaucratized systems of public education. The knowledge base was drawn from the industrial sector. Departments of educational administration made their appearance in universities in the US in the midtwentieth century and soon proliferated. They were

established in the UK soon after, with many other nations following suit, drawing on the US and, to a lesser extent, the UK for their intellectual underpinnings. The first quarter-century, from the early1950s to about the mid-1970s was characterized by efforts to build theory in educational management, modeling to a large degree the discipline approach of the behavioral sciences. In the USA, Educational Administration Quarterly was an attempt to provide for education what Administrati
e Science Quarterly has done for administration (management). In the UK, a seminal work edited by two pioneers in the field had the title Educational Administration and the Social Sciences (Baron and Taylor 1969). Separate sub-disciplines were created in fields such as economics, finance, governance, human relations, industrial relations, law, planning, policy, and politics. Large numbers of students enrolled, and departments of educational administration became a major source of revenue for schools of education. The theory movement in educational management was the subject of powerful attack in the mid-1970s, notably by Canadian scholar T. B. Greenfield (1975). However, it was not until the late 1980s that a systematic response was mounted by the University Council for Educational Administration in the 1987 report of the National Commission on Excellence in Educational Administration (NCEE 1987). The critique was largely directed at efforts to build a scientific theory of educational management; the separation of management from learning and teaching; and fundamental considerations of context, culture, ethics, meaning, and values. Blueprints for reform were drawn up but the field was still in ferment at the turn of the twenty-first century (see Murphy and Forsyth (1999) for a review of efforts to reform the field). Evers and Lakomski have developed a new conceptual framework (‘naturalistic coherentism’) in an effort to bring coherence to the fields of educational administration and management. Lakomski (2001) argues that leadership ought to be replaced by better conceptions of organizational learning. On a more pragmatic level, the critique of educational management as a field of study lies in its failure to impact practice on a large scale, and to assist in a timely manner the implementation of reform and the resolution of concerns. A promising approach to unifying the field is to place learning at the heart of the effort. This means that policy interest in the improvement of student outcomes should be the driver of this ‘quest for a center,’ as US scholar Joseph Murphy (1999) has described it. Murphy classified the different stages of development in the ‘profession’ of educational administration, as summarized in Table 1. Much momentum was gained in the 1990s with the establishment of the International Congress for School Effectiveness and Improvement (ICSEI), which made its mission the bringing together of policy-makers, practitioners, and researchers. The periodical School 13581

School Management Table 1 Rethinking the center for the profession of educational administration (Murphy 1999) Time frame 1820–1900 Ideology 1901–1945 Prescription 1946–1985 Behavioral science 1986– Dialectic

Center of gravity

Foundation

Engine

Philosophy Management Social sciences School improvement

Religion Administrative functions Academic disciplines Education

Values Practical knowledge Theoretical knowledge Applied knowledge

Effecti
eness and School Impro
ement quickly established itself as a leading international journal. The integration of policy, practice, and research to achieve school improvement is becoming increasingly evident, illustrated in approaches to literacy in the early elementary ( primary years). The examples of Australia and the UK are interesting in this regard. Levels of literacy were considered by governments in both nations to be unacceptably low. Implementation of approaches in the Early Literacy Research Project led to dramatic improvement in the state of Victoria, Australia. Concepts such as ‘whole school design’ emerged from this integration. Hill and Cre! vola (1999) formulated a ‘general design for improving learning outcomes’ that proved helpful in parts of Australia and the United States. It has nine elements: beliefs and understanding; leadership and coordination; standards and targets; monitoring and assessment; classroom teaching strategies; professional learning teams; school and classroom organization; intervention and special assistance; and home, school, and community partnerships. The implications are clear as far as educational management is concerned: there must be high levels of knowledge about learning and teaching and how to create designs and formulate strategies that bring about improvement. This contributes to a particularly demanding role where decentralization has occurred, as is increasingly the case in most nations.

4. The Future of School Management The picture that emerged at the dawn of the twentyfirst century is one in which school management does not stand in isolation. Leadership and management, as conceptualized by Kotter (1990) are both important, and their focus must be on learning, integrated in the notion of creating a coherent and comprehensive whole-school design. Those who serve in positions of leadership are operating in a milieu of high community expectations in which knowledge and skill are the chief determinants of a nation’s success in a global economy. Rapidly increasing costs of achieving 13582

expectations mean a capacity to work in new arrangements, including innovative public–private partnerships. High expectations mean a commitment to core values such as access, equity, and choice. All of this unfolds in an environment in which the nature of schooling is undergoing fundamental change. There are major implications for universities and other providers of programs for the preparation and professional development of school leaders. An interesting development in Victoria (Australia) and the UK is that governments are turning to the private sector to specify requirements and offer a major part of training programs. Governments in both places commissioned the Hay Group to assist in this regard. The target population in the UK is serving principals, numbering about 25,000. The program has been very highly rated by both principals and employers. The most recent contribution of the Hay Group has been the specification for Victoria of 13 competencies and capabilities for school leaders. The focus is school improvement and there are four components: (a) driving school improvement ( passion for teaching and learning, taking initiative, achieving focus); (b) delivering through people (leading the school community, holding people accountable, supporting others, maximizing school capability); (c) building commitment (contextual know-how, management of self, influencing others); and (d) creating an educational vision (analytic thinking, big picture thinking, gathering information). These developments suggest that training will be a shared responsibility in the future, with a limited role for universities unless they can form effective partnerships with the profession itself and work in association with private providers. Universities will have a crucial role to play, especially in research, but again that is likely to be in a range of strategic alliances if it is to be valued. The role of the university in philosophy and critique of school management will be more highly valued to the extent that the disjunction is minimized (between study and practice and between management and learning). A fundamental issue that awaits resolution is the extent to which those who work in school management are not weighed down by the high expectations. It was noted at the outset that applications for appointment are declining in quality and quantity. There is even a

School Outcomes: Cogniti
e Function, Achie
ements, Social Skills, and Values concern in well-funded schools in the private sector. Part of the solution is to infuse leadership and management throughout the school and generally build the capacity of all to work in the new environment. The concept of ‘knowledge management’ is likely to be become more important, so that accounting for the resources of a school will extend beyond financial and social capital to include intellectual capital in the form of the knowledge and skill of staff. This may go only part of the way, given that schools are in many respects still operating with a design for an earlier era. Innovation in design must extend to the creation of a work place that is engaging for all that work within it. What should be retained and what should be abandoned in current designs is the challenge for the first decade of the twenty-first century. Drucker’s concept of ‘organized abandonment’ (Drucker 1999) is as important for schools as it is for other organizations. See also: Educational Innovation, Management of; Management: General

Bibliography Baron G, Taylor W (eds.) 1969 Educational Administration and the Social Sciences. Athlone, London Caldwell B J, Spinks J M 1998 Beyond the Self-managing School. Falmer, London Drucker P F 1999 Management Challenges for the 21st Century. Butterworth Heinemann, Oxford Greenfield T B 1975 Theory about organizations: A new perspective and implications for schools. In: Hughes M G (ed.) Administering Education: International Challenge. Athlone, London, pp. 71–99 Hill P W, Cre! vola C A 1999 The role of standards in educational reform for the 21st century. In: Marsh D D (ed.) Preparing our Schools for the 21st Century. ASCD Yearbook 1999. Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development, Alexandria, VA Kotter J P 1990 A Force for Change: How Leadership Differs from Management. Free Press, New York Lakomski G 2001 Management Without Leadership: A Naturalistic Approach Towards Impro
ing Organizational Practice. Pergamon\Elsevier, Oxford, UK Martin M O, Kelly D L (eds.) 1996 Third International Mathematics and Science Study. Technical Report. Vol. 1: Design and De
elopment. Boston College, Chestnut Hill, MA Murphy J 1999 The quest for a center: Notes on the state of the profession of educational leadership. Invited paper at the Annual Meeting of the American Educational Research Association, Montreal, April Murphy J, Forsyth P (eds.) 1999 Educational Administration: A Decade of Reform. Corwin Press, Newberry Park, CA National Commission on Excellence in Educational Administration 1987 Leaders for America’s Schools. University Council for Educational Administration, Tempe, AZ

B. J. Caldwell

School Outcomes: Cognitive Function, Achievements, Social Skills, and Values Achievement in US schools is as high as it was in the mid-1970s, despite the fact that increasingly more poor and minority students are remaining in schools longer than ever. Unlike in the early 1960s, where researchers debated whether there was any impact of schooling on students’ learning, it is now accepted that schools (and especially teachers) impact student achievement. Classroom learning and school achievement broadly defined continue to grow in important ways (see, for example, Biddle et al. 1997). However, much of the recent scholarship on classroom processes has been conceptual in nature, and the associated empirical research (if any) typically involves only a few classrooms. There is considerable advocacy for certain types of classroom environments—classroom environments that are notably different from traditional instruction—but solid empirical support to show the effects of new instructional models is largely absent. Here we discuss the need for new school-based research that addresses curriculum and instructional issues in order to advance theoretical understanding of student learning in school settings. We argue that it is no longer possible to discuss ‘successful schooling’ on the basis of subject-matter outcomes alone. Effective schools research and policy discussions must also include the measurement of non-subject-matter outcomes of schooling.

1. Status of Achie
ement in Schools The state of achievement in US schools is widely debated and incorporates at least three major camps. The first contends that current school performance is lower than that of US youth from the mid-1970s and that of international contemporaries. Indeed, several publications supported by the federal government have corroborated the assertion that US schools are failing, including Nation at Risk (National Commission for Excellence in Education 1983) and Prisoners of Time (National Education Commission on Time and Learning 1994). A second camp argues that students’ performance today is as good as it was in the mid-1970s and that international comparisons are uninterpretable (Berliner and Biddle 1995). These and other researchers note that the stability of achievement has been maintained at a time when US schools are increasingly diverse and serving more minority students and those from poor homes than ever before. This camp also: (a) notes that reports of average school achievement are often highly misleading, because students’ performance varies markedly between schools; and (b) has concerns about the performance of minority students. 13583

School Outcomes: Cogniti
e Function, Achie
ements, Social Skills, and Values Importantly, there is documentable evidence not only of the stability of student achievement over time, but also of real progress. For example, in less than a decade, the number of students, including minority students, taking advanced placement tests in high schools for college credit doubled such that onefifth of US students in 1996 entered college with credits earned from testing (Good and Braden 2000). A third camp agrees with the second position, but asserts that traditional achievement standards are no longer applicable to a changing society—schools must address different, higher subject-matter standards. Although we accept the premise that some curriculum changes are probably necessary to accommodate the knowledge needs of a changing society, we have two major problems with advocates for new, higher standards. First, there has been no specification of what these new skills are and, typically, if examples are even provided, the rhetoric of higher standards essentially translates into moving content normally taught later (college calculus) to appear sooner (in high school). This position is specious, because it lacks sound theoretical and empirical support. Second, extant data suggest that achievement of students in states with ‘higher standards’ is lower than that of students in states with purported lower standards (Camilli and Firestone 1999)! We align our arguments with advocates of the second camp, and we note that there is extensive evidence to support this position—student achievement scores are stable in the face of growing student diversity (Berliner and Biddle 1995, Good and Braden 2000). However, despite strong empirical data to show that student performance has not declined, we believe there is much room for improvement. For example, schools in urban settings need to improve student subject-matter performance, and all schools need to further enhance student non-subject-matter achievement. The academic accomplishments of students in today’s schools are difficult to understand for various reasons. Here, we review several reasons why the achievement of US students is problematic.

2. Which Test is Appropriate? For one example of the difficulty of using extant assessment instruments to compare students within the USA or across cultures, one only need note the discrepancy between the measures. For example, as Bracey and Resnick (1998) report, in 1996 the National Assessment of Educational Progress (NAEP) mathematics performance indicated that only 18 percent of US fourth graders were proficient, only 2 percent were advanced, and 32 percent were below basic. In contrast, US fourth graders performed well above the average scores of the 26 countries that participated in the international TIMSS study at the fourth-grade 13584

level. Which test is the best descriptor? Are US students above average in fourth-grade mathematics, or not? This issue of ‘which test’ is embedded in US testing, as well. For example, in New York state there has been a raging debate about the appropriateness of a state-mandated test (i.e., in relation to other measures, such as advanced placement tests).

3. Problems with Curriculum, Theory, and Test Alignment Other factors also limit efforts to relate the implemented curriculum with student achievement. For example, in mathematics, a current ‘theoretical’ recommendation is to avoid instruction that is a mile wide and an inch deep (i.e., in terms of the breadth and depth of curriculum concepts covered). Those who advise teachers about this problem apparently do not worry about the opposite problem—creating a curriculum that is four inches wide and a mile deep! Aligning standardized achievement tests with curriculum implementation is vital for meaningful interpretation of student scores. Appropriately, achievement tests should assess the philosophical orientation of the curriculum. Then, other tests and research can be used to assess the utility of a curriculum for various purposes (i.e., do various curricula have different effects on long-term memory of the curriculum taught or on students’ ability to transfer ideas learned in a curriculum to solve new problems?). Finally, curriculum writers often do not understand the learning theory that undergirds particular instructional practices or goals. Some curriculum theorists do not appear to understand that behavioral models are powerful when dealing with factual and conceptual knowledge (and constructivist models are exceedingly weak in this area). Also, they often fail to understand that information-processing models (cognitive science) are more powerful than behavioral or constructivist principles at addressing wide horizontal transfer of academic concepts and authentic problem solving. In addition, in applying constructivist principles, many curriculum experts do not even recognize the differences among constructivist theories. Despite the difficulties associated with assessment, instruments, and the curricula, and instructional alignment with achievement outcomes, there are data to suggest that teachers and schools can make a difference in student achievement.

4. Effecti
e Teachers The question that was problematic is the mid1970s—‘Do teachers make a difference in student learning?’—can now be answered with a definite ‘yes’ (Weinert and Helmke 1995). There are clear data to

School Outcomes: Cogniti
e Function, Achie
ements, Social Skills, and Values illustrate that some teachers notably outperform other teachers in helping similar students to learn the type of material historically measured on standardized achievement tests. It is not only possible to identify effective teachers on this useful but limited measure of student learning (e.g., see Good et al. 1983), but also research has illustrated that the practices of ‘successful’ teachers could be taught to other teachers. As one instance of this research base, the Missouri Mathematics Program was successful in improving students’ performance in mathematics. However, a series of research studies in this program found that teachers who were involved in the training program implemented the intended program une
enly. Also, not surprisingly, higher levels of program implementation were associated with higher levels of student mathematical performance. Importantly, some of the ‘resistance’ to implementing the Missouri Mathematics Program was due to teachers’ beliefs about mathematics and how it should be taught (Good et al. 1983). Teachers’ beliefs are a key, but often overlooked, point in school reform. And, as Randi and Corno (1997) found, failure to take teachers’ ideas into account lowers the impact of many reform interventions. Many aspects of teaching and learning are still problematic. Although there are numerous plausible case examples of teachers who impact students’ ability to think and to apply knowledge, there is still debate about how teachers obtain these ‘higher order’ outcomes and whether other teachers can be educated in ways that allow them to achieve comparable effects on their students. Unfortunately, research on teachers’ roles in helping students to develop thinking and problem-solving skills has in recent times been limited to case-study research. Further, research that helps teachers to expand—and assess—their capacity for impacting students’ thinking abilities has been inert.

5. Effecti
e Schools There is some evidence that schools (serving similar populations of students) have more effect on student achievement (as measured by conventional standardized achievement tests) than do other schools (e.g., Good and Weinstein 1986). However, unlike the correlational and experimental research on teacher effects, the early research base describing ‘effective schools’ was sparse and questionable. Teddlie and Stringfield’s (1993) longitudinal study in Louisiana has provided strong evidence that schools make a difference. They found that schools serving similar populations of students had different ‘climates’ and that these school differences were associated with differential student achievement. In general, the study confirmed many of the arguments that school effects researchers had made previously. Interestingly, in their

eight-year study, about one-half of the schools retained their relative effectiveness during the time period (stability rates were similar for schools that had initially been defined as effective or ineffective). More work on this issue is warranted. There still have not been successful and replicated studies to show that factors associated with ‘effective’ schools can be implemented in other schools in ways that enhance student achievement. Although there are notable examples that schools can be transformed, there is comparatively little research to see if this knowledge can be used to improve other schools.

6. Comprehensi
e School Programs In recent years, intervention using components of previous teacher and school effects research and emerging ideas (e.g., cooperative student groups) have been combined in ‘comprehensive school programs’ designed to transform all aspects of schooling at the same time (including governance, structure, instruction, home schooling, communication, curriculum, and evaluation!). Although these broad interventions offer potential, it should be noted that the theoretical assumptions and congruence of these programs have not been assessed. Some programs appear to have a serious misalignment between program components. For example, as McCaslin and Good (1992) noted, some schools emphasize a behavioral approach to classroom management (‘do as you are told’) and a constructivist approach to the curriculum (‘think and argue your conception’). Recent school intervention efforts have focused upon the impact of broad programs on student achievement. Typically, research includes no observational data, and thus there is no evidence of what parts of the program are implemented and\or whether the program parts that are presented represent a theoretically integrated program or a ‘patchwork quilt’ of separate and conflicting program parts. Further, the more complex and comprehensive the intervention model, the more likely teachers will alter program parts (often permanently). These ‘teachable’ moments go unnoticed by reformers. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there is growing consensus that such programs have not had consistent, demonstrable effects on students’ achievement (Slavin 1999).

7. Little Support for New Research In the past decade, policy leaders have tended to agree with advocates of camp one about the effectiveness of schools. Those in camp one (and who believe that schools are failing radically) have been able to convince policymakers to invest widely in charter and voucher plans, even in the absence of any convincing 13585

School Outcomes: Cogniti
e Function, Achie
ements, Social Skills, and Values pilot data. To these advocates, both the problem and solution are evident. Those in the second camp (stable student achievement over time) have been ‘represented’ by researchers attempting to implement comprehensive school reform. Unfortunately, as noted above, such research attempts fail to show the effects of program implementation. This group of researchers does not question the knowledge base sufficiently and hence fails to develop research designs that could improve its conceptions of ‘good practice.’ Those who fall into the third camp (new societal requirements mandating new processes and outcomes of schooling) are prepared to reject extant theory and research on the basis that it is outdated and irrelevant. Indeed, it is not only that monolithic state-mandated standardized tests have gotten in the way of scientific research, but also that there is a growing willingness of professional groups to advocate desirable teaching processes on theoretical grounds alone. Prestigious groups, such as the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics (NCTM), have encouraged curriculum development without advocacy for research on instruction and have encouraged teachers to teach less and to use more student group work. Although it is perhaps the case that at an aggregated level, teachers as a group should teach less, the real issue is about when teachers should teach and when students should explore alone or with other students in small or large groups.

8. Controllable and Uncontrollable Influences on Student Learning It has become better understood in the last 25 years of the twentieth century that schools can influence students’ learning independent of home background. However, it is also better understood that the effects of schools are mediated by other factors. Bracey and Resnick (1998) argue that many factors impacting students are within the control of the school district, including: aligning textbooks with standards; aligning the broader curriculum with standards; employing high-quality teachers and providing them with appropriate professional development; and having modern textbooks and laboratory equipment. Although these factors are controllable in theory, it should be noted that some school districts have considerably fewer resources to work with than do other districts. It seems unconscionable that all schools do not receive these controllable resources, which are known to impact achievement. Bracey and Resnick (1998) have argued that there are various out-of-school factors that can influence student achievement, including: teenage pregnancy rates; percentage of female-headed households; poverty rate; parental and maternal educational levels;thepercentageofstudentsforwhomEnglishisnot their native language; number of violent incidents per 13586

year; and number of annual policy visits\disciplinary actions that occur at particular schools. These opportunity-to-learn variables are seen as conditions that impact student achievement but are largely beyond the direct influence of the school system. Accordingly, various groups have noted that achievement problems of students from low-income families need to be addressed by other social agencies. Clearly, poor achievement in schools is often outside the control of individual schools, but not outside the influence of the broader society. If a society chooses to hold individual schools ‘accountable’ for achievement, it is incumbent on that society to spread its wealth in ways that address factors that individual schools cannot address.

9. Impro
ing Performance: Aligning Theory and Research Massive investments of public funds in student testing have occurred over the last two decades of the twentieth century and, as noted, some policymakers have called for even more testing and for raising extant standards. The research for higher standards has led to the development of tests in some states that are designed, absurdly, so that most students fail them. Oddly, despite this massive investment in testing, no information has been obtained to describe adequately what students learn in schools and how conditions can be changed to further enhance student learning. We believe that school reform efforts need to bring theory and empirical research together. It is time to stop advocacy from prestigious groups that do not support their reform calls in the form of theory and data. There is a growing sense of the importance of instructional balance in order to scaffold the learning needs of students in complex classroom settings (Good and Brophy 2000, Grouws and Cebulla 2000). However, these assertions demand more research examination in various contexts. In contrast, this advice is currently not echoed by professional groups. These groups continue to overemphasize (in our opinion) problem solving and application without concomitant attention to the development of conceptual knowledge. The ability to solve problems also requires the ability to recognize and find problems as well as the computational and conceptual skills necessary for addressing problems. Simply put, there can be too little or too much attention to concepts, facts, or problem solving.

10. Non-subject-matter Outcomes of Schooling Americans have always argued that their students should not simply be ‘academic nerds,’ but that students should also be participants in broader society (have jobs, participate in drama or sports, etc.).

School Outcomes: Cogniti
e Function, Achie
ements, Social Skills, and Values Increasingly, parents and citizens have expressed interest in schools being more responsive to the nonsubject-matter needs of youth. Often, this argument is expressed only in terms of improving achievement—if children feel secure, they will achieve better. But increasingly, the assertion is made that some outcomes of schooling are important whether or not they impact subject-matter learning. Despite the considerable advocacy of policy leaders for higher standards, many citizens are pushing hard for students to learn responsibility. For example, when asked what first comes to their minds when Americans think about today’s teenagers, 67 percent described them as ‘rude, irresponsible, and wild,’ and 41 percent reported that they did not think teens had enough to do and that they were not being taught the value of hard work (schools are not doing their ‘job’) (Farkas et al. 1997). This idea is echoed in the 1999 Phi Delta Kappan\Gallup poll, where 43 percent of parents reported that the main emphasis of schools should be on students’ academic skills, and 47 percent of parents said they believe that the main emphasis of schools should be helping students to learn to take responsibility. And earlier in a 1996 Phi Delta Kappan\Gallup poll, parents indicated they would prefer their children to receive bad grades and be active in school activities rather than making an excellent grade and not participating in extracurricular activities (60 percent to 20 percent). It is clear that parents and citizens, reacting to a perception of adolescents’ moral decline, believe that schools should play a greater role in teaching non-subject-matter content, such as responsibility and civic behavior. Although citizens want schools to provide students with more non-subject-matter knowledge, there are problems with the systematic addition of this ‘content’ to the curriculum. One problematic issue is the difficulty in finding consensus on what a moral curriculum would look like. Subsequently, what assessment criteria should be used to measure the curriculum’s effectiveness? Is the curriculum successful if more students vote? Or is it effective if students are able to negotiate conflicts calmly? As we have argued, achievement tests do not always represent adequately the curricula they are supposed to measure. Therefore, it is reasonable to think that appropriate accountability and assessment tools would be difficult to implement for non-subject-matter content—at least without adequate empirical research. Policymakers, however, are not only supporting past emphases of the impact of schools on achievement, but are pressuring for higher and higher standards. In some instances, the standards have been pushed so high (and artificially high) that in Virginia and in Arizona over 90 percent of students failed exams that presumably represented efforts by state government to improve standards. At some level, increasing standards may be a laudable goal; however, developing standards that only 10 percent of our

students pass seems to be a ridiculous and selfdefeating effort. Given the exaggerated, negative views of youth, and testing policies designed to guarantee youth’s failure, it seems important to explore motivation. Are such practices designed to suggest that youth, especially minority youth, do not deserve resources in their schools?

11. Educators on Noncogniti
e Factors Rothstein (2000) has noted that, in part, achievement measures are reified in making decisions about the effectiveness of schooling, because there are many of these measures, but few ways to measure noncognitive outcomes. He noted that there are 10 core outcomes that motivate citizens to invest in schools so that students can contribute to society and lead productive adult lives. The dimensions he identifies are literacy, competencies in mathematics, science, and technology, problem solving, foreign languages, history knowledge, responsible democratic citizenship, interest in creative arts, sound wellness practices, teamwork and social ethics, and equity (narrowing the gap between minority and white students in the other nine areas). Wanlass (2000) has drawn attention to the numerous problems in contemporary society, including the effects of a global economy, increased ethnic diversity, advanced technology, and increasing risk for various problems such as intolerance (hate crimes), overpopulation, and a dramatic depletion of natural resources. In this context, she argued a need to help youth develop the affective dispositions required for the modern world (leadership, tolerance, philanthropic concern). She suggested several strategies, capitalizing on the unique strengths and talents of more students and the need to better develop the unique abilities of nonacademic areas as well as academic concerns (performing arts, social interaction, leadership, civic-mindedness, social advocacy, etc.). Goodenow (1992) has argued that students who feel more connected to their schools are more likely to be academically and socially successful. Students who felt more personally valued and invested in were more likely to place higher value and have higher expectations for classroom success than were students who did not feel valued. This finding was replicated in a large-scale study (Blum and Rinehart 1996), which surveyed more than 90,000 students nationwide and found that those who felt more connected to their schools were less likely to engage in risky behavior, including: smoking, doing drugs, engaging in sexual activity, and repeated truancy, and they were less likely to drop out of school. In this study, school connectedness was defined as students who: (a) felt they were treated fairly, (b) reported they got along with other teachers and students, and (c) felt close to people at school. Connectedness was also explored in 13587

School Outcomes: Cogniti
e Function, Achie
ements, Social Skills, and Values terms of how schools were perceived by their teachers and administrators. A school that encouraged more connectedness exhibited less student prejudice and had higher daily attendance rates, lower drop out rates, and more teachers employed with masters degrees. Although these data are correlational in nature, it suggests that some factors thought to be uncontrollable, may in fact be controllable. Researchers have also investigated the role of nonsubject-matter variables as they influence students’ motivation to achieve. For example, Nichols (1997) examined the nature of the relationship between students’ perceptions of fairness and their reported levels of motivation to achieve. Of the four dimensions of fairness identified through factor analytic techniques (personal, rules, punishment, teacher), a personal sense of fairness more strongly mediated motivational variables than did other dimensions. Similar to Goodenow (1992), this data set indicated that students who felt more personally valued were more likely to be motivated to achieve in school settings. However, even if students’ personal sense of fairness was not linked directly to an achievement motivation, it would seem that this is a desirable outcome of schooling. Students should feel respected and safe, whether or not these variables influence achievement.

12. Conclusion Clearly, more public debate is called for, if more focused judgments are to be reached concerning those aspects of schools that are defined as most critical. However, given the growing evidence that citizens are concerned about non-subject-matter outcomes of schooling, it seems incumbent on policymakers to ‘proxy’ these concerns by collecting data on some of the many outcomes that could be measured. There is a need for research and arguments focused on nonsubject-matter variables, as well. For example, it seems that high subject-matter specialization and excessively high levels of student obedience (as opposed to student initiatives) are not a prescription for forging a professional community well prepared for engaging in creative work and problem solving. A recent poll of teenagers found that the three greatest pressures they experience are to get good grades (44 percent), to get into college (32 percent), and to fit in socially. In contrast, fewer teens report feeling pressure to use drugs or alcohol (19 percent) or to be sexually active (13 percent). What modern youth are concerned about varies markedly from the view presented by the media. Unfortunately, policymakers at present seem more intent on blaming youth and holding them accountable than on understanding them. The collection of reliable data on various non-subject-matter outcomes of schooling might help to assure that youth are developing the pro13588

active skills necessary for life in a democracy (e.g., civility, a willingness to examine ideas critically, and ambition). The historical concern for evidence about subjectmatter growth should continue—particularly if these measures are collected in ways that provide a basis for curriculum improvement. However, it is important to recognize that US public schools are about much more than subject-matter acquisition. More research on students and how they mediate social, emotional, and academic contexts might enable educators to design better school programs that recognize students both as academic learners and as social beings (McCaslin and Good 1992). See also: Curriculum as a Field of Educational Study; Educational Assessment: Major Developments; Educational Evaluation: Overview; Educational Research for Educational Practice; School Effectiveness Research; Teacher Behavior and Student Outcomes

Bibliography Berliner D, Biddle B 1995 The Manufactured Crisis: Myth, Fraud and the Attack on America’s Public Schools. Addison-Wesley, New York Biddle B, Good T, Goodson I 1997 Teachers: The International Handbook of Teachers and Teaching. Kluwer, Dordrecht, The Netherlands, Vols. 1 and 2 Blum R W, Rinehart P M 1996 Reducing the Risk: Connections That Make a Difference in the Li
es of Youth. University of Minnesota, Division of General Pediatrics and Adolescent Health, Minneapolis, MN Bracey G W, Resnick M A 1998 Raising the Bar: A School Board Primer on Student Achie
ement. National School Boards Association, Alexandria, VA Camilli G, Firestone W 1999 Values and state ratings: An examination of the state-by-state indicators in quality counts. Educational Measurement: Issues and Practice 35: 17–25 Farkas S, Johnson J, Duffett A, Bers A 1997 Kids These Days: What Americans Really Think About The Next Generation. Public Agenda, New York Good T L, Braden J 2000 The Great School Debate: Choice, Vouchers, and Charters. Erlbaum, Mahwah, NJ Good T L, Brophy J 2000 Looking in Classrooms, 8th edn. Longman, New York Good T L, Weinstein R 1986 Schools make a difference: Evidence, criticisms, and new directions. American Psychologist 41: 1090–7 Good T L, Grouws D A, Ebmeier H 1983 Acti
e Mathematics Teaching. Longman, New York Goodenow C 1992 School motivation, engagement, and sense of belonging among urban adolescent students. Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the American Educational Research Association, San Diego, CA Grouws D, Cebulla K 2000 Elementary and middle school mathematics at the crossroads. In: Good T (ed.) American Education: Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow. Ninety-Ninth Yearbook of the National Society for the Study of Education. University of Chicago Press, Chicago, Chapter 5, pp. 209–55

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e and Moti
ational De
elopment McCaslin M, Good T 1992 Compliant cognition: The misalliance of management and instructional goals and current school reform. Educational Researcher 21: 4–17 National Commission for Excellence in Education 1983 A Nation At Risk: The Imperati
es for Education Reform. US Department of Education, National Commission for Excellence in Education, Washington, DC National Education Commission on Time and Learning 1994 Prisoners of Time. US Government Printing Office, Washington, DC Nichols S 1997 Students in the Classroom: Engagement and Perceptions of Fairness. Master’s thesis, University of Arizona Randi J, Corno L 1997 Teachers as innovators. In: Biddle B, Good T, Goodson I (eds.) International Handbook of Teachers and Teaching. Kluwer, Dordrecht, The Netherlands, Vol. 2, Chap. 12, pp. 1163–221 Rothstein R 2000 Toward a composite index of school performance. Elementary School Journal 100(5): 409–42 Slavin R 1999 How Title I can become the engine of reform in America’s schools. In: Orfield G, Debray E (eds.) Hard Work for Good Schools: Facts Not Fads In Title I Reform. The Civil Rights Project, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA, Chap. 7, pp. 86–101 Teddlie C, Stringfield S 1993 Schools Make a Difference: Lessons Learned From a 10-Year Study of School Effects. Teachers College Press, New York Wanlass Y 2000 Broadening the concept of learning and school competence. Elementary School Journal 100(5): 513–28 Weinert L, Helmke A 1995 Interclassroom differences in instructional quality and interindividual differences in cognitive development. Educational Psychologist 30: 15–20

T. L. Good and S. L. Nichols

Schooling: Impact on Cognitive and Motivational Development Up until the mid-1970s, neither the general public nor the social sciences could agree on whether schooling has a significant impact on cognitive development, how large this impact is or may be, and which variables are responsible for any potential effects it may have. For example, even in 1975, Good et al. asked skeptically, ‘Do schools or teachers make a difference? No definite answer exists because little research has been directed on the question in a comprehensive way’ (Good et al. 1975, p. 3). Things have changed since then, because the findings from numerous empirical studies have banished any serious doubts concerning whether schooling impacts on both the cognitive and motivational development of students. This article will report the arguments questioning the importance of school for the mental development of children and adolescents and assess their scientific validity; present the empirical evidence on the strong impact of school on cognitive development, while simultaneously showing the limits to its generaliz-

ability; and sketch the findings on the role of school in motivational development. The final section presents some conclusions on the relations between cognitive and motivational development under the influence of school.

1. Scientific Doubts Regarding the Impact of Schooling on Cogniti
e De
elopment Compared with the impact of social origins and\or stable individual differences in intellectual abilities on cognitive development, that of schooling was long considered marginal. Nonetheless, the Coleman Report (Coleman et al. 1966) was still a great shock to many politicians, educators, and teachers when it concluded, ‘that school brings little influence to bear on a child’s achievement that is independent of his background and general social context’ (p. 325). Just as radically, Jencks et al. (1972) confirmed ‘that the character of schools’ output depends largely on a single input, namely, the characteristics of the entering children. Everything else—the schools’ ‘budget, its policies, the characteristics of the teachers—is either secondary or completely irrelevant’ (p. 256). According to their findings, elementary school contributed 3 percent or less to the variance in cognitive development, and secondary school 1 percent or less. Even though both Coleman et al.’s (1966) and Jencks et al.’s (1972) general statements were modified and differentiated slightly in comparisons between private and public schools, between middle-class and lower-class children, and between the effects of different school variables, the final conclusion remains unchanged: ‘Nevertheless, the overall effect of elementary school quality on test scores appears rather modest’ (Jencks et al. 1972, p. 91). Viewed from the perspective of the beginning of the twenty-first century, such statements and conclusions are, without exception, underestimations of the impact of schooling on cognitive development in childhood and adolescence. There are various reasons for these underestimations. First, two aspects of cognitive development that should be kept strictly separate are frequently confounded: the growth and acquisition of competencies, knowledge, and skills on the one side compared with the change in interindividual differences in cognitive abilities on the other. We now know that schools are necessary and very influential institutions for the acquisition of that declarative and procedural knowledge that cannot be learned in the child’s environment outside school, but that the quantity and quality of schooling has only a limited power to modify individual differences in abilities. Second, Coleman et al. (1966), Jencks et al. (1972), and many other studies, compared very similar schools in the USA or other industrialized countries. Naturally, such schools reveal more commonalities than 13589

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elopment differences due to the similarities in teacher training, curricular goals, educational traditions, the budget of the educational institutions, the state-regulated quantity of teaching, and standardized achievement tests. The methodological problems in such research did not become evident until the publication of findings from cross-cultural studies. These showed that when schools in the Third World—or even achievement measured in ethnic groups with no or very low school education—are taken into account alongside schools in industrialized countries, massive effects of the quantity and quality of instruction can be ascertained (Anderson et al. 1977). The third reason for underestimating the impact of schools was that scientific interest in educational sociology focused on the role of social class and the family in mental development, whereas developmental psychology was dominated by Jean Piaget’s constructivist model. Whereas theories of cognitive development deal with general mechanisms of thought, action, and experience, models of school learning in the strict sense are concerned with the acquisition of specific skills and small bits of knowledge. Piaget and his co-workers emphasized ‘that this form of learning is subordinate to the laws of development and development does not consist in the successive accumulation of bits of learning since development follows structuration laws that are both logical and biological’ (Inhelder and Sinclair 1969, p. 21).

2. Empirical Confirmation of the Impact of Schooling on Cogniti
e De
elopment In many social scientists, the skeptical attitude toward the role of schools in recent decades has been overcome to a large extent (although not completely) by the results of numerous empirical studies. This applies not only to the acquisition of specific cognitive competencies but also to the promotion of intelligence. After reviewing the relevant literature, Rutter (1983, p. 20) came to the conclusion that ‘the crucial component of effective teaching includes a clear focus on academic goals, an appropriate degree of structure, an emphasis on active instruction, a task-focused approach, and high achievement expectations.’ Although recent years have seen increasingly strong criticism of Rutter’s description of the successful classroom, it is broadly confirmed empirically that active teachers, direct instruction, and effective classroom management on the one side accompanied by active, constructive, and purposeful learners on the other side are necessary conditions for the effective acquisition of competencies, knowledge, and skills. Naturally, a major role can also be assigned to intrinsically motivated, self-organized, and cooperative learning (Weinert and Helmke 1995). Nonetheless, the impact of schools on cognitive development ranges far beyond teaching declarative 13590

and procedural knowledge and also includes the promotion of intellectual abilities. For example, Ceci (1991) summarized his state-of-the-art review as follows: Of course, schooling is not the complete story in the formation and maintenance of IQ-scores and IQ-related cognitive processes … Children differ in IQ and cognitive processes prior to entering school, and within a given classroom there are sizeable individual differences despite an equivalence of schooling. … Thus, the conclusion seems fairly clear: Even though many factors are responsible for individual and group differences in the intellectual development of children, schooling emerges as an extremely important source of variance, notwithstanding historical and contemporary claims for the contrary. (p. 719)

Looking at the available data from industrialized countries, the Third World, and, above all, crosscultural studies on the impact of schooling on cognitive development in general and the effectiveness of specific features of schools in particular, substantial effects can be ascertained on intellectual abilities; on metacognitive strategies; on the acquisition of verbal, mathematical, scientific, logical, and technological competencies; and on various forms of domainspecific and cross-domain knowledge. These findings provide unequivocal support for Geary’s (1995) hypothesis that schools are necessary cultural conditions for the acquisition of those abilities and skills that cannot be learned in the child’s immediate environment: this means almost all the cognitive competencies necessary for a good life and a successful career in our modern scientifically and technologically shaped world. Up to which level cognitive development is enhanced and which competencies are acquired depends strongly on the quality and quantity of schooling. This is confirmed by findings from a number of large-scale international studies that not only compared school achievement but also assessed important features and variables in the individual national school systems. A current example is the Third International Mathematics and Science Study (TIMSS) carried out by the International Association for the Evaluation of Educational Achievement (IEA; see Baumert et al. 1997). In association with numerous national and regional studies on educational productivity, school effectiveness, or school improvement, it has been possible to identify a variety of combinations and configurations of variables in the school system, the individual school, the classroom, the teacher, instruction, and the school context that impact on various dimensions and aspects of the cognitive development of students. At the same time, these findings have also led to scientific suggestions for improving school systems. Alongside mean effect sizes, the long-term effects of exceptional schools and teachers are of particular interest. For example, Pederson et al. (1978) reported

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elopment the strong long-term effects of one excellent teacher in a single-case study. Compared with the students of other teachers, the children she had taught in their first two years at school were significantly more successful in their later academic careers as well as in their later jobs. More detailed analyses of this effect revealed that this teacher attained above-average effects on school performance in the first two school grades as well as on her students’ attitudes toward work and their initiative, but no great increase in intellectual abilities. Even more important than the direct teacher effects were the indirect effects of a good, successful, and positively experienced start to school on all the children’s further cognitive and motivational development. Although it has to be said that this is only one single-case study, its findings could be replicated as a trend, though not so emphatically, in several representative longitudinal studies (Weinert and Helmke 1997). However, great methodological care is necessary when gathering, analyzing, and interpreting longitudinal data. Only multilevel analyses (that view teacher or instruction variables as being moderated by classroom contexts, and classroom effects as being influenced by features of the school, the school system, and the sociocultural environment) permit valid estimations of the effects of certain clusters of variables on students’ cognitive development and growth in knowledge. Such studies have shown that individual variables make only a very limited contribution to explaining the variance in student outcomes. There are many reasons for this: one of the most important is the complex ‘multideterminedness’ of students’ academic achievement. Haertel et al. (1983) characterize the ensuing theoretical and methodological problems as follows: … classroom learning is a multiplicative diminishing-returns function of four essential factors—student ability and motivation, and quality and quantity of instruction … Each of these essential factors appear to be necessary but insufficient by itself to classroom learning; that is, all four of these factors appear to be required at least at minimum levels for the classroom learning to take place. It also appears that the essential factors may substitute, compensate, or trade-off for one another in diminishing rates of return. (p. 75)

3. The Limited Impact of School on the Modification of Indi
idual Differences in Cogniti
e Abilities and Competencies Of the four essential conditions for classroom learning identified by Haertel et al. (1983), only two (the quantity and quality of instruction) are under the control of the school and the teacher. The other two (ability and motivation) are features of students.

Already when entering school, children exhibit large interindividual differences in both their cognitive competencies and their motivational tendencies. Through genetic factors and through covariations between genotype and environmental influences, interindividual differences in intellectual abilities already become moderately stable early in childhood. Round about the seventh year of life, astonishingly high stability coefficients of 0.5 to 0.7 are already found, despite the relatively low reliability of many tests at this age level. Assuming that more intelligent students learn, on average, more quickly, more easily, and better than less intelligent students under the same conditions of instruction, it can be anticipated that interindividual differences in mental abilities and cognitive development will not diminish under the influence of school but become increasingly more stable. This is also supported by the results of many empirical studies: For example, during the course of elementary schooling, stability coefficients in verbal intelligence tests increase to about 0.8, nonverbal intelligence to 0.7, mathematical competencies to 0.7, reading and writing to 0.7, and the development of positive attitudes toward learning, self-confidence, and test anxiety to 0.6 in each case (Weinert and Helmke 1997). This recognizable trend in elementary school continues in secondary school, with stabilities in IQ scores already attaining values between 0.8 and 0.9 from the age of 12 years onward, thus permitting almost perfect long-term prediction. These and other empirical findings can be used to draw some theoretical conclusions on classroom learning that may be modified, but not falsified, by variations in school contexts: (a) Cognitive abilities and competencies develop dramatically in childhood and adolescence—not least under the influence of the school. At the same time, interindividual differences already stabilize at a relatively early age and then remain more or less invariant. (b) This trend applies not only for intellectual abilities but also for the acquisition of cognitive competencies and domain-specific knowledge. This is particularly apparent when the knowledge acquired is cognitively demanding. In this case, it is necessary to assume a relationship between the level of intelligence and the quality of the knowledge (‘intelligent knowledge’). (c) Naturally, the stabilities in individual differences are in no way perfect, so that changes can be observed in students’ relative positions in the ranking of abilities and academic achievements. However, very strong changes are often an exception due to idiosyncrasies rather than the rule. (d) All attempts to level out these individual differences in cognitive abilities and competencies that stabilize during the course of schooling and to make achievements and achievement dispositions equal for all students have generally been unsuccessful. The same applies to the concept of mastery learning when 13591

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elopment practiced over a longer period of time and on demanding tasks. (e) Of course, very significant changes in individual differences result when students are taught for different lengths of time and\or with different achievement aspirations in various subjects or the same subject. Whereas, for example, some students broaden their basic knowledge of the world only slightly through the physics they learn at school, others acquire a high degree of expertise in the subject. Despite the doubtful validity of the claim put forward in the novice–expert research paradigm that intellectual abilities and talents are irrelevant for the acquisition of expertise, the extent of deliberate practice seems to be decisive for the achievement of excellence. (f) Regardless of the level of individual abilities and regardless of the stability of interindividual differences in ability, it is still necessary for all students to acquire all their cognitive competencies through active learning. Many studies have shown that the quantity and quality of instruction are useful and, in part, even necessary for this.

4. The Impact of Schooling on Moti
ational De
elopment The available statistical meta-analyses confirm the belief shared by most laypersons that student motivation is an essential personal factor for successful learning at school. However, motivational tendencies and preferences are not just conditions of learning but are also influenced by learning and teaching in the classroom. Their systematic promotion is simultaneously an important goal of school education. To analyze motivational conditions and consequences of school learning, it is necessary to distinguish strictly between dispositional motives and current motivation. Whereas motives (e.g., achievement motive, affiliation motive, attribution style, test anxiety, self-confidence) are understood as personal traits that are relatively stable and change only slowly, motivation concerns current approach or avoidance tendencies that not only depend on dispositional motives but are also influenced strongly by situational conditions (stimuli, incentives, rewards, threats, etc.). Naturally, the long-term modification of motivational development through the school predominantly involves the students’ dispositional motives, attitudes, and value orientations. School enrollment between the fifth and seventh year of life seems to be a sensitive period of development for this. The cognitive competencies acquired during preschool years enable first graders to compare themselves with others, to make causal interpretations over the differences and changes in achievement they register, and to form anticipations regarding future achievements. At the same time, the school class offers a variety of opportunities for 13592

comparisons on the levels of behavior, achievement, evaluation, and ability. Teachers play an important role in this. Almost all preschool-age children are optimists: They look forward to attending school, most anticipate that they will do well, they have only a low fear of failure, and they believe that they will be able to cope with all the demands of the school. This morethan- optimistic attitude changes during the first two years at school. In general, children become realists, although most of them continue to hold positive expectations regarding their own success. This basic attitude stabilizes during the further course of schooling—naturally, with large interindividual differences due, in part, to personal academic successes and failures, in part to a stable anticipation bias (Weinert and Helmke 1997). This general developmental trend is modified more or less strongly by specific features of the school, the classroom, the teacher, and the methods of instruction (for overview see Pintrich and Schunk 1996). A few examples of this will be given below. These come either from studies in which the motivational effects of teaching and learning were observed in the classroom, or from studies assessing the effects of planned interventions. Personal causation (the feeling of being an origin and not a pawn) is an important motivational condition for successful classroom learning. If students are to experience personal causation, they must have opportunities to (a) set themselves demanding but realistic goals, (b) recognize their own strengths and weaknesses, (c) be self-confident about the efficacy of their own actions, (d) evaluate whether they have attained the goals they have set themselves, and (e) assume responsibility not only for their own behavior but also, for example, that of their classroom peers. Psychological interventions designed to enhance the ‘origin atmosphere’ in the classroom and increase the ‘origin experiences’ of the students have led not only to the intended motivational changes but also to broad improvements in average academic achievement. Similarly positive outcomes are reported from studies designed to improve the goal orientation of learning, to strengthen achievement motivation, and to modify the individual patterns of attributions used in intuitive explanations of success and failure. For example, efforts have been made in both classrooms and individual students to modify the typical attribution style for learned helplessness (attributing failure to stable deficits in ability and success to luck or low task difficulty) so that given abilities and varying effort as a function of task difficulty become the dominant personal attribution patterns. Positive modifications to student motivational development depend decisively on the teacher’s attitudes, instructional strategies, and feedback behavior. As a result, many intervention programs for enhancing motivation focus on both students and teachers

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elopment simultaneously. For example, a large study of ‘selfefficacious schools’ is being carried out at the present time in Germany. It is testing the assumption that enhanced self-efficacy beliefs may affect not only teacher behavior (by reducing burnout syndromes and enhancing a proactive attitude) but also student learning (by increasing motivation and achievement). For several decades, theories of learning motivation have been dominated by the assumption that basic needs are satisfied through achievement, social support, rewards, self-evaluation, and so on. Frequently the motivational mechanisms were those underlying expectancyivalue models, cost-benefit calculations, or instrumental behavior models. In comparison, intrinsic motives for learning have played a much smaller role. Intrinsic motivation addresses needs and goals that are satisfied by the process of learning itself and by the possibility of experiencing and enjoying one’s own expression of competence and increasing knowledge in a preferred content domain. In this theoretical framework, working and learning are not a means to an end, but are more or less an end in themselves; learning activities and learning goals are not clearly distinguished (e.g., exploratory drive, experience of flow, effectancy motivation, etc.). Underlying these concepts is the assumption ‘… that intrinsic motivation is based in the innate, organismic needs for competence and self-determination. It energizes a high variety of behaviors and psychological processes for which the primary rewards are the experience of effectance and autonomy’ (Deci and Ryan 1985, p. 32). The reason for a careful consideration of intrinsic motivation is that in educational philosophy intrinsic motivated learning and behavior are regarded as the most important goals of schooling. The worry is that strengthening extrinsic motivation by making external incentives and rewards available is likely to be detrimental to achieving this goal. The ideas underlying such fears come from the results of some studies investigating the ‘overjustification effect,’ which show that the use of rewards can undermine intrinsic motivation. However, the results of several recent studies indicate that this fear is unjustified. Furthermore, the relation between dispositional motives, actual motivation, and learning activities is not simple and linear but is influenced strongly by interconnections with cognitive processes, metacognitive strategies, and volitional skills.

5.

Conclusions

Schools are cultural and educational institutions for promoting cognitive development and imparting those competencies that the child cannot acquire within the immediate environment. Throughout the world, schools fulfil this evolutionary, psychological, and cultural function more or less well. The quantity and quality of instruction are a major source of the

variance in the genesis of interindividual differences in cognitive competencies. Moreover, the development and promotion of competent, self-regulated learning is an equally important goal of schools in modern societies. The development of intrinsic and extrinsic motives becomes particularly important here in association with metacognitive and volitional competencies. This is why recent decades have seen not only studies examining which relations can be found between the classroom atmosphere, the teacher’s behavior, and the subjective experiences of the students on the one side and their motivational and cognitive development on the other side, but also numerous programs designed to promote motivation systematically that have been tried out with, in part, notable success. The relation between cognitive and motivational development and their interaction are of particular interest in both theory and practice. This is just as true for the influence of academic success on the development of a positive self-concept as for the importance of the self-concept for individual progress in learning (Weinert and Helmke 1997). See also: School Effectiveness Research; School Outcomes: Cognitive Function, Achievements, Social Skills, and Values

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e Befunde. Leske and Budrich, Opladen, Germany Ceci S J 1991 How much does schooling influence general intelligence and its cognitive components? A reassessment of evidence. De
elopmental Psychology 27: 703–22 Coleman J S, Campbell E R, Hobson C J, Mc Partland J, Mood A, Weingold F D, York R L 1966 Equality of Educational Opportunity. Government Printing Office, Washington, DC Deci E, Ryan R M 1985 Intrinsic Moti
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ior. Plenum Press, New York Geary D C 1995 Reflections on evolution and culture in children’s cognition. American Psychologist 50: 24–36 Good T L, Biddle B J, Brophy J E 1975 Teachers Make a Difference. Holt, Rinehart, & Winston, New York Haertel G D, Walberg H J, Weinstein T 1983 Psychological models of educational performance. A theoretical synthesis of constructs. Re
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F. E. Weinert

Schools, Micropolitics of ‘Micropolitics’ is a specific perspective in organization theory. It focuses on ‘those activities taken within organizations to acquire, develop, and use power and other resources to obtain one’s preferred outcomes in a situation in which there is uncertainty or dissent’ (Pfeffer 1981, p. 7) because it considers them as most important for the constitution and the workings of organizations. This article will explore the uses and usefulness of this concept in educational research. It starts by outlining the micropolitical view on educational organizations. Then, it gives some examples of representative micropolitical research in order to illustrate typical topics and research strategies. Finally, it discusses criticisms of micropolitics and indicates areas for development.

1. The Concept of Micropolitics 1.1 Main Elements Traditional organizational theories of different origins seem to converge in describing organizations as goal oriented and rationally planned, characterized by stable objective structures, a high degree of integration, and a common purpose of its members. Conflicts between the members of an organization are considered costly and irrational ‘pathologies’ to be eradicated as soon as possible. However, conflicts are endemic in organizational life (Ball 1987). Different stakeholders pursue their own interests which are not necessarily identical with the formulated goals. Coalitions are formed, meetings are boycotted, and formal structures are ignored. As such phenomena frequently occur in organizations, it is not helpful to exclude them from organizational theorizing: models which can cope with this ‘dark side of organizational life’ (Hoyle 1982, p. 87) are needed. The micropolitical perspective was originally developed in the realm of profit organizations (e.g., 13594

Bacharach and Lawler 1980, Pfeffer 1981). In a 1982 seminal paper, Eric Hoyle (1982) put forward arguments for exploring the concept also for education. In 1987 Stephen Ball (1987) published the book The Micro-Politics of the School in which he used empirical material to push the development of the concept. In its wake the term ‘micropolitics’ appeared more frequently in various research papers (see Blase 1991 for a representative collection). What are the main elements of a micropolitical view of schools as presented in this early research? (a) The micropolitical perspective is based on a specific view of organizations. They are seen as characterized by diverse goals, by interaction and relationships rather than structures, by diffuse borders and unclear areas of influence rather than clear-cut conditions of superordination and delegation, by continuous, unsystematic, reactive change rather than by longer phases of stable performance and limited projects of development. The main focus of micropolitical approaches is not the organization as it aspires to be in mission statements or organizational charts, but the organization-in-action and, in particular, the ‘space between structures’ (Hoyle 1982, p. 88) which produces enough ambiguity to allow political activities to flourish. (b) A micropolitical approach is based on a specific image of actors. The members of organizations are seen as pursuing their own interests in their daily work. The actors may do this as individuals, they may coalesce in loosely associated interest sets, or use subdivisions of the organization (e.g., departments, professionals versus administration) as power bases. In order to protect or enhance their organizational room for maneuver, they aim to retain or obtain control of resources, such as the following (see Kelchtermans and Vandenberghe 1996, p. 7, Ball 1987, p. 16): (i) material resources, such as time, funds, teaching materials, infrastructure, time tabling, etc. (ii) organizational resources such as procedures, roles, and positions which enable and legitimate specific actions and decisions. They define ‘prohibited territories’ and relationships of subordination or autonomy. Thereby, they have their bearing on the actors’ chances to obtain other resources (e.g., through career, participation, etc.). (iii) normative or ideological resources, such as values, philosophical commitments, and educational preferences. A particularly important ideological resource is the ‘definition of the organization’ which indicates what is legitimate and important in the organizational arena. (iv) informational resources: the members of an organization are interested in obtaining organizationally relevant information and to have their expertise, knowledge, and experience acknowledged. (v) social resources: affiliation to, support from, and reputation with influential groups within and outside

Schools, Micropolitics of the school are assets which may be mobilized for one’s organizational standing. (vi) personal resources: also personal characteristics—such as being respected as a person, being grounded in an unchallenged identity as a teacher, etc.—are resources in organizational interactions. (c) A micropolitical perspective pays special attention to interaction processes in organizations. These are interpreted as strategic and conflictual struggle about the shape of the organization which, in consequence, defines the members’ room for maneuver. This has the following implications: (i) Organizational interaction is power-impregnated. It draws on the resources mentioned above for influencing the workings of an organization. However, these resources have to be mobilized in interaction in order to become ‘power.’ (ii) Power is in need of relationship. In order to satisfy his or her interests an actor needs some interaction from other actors. Power builds on dependency, which makes the relationship reciprocal, but, as a rule, asymmetric. (iii) Power is employed from both ends of the organizational hierarchy. There are advantages of position, however, ‘micropolitical skills may be well distributed throughout the organization and position is not always an accurate indicator of influence’ (Ball 1994, p. 3824). (iv) Actors use a multitude of strategies and tactics to interactively mobilize their resources and to prevent others from doing so, such as, for example, setting the agenda of meetings, boycotting and escalating, avoiding visibility, confronting openly or complying, carefully orchestrating scenes behind closed doors or in public arenas, etc. (v) Organizational interaction is seen as conflictual and competitive. ‘Confronted by competition for scarce resources and with ideologies, interests and personalities at variance, bargaining becomes crucial’ (Gronn 1986, p. 45). The relationship between control and conflict (or domination and resistance) is conceived ‘as the fundamental and contradictory base of organizational life’ (Ball 1994, p. 3822). (vi) Organizational change is nonteleological, pervasive, and value-laden since it advances the position of certain groups at the expense of the relative status of others (see Ball 1987, p. 32). Schools are not organizations easily changed; a ‘quick-fix orientation’ in innovation will not be appropriate to their cultural complexities (see Corbett et al. 1987, p. 57).

2. Research in the Micropolitics of Education 2.1 Methods and Strategies If part of the micropolitical activities which are interesting for the researcher take place in privacy, if

these processes are often overlain by routine activities (see Ball 1994, p. 3822), and if experienced actors regularly use strategies such as covering up actions, deceiving about real intentions etc., then researching the micropolitics of schools will have to cope with some methodological problems. To come to grips with their object of study micropolitical studies focus on critical incidents, persons and phases that disrupt routine, for example, the appointment of a new principal, the introduction of new tasks or programs, instances of structural reorganization (e.g., a school merger), etc. They pay special attention to the processes of (re-)distribution of resources, rewards, and benefits (see Ball 1994, p. 3823) or analyze instances of organizational conflict to find out how new organizational order has been established. These strategies provide a quicker access to indicative processes, but are certainly in danger of inducing an overestimation of the proportion of conflict in organizations. Micropolitical studies try to enhance their credibility through triangulation of methods, collection of multiple perspectives, longterm engagement in the field, critical discourse in a team of researchers, and feedback from participants and external researchers. Although there have been some attempts to tackle organizational micropolitics with quantitative means (see Blickle 1995), most studies are based on qualitative methods. There have been interview and observation studies, however, the typical strategy is a case study approach mainly based on interviews, field notes from participant or nonparticipant observation, transcripts of meetings, analyses of documents, and cross-case comparison of different sites. A good example of such a case study is Sparkes’ (1990) three-year study of a newly appointed departmental head’s attempts at innovation: the head seeks to orientate Physical Education teaching towards a child-centered approach emphasizing mixedability grouping and individual self-paced activities which run counter to the then prevalent ‘sporting ideology.’ In the beginning the new head believes in rational change and democratic participation. The head tries to make other department members understand his own particular teaching approach before introducing changes to the curriculum. However, not all staff can be convinced through dialogue. In his management position the departmental head can control the agenda of department meetings, time, and procedure of arriving at decisions, etc. He secures the agreement of crucial staff members before the meetings and networks with other influential persons outside his department. His proposals for innovation are nevertheless met with resistance by some staff. However, this resistance cannot prevent the structural changes being introduced. However, these structural changes cannot guarantee teachers’ conformity to the head’s educational goals within the confines of individual classrooms. Thus, he goes on to consolidate 13595

Schools, Micropolitics of his domination of the department by careful selection of new staff and exclusion of the unwilling. Although being successful in that his proposals for curriculum change were implemented within one year, the departmental head ended up in a situation that was characterized by conflict and uncertainty and, thus, in many respects, counteracted his own aspirations of democratic leadership. Sparkes suggests that his findings have some bearing beyond the specific case. He warns that the ‘ideology of school-centered innovation … fails to acknowledge the presence and importance of conflict and struggle both within, and between, departments … the commonly held view of teacher participation in the innovative process as ‘good’ in itself is highly questionable. The findings presented indicate that qualitative differences exist in the forms of participation available to those involved and that, to a large extent, these are intimately linked to the differential access that individuals have to a range of power resources’ (Sparkes 1990, p. 177).

2.2 Research Topics Typical topics of micropolitical studies are the following: Processes of change: when organizational ‘routine games’ are disrupted e.g., through educational, curricular, or organizational innovations, through the recruitment of new principals or teachers, through the introduction of quality assurance systems, then intensified processes of micropolitical relevance are to be expected. Some studies investigate how externally mandated reform is dealt with in schools: when Ball and Bowe (1991, p. 23) studied the impact of the 1988 British Educational Reform Act, they found that ‘the implementation of externally initiated changes is mediated by the established culture and history of the institution, and that such changes, ‘‘their acceptance and their implementation become sites as well as the stake of internal dispute.’’ The reform puts some possible alternative definitions about the meaning and the workings of schools on the agenda which have to be ‘processed’ in the local environments through disputes over topics such as, for example, ‘serving a community versus marketing a product’ or ‘priority to managerial or professional views of schooling.’ Leadership and the relationships in the organization: traditionally, educational ethnography had a strong classroom orientation. Micropolitics may be understood as a move to apply ethnographic methods to study the interaction of the members of the school outside the classroom. Although parents’, pupils’ and ancillary staff’s voices are included in some studies, most research focuses on the interaction of teachers. Since steering and regulation of schoolwork are at the heart of the micropolitical approach, it is no wonder that issues of leadership have been frequently investigated (see Ball 1987, p. 80). Holders of senior positions 13596

must acquire micropolitical skills for their career advancement and they ‘have much to lose if organizational control is wrested from them’ (Ball 1994, p. 3824) which makes them perfect foci for study. While many of these studies concentrated on sketching vivid images of a ‘politics of subordination,’ Blase and Anderson (1995) developed a framework for a ‘micropolitics of empowerment’ through facilitative and democratic leadership. Socialization and professional de
elopment of teachers: the politically impregnated organizational climate in schools is the context in which individual teachers develop their professional identity (Kelchtermans and Vandenberghe 1996). During the first years of their career teachers concentrate on acquiring knowledge and competencies with respect to academic and control aspects of classroom instruction. Later on they build up a ‘diplomatic political perspective,’ because they feel under ‘constant scrutiny’ by pupils, parents, fellow teachers, and administrators (see Blase 1991, p. 189, Kelchtermans and Vandenberghe 1996). A pervasive feeling of ‘vulnerability’ induces many teachers to develop a range of protective strategies such as low risk grading, documentation of assessment and instruction, avoidance of risky topics and extracurricular activities, etc. (see Blase 1991, p. 193). Thus, it is no wonder that some authors claim that the acquisition of political competence is fundamental to teachers’ career satisfaction (see Ball 1994, p. 3824). Since micropolitical perceptions and competencies are almost absent in beginning teachers’ interpretive frameworks, attention to the induction phase is important (Kelchtermans and Vandenberghe 1996, p. 12). Understanding schools as organizations: since micropolitics is an approach to organization theory all these studies aim to contribute to our understanding of schools as organizations. There are many studies which prove the intensity of power-impregnated activity in schools and analyze typical causes and process forms. It has been argued that political control strategies are a characteristic part of school life ‘precisely because the professional norms of teacher autonomy limit the use of the effectiveness of more overt forms of control’ (Ball 1994, p. 3824). In Iannaconne’s (1991) view, the unique contribution a micropolitical approach can offer lies in exploiting the metaphor of ‘society’ for schools: a typical school is organized like a ‘caste society’ since a majority of its members are ‘subject to its laws without the right to share in making them’ (Iannaconne 1991, p. 469). From the characteristics of a ‘caste society’ some hypotheses about schools may be derived, e.g.: (a) Such societies are characterized by great tensions between the castes and a fragile balance of power. (b) They tend to conceal the internal differences of a caste from others. Consequently, critical self-examination of castes and open debate over policy issues is difficult.

Schools, Micropolitics of (c) They tend to avoid fundamental conflicts and to displace them into petty value conflicts. ‘In schools, as in small rural towns, the etiquette of gossip characterizes teacher talk. Faculty meetings wrangle over trivial matters, avoiding philosophic and ethical issues like the plague’ (Iannaconne 1991, p. 469).

3. Criticism and Areas for De
elopment The first wave of research and conceptual work in micropolitics at the beginning of the 1990s has triggered some criticism which will be discussed in order to identify possible limitations, but also areas for development. (a) Many authors of the micropolitical approach revel in examples of illegitimate strategies: secrecy, deception, and crime add much to the thrill of micropolitical studies. Some critics argue that talking about the pervasiveness of ‘illegitimate power’ produces itself a ‘micropoliticization’ of practice and will undermine confidence in organizations. This claim implies that a second meaning of ‘micropolitics’ is introduced: it does not (only) refer to an approach in organization theory (which analyses both legitimate and illegitimate interactions and their effects for the structuration of an organization), but refers to those specific activities and attitudes in organizations which are based on power politics with illegitimate means. This conceptual move, however, produces problems: how should it be possible to draw the line between ‘good’ and ‘bad organizational politics’ since it were precisely situations characterized by diverse goals and contested expertise which made a concept like ‘micropolitics’ necessary? (b) Although the proponents of micropolitics are right to criticize a presupposition of organizational consensus, it is unsatisfactory to interpret any consensus as a form of domination (see Ball 1987, p. 278, Ball 1994, p. 3822). Many early studies did not include cooperative or consensual interactions (see Blase 1991, p. 9). It will be necessary to develop conceptual devices to account for relationships of co-agency which neither dissolve any cooperation into subtle forms of domination nor gloss over the traces of power which are at the core of collaboration and support (see Altrichter and Salzgeber 2000, p. 104). (c) In focusing on strategic aspects of action micropolitical approaches are again in danger of overemphasizing the ‘rationality’ of organizational action. To understand the workings of organizations it may be necessary to consider actions which are mainly influenced by emotions and affect, which have not been carefully planned according to some interests, as well as unintended consequences of otherwise motivated actions. (d) Although being right to put the spotlight on the

potential instability of organizational processes, early micropolitical studies had some difficulty in conceptualizing the relative stability and durability of organizations, which we can observe every day in many organizations. For this purpose, it will be necessary to bring agency and structure in a balanced conceptual relationship: micropolitics will not deal with ‘relationships rather than structures’ (Ball 1994, p. 3822) but precisely with the interplay between interaction and structure. (e) The understanding of politics displayed in many early micropolitical studies was quite unsatisfactory, not to say unpolitical. Politics was often seen as the opposite of truth and reason; it was associated with treason, conspiracy and accumulation of influence as if fair and democratic ways of negotiation in organizations were inconceivable. More recent studies, for example, Blase and Anderson (1995), seem to overcome this bias. It was also criticized that in some micropolitical studies the external relationships of the organization were dissolved into the interactions between individual actors. However it must be said that some studies took care to account for the societal embedding of organizational interactions (see Ball and Bowe 1991). In the meantime there is general agreement that this must be a feature of sound micropolitical studies (see Blase 1991, p. 237). Problems (c) and (e) may be overcome by reference to Giddens’ (1992) theory of structuration, to Crozier and Friedberg’s (1993) concept of organizational games, and to Ortmann et al.’s (1990) studies of power in organizational innovation. On this conceptual basis, organizational structure may be seen as an outcome of and resource for social actions which enables and restricts actions, but never fully determines them. Organizations are webs woven from concrete interactions of (self-)interested actors. They acquire some spatial-temporal extension through the actors’ use and reproduction of ‘games.’ The ‘game’ is the point of conceptual intersection in which the analytically divided elements of agency and structure, of individual and organization meet. The game works as an ‘indirect integration mechanism which relates the diverging and\or contradictory action of relatively autonomous actors’ (Crozier and Friedberg 1993, p. 4). In order to take action and to pursue their own interests members of organizations must at least partly use structural resources of the organization i.e., they are forced to play within the organizational rules, and thereby, they reproduce these rules. The functioning of an organization may be explained as ‘result of a series of games articulated among themselves, whose formal and informal rules indirectly integrate the organization members’ contradictory power strategies’ (Ortmann et al. 1990, p. 56). The interlocked character of the games and the high amount of routine elements in social practices are major reasons for the relative stability of organizations (see Altrichter and Salzgeber 2000, p. 106). 13597

Schools, Micropolitics of See also: Educational Innovation, Management of; Educational Leadership; Group Processes in Organizations; Leadership in Organizations, Psychology of; Organization: Overview; Organizational Decision Making; School as a Social System; School Improvement; School Management

Bibliography Altrichter H, Salzgeber S 2000 Some elements of a micropolitical theory of school development. In: Altrichter H, Elliott J (eds.) Images of Educational Change. Open University Press, Buckingham, UK, pp. 99–110 Bacharach S, Lawler E 1980 Power and Politics in Organizations. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco, CA Ball S J 1987 The Micro-Politics of the School. Routledge, London Ball S J 1994 Micropolitics of schools. In: Husen T, Postlethwaite T N (eds.) The International Encyclopedia of Education, 2nd edn. Pergamon, Oxford, UK, pp. 3821–6 Ball S J, Bowe R 1991 Micropolitics of radical change. Budgets, management, and control in British schools. In: Blase J (ed.) The Politics of Life in Schools. Sage, Newbury Park, CA, pp. 19–45 Blase J (ed.) 1991 The Politics of Life in Schools. Sage, Newbury Park, CA Blase J, Anderson G L 1995 The Micropolitics of Educational Leadership. Cassell, London Blickle G 1995 Wie beeinflussen Personen erfolgreich Vorgesetzte, KollegInnen und Untergebene? [How do persons successfully influence superiors, colleagues, and subordinates?] Diagnostica 41: 245–60 Corbett H D, Firestone W A, Rossman G B 1987 Resistance to planned change and the sacred in school cultures. Education Administration Quarterly 23: 36–59 Crozier M, Friedberg E 1993 Die Zwaenge kollekti
en Handelns. Hain, Frankfurt\M., Germany [1980 Actors and Systems. University of Chicago Press, Chicago, IL] Giddens A 1992 Die Konstitution der Gesellschaft. Campus, Frankfurt\M., Germany [1984 The Constitution of Society. Polity Press, Cambridge, UK] Gronn P 1986 Politics, power and the management of schools. In: Hoyle E, McMahon A (eds.) World Yearbook of Education. Kogan Page, London Hoyle E 1982 Micropolitics of educational organizations. Educational Management and Administration 10: 87–98 Iannaconne L 1991 Micropolitics of education–what and why. Education and Urban Society 23: 465–71 Kelchtermans G, Vandenberghe R 1996 Becoming political: a dimension in teachers’ professional development. Paper presented at the AREA-conference. New York (ERIC-document: ED 395-921) Ortmann G, Windeler A, Becker A, Schulz H-J 1990 Computer und Macht in Organisationen [Computers and power in organizations]. Westdeutscher Verlag, Opladen, Germany Pfeffer J 1981 Power in Organizations. Pitman, Boston, MA Sparkes A C 1990 Power, domination and resistance in the process of teacher-initiated innovation. Research Papers in Education 5: 153–78

H. Altrichter 13598

Schumpeter, Joseph A (1883–1950) Joseph A. Schumpeter is one of the best known and most flamboyant economists of the twentieth century. His main accomplishments are to have introduced the entrepreneur into economic theory through Theorie der wirtschaftlichen Entwicklung (1912) and to have produced a magnificent history of economic thought, History of Economic Analysis (posthumously published in 1954). Schumpeter’s interests were wide ranging, and his writings also include contributions to sociology and political science. His analysis of democracy, which can be found in his most popular work, Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy (1942), is generally regarded as an important addition to the theory of democracy.

1. Early Life and Career Joseph Alois Schumpeter was born on February 8, 1883 in the small town of Triesch in the AustroHungarian Empire (today Trest in Slovakia). His father was a cloth manufacturer and belonged to a family which had been prominent in the town for many generations; and his mother, who was the daughter of a medical doctor, came from a nearby village. Schumpeter’s father died when he was four years old, an event that was to have great consequences for the future course of his life. Some time later his mother moved to Graz and then to Vienna, where she got married to a retired officer from a well known, aristocratic family, Sigismund von Ke! ler. Schumpeter was consequently born into a small-town bourgeois family but raised in an aristocratic one; and his personality as well as his work were to contain a curious mixture of values from both of these worlds. After having graduated in 1901 from the preparatory school for the children of the elite in the Empire, Theresianum, Schumpeter enrolled at the University of Vienna. His goal from the very start was to become an economist. Around the turn of the century the University of Vienna had one of the best educations in economics in the world, thanks to Carl Menger and his two disciples Eugen von Bo$ hm-Bawerk and Friedrich von Wieser. Schumpeter had the latter two as his teachers, and he also attended lectures in mathematics on his own. When Schumpeter received his doctorate in 1906, he was 23 years old and the youngest person to have earned this degree in the Empire. After having traveled around for a few years and added to his life experience as well as to his knowledge of economics, Schumpeter returned in 1908 to Vienna to present his Habilitationsschrift. Its title was Das Wesen und der Hauptinhalt der theoretischen NationaloW konomie (1908; The Nature and Essence of Theoretical Economics), and it can be characterized as a work in economic methodology from an analytical perspective. In 1909 Schumpeter was appointed as-

Schumpeter, Joseph A (1883–1950) sistant professor at the University of Czernowitz and thereby became the youngest professor in Germanspeaking academia. It was also at Czernowitz that Schumpeter produced his second work, the famous Theorie der wirtschaftlichen Entwicklung (1912; 2nd edn. from 1926 trans. as The Theory of Economic De
elopment). At the University of Graz, to which he moved as a full professor in 1911, Schumpeter produced a third major study, Epochen der Dogmen- und Methodengeschichte (1914; trans. in 1954 as Economic Doctrine and Method ). Over a period of less than ten years Schumpeter had produced three important works, and one understands why he referred to the third decade in a scholar’s life as ‘the decade of sacred fertility.’

1.1 The Works from the Early Years Das Wesen is today best known for being the place where the term ‘methodological individualism’ was coined. In its time, however, this work played an important role in introducing German students to analytical economics, which Gustav von Schmoller and other members of the Historical School had tried to ban from the universities in Germany. Das Wesen is well written and well argued, but Schumpeter would later regard it as a youthful error and did not allow a second edition to appear. The reason for Schumpeter’s verdict is not known, but it is probably connected to his vigorous argument in the book that economics must sever all links with the other social sciences. While the emphasis in Das Wesen had been exclusively on statics, in his second book, Theorie der wirtschaflichen Entwicklung, it was on dynamics. Schumpeter very much admired Walras’ theory of general equilibrium, which he had tried to explicate in Das Wesen, but he was also disturbed by Walras’ failure to handle economic change. What was needed in economics, Schumpeter argued, was a theory according to which economic change grew out of the economic system itself and not, as in Walras, a theoretical scheme in which economic change was simply explained as a reaction to a disturbance from outside the economic system. Schumpeter starts the argument in Theorie by presenting an economy where nothing new ever happens and which therefore can be analyzed with the help of static theory, that is all goods are promptly sold, no new goods are produced or wanted, and profits are zero. Schumpeter then contrasts this situation of a ‘circular flow’ with a situation in which the activities of the entrepreneur sets the whole economic system in motion, and which can only be explained with the help of a dynamic theory. The model that Schumpeter now presented in Theorie would later be repeated and embellished upon in many of his writings: the entrepreneur makes an innovation, which earns him a huge profit, this profit attracts a swarm of other,

less innovative entrepreneurs and as a result of all these activities a wave of economic change begins to work its way through the economic system, a business cycle, in brief, has been set in motion. The theory of business cycles that one can find in Theorie is fairly rudimentary, and Schumpeter would later spend much time in improving upon it. Much of Schumpeter’s analysis in Theorie is today forgotten and few economists are today interested in the way that Schumpeter explains interest, capital and profit by relating these to the activities of the entrepreneur. Some parts of Theorie, however, are still very much alive and often referred to in studies of entrepreneurship. In one of these Schumpeter discusses the nature of an innovation, and explains how it differs from an invention; while an invention is something radically new, an innovation consists of an attempt to turn something—for example, an invention—into a money-making enterprise. In another famous passage Schumpeter discusses the five main forms of innovations: (1) The introduction of a new good … or of a new quality of a good. (2) The introduction of a new method of production … (3) The opening of a new market … (4) The conquest of a new source of supply of raw materials or halfmanufactured goods … (5) The carrying out of the new organization of any industry, like the creation of a monopoly position … or the breaking up of a monopoly position.

Schumpeter’s description of what drives an entrepreneur is also often referred to, as is his general definition of entrepreneurship: ‘the carrying out of new combinations.’ Schumpeter’s third work from these early years is a brief history of economics, commissioned by Max Weber (1914–20) for a handbook in political economy (Grundriss der SozialoW konomik). Its main thesis is that economics came into being when analytical precision, of the type that one can find in philosophy, came into contact with an interest in practical affairs, of the type that is common among businessmen; and to Schumpeter this meeting took place in the works of the Physiocrats. Epochen der Dogmen- und Methodengeschichte was later overshadowed by the much longer History of Economic Analysis, but while the latter work tends to be used exclusively as a reference work, Schumpeter’s study from 1914 can be read straight through and is also more easy to appreciate.

1.2 Difficult Mid-Years By the mid-1910s Schumpeter had established himself as one of the most brilliant economists in his generation, and like other well-known economists in the Austro-Hungarian Empire he hoped for a prominent political position, such as finance minister or economic adviser to the Emperor. During World War I Schumpeter wrote a series of memoranda, which were 13599

Schumpeter, Joseph A (1883–1950) circulated among the elite of the Empire, and through which he hoped to establish himself as a candidate for political office. The various measures that Schumpeter suggested in these memoranda are of little interest today, for example, that the Empire must not enter into a customs union with its powerful neighbor, Germany. What is of considerably more interest, however, is that they provide an insight into Schumpeter’s political views when he was in his early 30s. Schumpeter’s political profile at this time can be described in the following way: he was a royalist, deeply conservative, and an admirer of tory democracy of the British kind. Schumpeter’s attempt during World War I to gain a political position failed, but his fortune changed after the Empire had fallen apart and the state of Austria came into being. In early 1919 Schumpeter was appointed finance minister in a joint Social Democratic and Catholic Conservative government in Austria, led by Karl Renner. Already by the fall of 1919, however, Schumpeter was forced to resign, mainly because the Social Democrats felt that he had betrayed them and could not be trusted. The Social Democrats in particular thought that Schumpeter had gone behind their backs and stopped their attempts to nationalize parts of Austria’s industry. Schumpeter always denied this, and in retrospect it is difficult to establish the truth. What is clear, however, is that the Austrian Social Democrats advocated a democratic and peaceful form of socialism, while Schumpeter detested all forms of socialism. Loath to go back to his position at the University of Graz, Schumpeter spent the early part of the 1920s working for a small bank in Vienna, the Biedermann Bank. Schumpeter did not take part in the everyday activities of the bank but mainly worked as an independent investor. These activities ended badly, however, and by the mid-1920s Schumpeter was forced to leave the Biedermann Bank and had by this time accumulated a considerable personal debt. For many years to come, Schumpeter would give speeches and write articles in order to pay back his debts. Adding to these economic misfortunes was the death in 1926 of his beloved wife Anna (‘Annie’) Reisinger, a 20 years younger working class girl to whom Schumpeter had only been married for a year. From this time on, Schumpeter’s friends would later say, there was a streak of pessimism and resignation in his personality. In 1925 Schumpeter was appointed professor of public finance at the University of Bonn, and it is clear that he was both pleased and relieved to be back in academia. While his ambition, no doubt, extended to politics and business, he always felt an academic at heart. The great creativity that Schumpeter had shown in the 1910s was, however, not to return in the 1920s, and Annie’s death was no doubt an important reason for this. Schumpeter’s major project during the 1920s was a book in the theory of money, but this work was never completed to his satisfaction Schumpeter 1970). 13600

Schumpeter did, however, write several interesting articles during these years, some of which are still worth reading. One of these is ‘The Instability of Capitalism’ (1928), in which Schumpeter suggests that capitalism is undermining itself and will eventually turn into socialism. Another worthwhile article is ‘Gusta

s. Schmoller und die Probleme
on heute’ (1926), in which Schumpeter argues that economics has to be a broad science, encompassing not only economic theory but also economic history, economic sociology and statistics. Schumpeter’s term for this type of general economics is ‘SozialoW konomik.’ To illustrate what economists can accomplish with the help of sociology, Schumpeter wrote an article on social classes (1927), which is still often referred to. Schumpeter starts out by drawing a sharp line between the way that the concept of class is used in economics and in sociology. In economics, Schumpeter says, class is basically used as a category (e.g., wage-earner\nonwage-earner), while in sociology class is seen as a piece of living reality. An attempt was also made by Schumpeter to link his theory of the entrepreneur to the idea of class. In mentioning Schumpeter’s articles on social classes, something must also be said about two of his other famous studies in sociology: ‘The Fiscal Crisis of the Tax State’ (1918) and ‘The Sociology of Imperialisms’ (1918–19). The former study can be described as a pioneer effort in the sociology of taxation, which focuses on the situation in Austria just after World War I but which also attempts to formulate some general propositions about the relationship between taxation and society. Schumpeter, for example, suggests that if the citizens demand more and more subventions from the state, but are unwilling to pay for these through ever higher taxes, the state will collapse. In the article on imperialism, Schumpeter argues that imperialism grows out of a social situation which is not to be found in capitalism; and whatever imperialist forms that still exist represent an atavism and a leftover from feudal society. Schumpeter’s famous definition of imperialism is as follows: ‘imperialism is the objectless disposition on the part of the state to unlimited forcible expansion.’

2. The Years in the United States By 1930 Schumpeter was still depressed about his life and quite unhappy about his career; he had found no one to replace his wife on an emotional level and he felt that he deserved a better professional position than Bonn. When Werner Sombart’s chair at the University of Berlin became vacant, Schumpeter had high hopes that he would get it. When this did not happen, however, he instead accepted an offer from Harvard University; and in 1932 he moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts for good. Schumpeter was slowly to regain his emotional composure, and also his capacity

Schumpeter, Joseph A (1883–1950) to work, in the United States. In 1937 he got married to economist Elizabeth Boody, who regarded it as her duty in life to take care of Schumpeter and manage his worldly affairs. With the support of his wife, Schumpeter produced three major works: Business Cycles (1939), Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy (1942), and History of Economic Analysis (published posthumously in 1954).

2.1 The Works from the American Period Of these three works, the one for which Schumpeter had the highest hopes was definitely Business Cycles (1939), which appeared exactly 25 years after his last book in Europe. This work is more than 1100 pages long and it traces business cycles in Great Britain, the United States and Germany during the years 1787– 1938. Schumpeter had hoped that Business Cycles would get the kind of reception that Keynes’ General Theory got, and he was deeply disappointed by the lack of interest that his colleagues and other economists showed. The impression one gets from histories of economic thought, however, is that Business Cycles is rarely read today, mainly because few people are persuaded by Schumpeter’s theory that business cycles are set off by innovations and that their motion can be best described as a giant Kondratieff cycle, modified by Juglar and Kitchin cycles; Schumpeter’s handling of statistics is also considered poor. To a large extent this critique is true, although it should also be noted that a number of themes and issues in this and other of Schumpeter’s works are increasingly being referred to in evolutionary economics. After many years of excruciatingly hard work on Business Cycles, Schumpeter decided that he needed an easier task to work on than the recasting of economic theory that was on his agenda since the time in Bonn. In the late 1930s Schumpeter therefore began working on what he saw as a minor study of socialism. This minor study, however, quickly grew in size, and when it finally appeared in 1942—under the title Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy—it was nearly 400 pages long. Of all of Schumpeter’s works (1942), this book was to become the most popular one, especially in the United States where it is still considered a standard work in political science. Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy has also been translated into more languages than any other work by Schumpeter, and it is still in print. Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy contains an interesting history of socialist parties (part V), a fine discussion of the nature of socialism (part III), and an excellent discussion of the work of Karl Marx (part I). What has made this work into a social science classic, however, are its two remaining parts with their discussion of capitalism (part II) and the nature of democracy (part IV). Capitalism, Schumpeter says, can be characterized as a process of continuous

economic change, through which new enterprises and industries are continuously being created and old ones continuously being destroyed. Schumpeter’s famous term for this process is ‘creative destruction.’ Perfect competition of the type that economists talk about, he also says, is a myth; and monopolies, contrary to common belief and economists’ dogma, are often good for the economy. Without monopolies, for example, very expensive forms of research and investments would seldom be undertaken. Schumpeter’s theory of monopolies has led to a large number of studies of innovation. By ‘the Schumpeterian hypothesis’ two propositions are meant: that large firms are more innovative than small firms, and that innovation tends to be more frequent in monopolistic industries than in competitive ones. Each of these hypotheses can in their turn be broken down into further hypotheses. Many decades later the results of all of these studies are still inconclusive, and there is no consensus if monopolistic forms of enterprise further or obstruct innovation (for an overview of research on the Schumpeterian hypothesis, see Kamien and Schwartz 1982). Schumpeter’s overall theory in Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy—the idea that capitalism is on its way to disappear and be replaced by socialism—has, on the other hand, led to little concrete research. One reason for this is probably that many readers of Schumpeter’s book have felt that his argument is very general in nature and at times also quite idiosyncratic. Schumpeter argues, for example, that capitalism tends to breed intellectuals, and that these are hostile to capitalism; that the bourgeois class is becoming unable to appreciate property; and that the general will of the bourgeoisie is rapidly eroding. ‘Can capitalism survive?’ Schumpeter asks rhetorically, and then gives the following answer, ‘No. I do not think it can.’ Schumpeter’s conclusion about the inevitable fall of capitalism has often been sharply criticized (e.g., Heertje 1981). His more general attempt to tackle the question of how social and economic institutions are needed for an economic system to work properly has, however, remained unexplored. There also exists a certain tendency to cite catchy phrases from Schumpeter’s work without paying attention to their organic place in his arguments. What has always been much appreciated in Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy is Schumpeter’s theory of democracy. Schumpeter starts out by criticizing what he calls ‘the classical doctrine of democracy,’ which he characterizes in the following way: ‘the democratic method is that institutional arrangement for arriving at political decisions which realizes the common good by making the people itself decide issues through the election of individuals who are to assemble in order to carry out its will.’ What is wrong with this theory, he argues, is that there is no way of establishing what the common good is. There is also the additional fact that politicians do not have interests 13601

Schumpeter, Joseph A (1883–1950) of their own, according to this theory; their function is exclusively to translate the desires of the people into reality. To the classical type of democracy Schumpeter counterposes his own theory of democracy, which he defines in the following manner: ‘the democratic method is that institutional arrangement for arriving at political decisions in which individuals acquire the power to decide by means of a competitive struggle for the people’s vote.’ Some critics have argued that Schumpeter’s theory is elitist in nature, since democracy is reduced to voting for a political leader at regular intervals. This may well be true, and Schumpeter’s theory of democracy no doubt coexists in his work with contempt for the masses. Regardless of this critique, however, Schumpeter’s theory is generally regarded as being considerably more realistic than the classical doctrine of democracy. World War II was a very trying time for Schumpeter since he felt emotionally tied to German speaking Europe, even though he by now was a US citizen. Schumpeter did not support the Nazis but like many conservatives felt that Communism constituted a more dangerous enemy than Hitler. Schumpeter’s intense hatred of Roosevelt, whom he suspected of being a socialist, also put him on a collision course with the academic community in Cambridge during World War II. In his diary Schumpeter expressed his ambivalence towards Hitler, Jews, Roosevelt and many other things; and in his everyday life he more and more withdrew into solitude and scholarship. The War, in brief, was a very difficult and demoralizing time for Schumpeter. From the early 1940s Schumpeter started to work feverishly on a giant history of economic thought that was to occupy him till his death some ten years later. He did not succeed in completing History of Economic Analysis, which was instead put together by Elizabeth Boody Schumpeter after several years of work. History of Economic Analysis is many times longer than Schumpeter’s history of economics from 1914, and it is also considerably more sophisticated in its approach. Schumpeter’s ambition with this work, it should first of all be noted, was not only to write the history of economic theory, but also to say something about economic sociology, economic history, and economic statistics, the four ‘fundamental fields’ of economics or SozialoW konomik. It should also be mentioned that History of Economic Analysis begins with a very interesting methodological discussion of the nature of economics. This is then followed by a brilliant, though occasionally willful discussion of economics from classical Greece to the years after World War I. The section on twentieth century economics was unfortunately never completed, but it is clear that Schumpeter was very discontent with the failure of his contemporaries to create a truly dynamic economic theory. Schumpeter died in his sleep on January 8, 1950 and the cause was put down as cerebral hemorrhage. Some 13602

of his friends thought that the real reason was overwork, while his diary shows that he had been tired of life for a long time. Schumpeter’s private notes also show that behind the image of brilliant lecturer and iconoclastic author, which Schumpeter liked to project, there was a person who felt deeply unhappy with the way that his life had evolved and with his failure to produce a theory that would revolutionize economic thought. ‘With a fraction of my ideas,’ he wrote in dismay a few years before his death, ‘a new economics could have been founded.’ See also: Business History; Capitalism; Democracy; Democracy, History of; Democracy: Normative Theory; Democratic Theory; Determinism: Social and Economic; Development, Economics of; Development: Social; Economic Growth: Theory; Economic History; Economic Sociology; Economic Transformation: From Central Planning to Market Economy; Economics, History of; Economics: Overview; Economics, Philosophy of; Entrepreneurship; Entrepreneurship, Psychology of; Imperialism, History of; Imperialism: Political Aspects; Innovation and Technological Change, Economics of; Innovation, Theory of; Marxian Economic Thought; Policy History: State and Economy; Political Economy, History of; Social Democracy; Socialism; Statistical Systems: Economic

Bibliography Allen R L 1991 Opening Doors: The Life and Work of Joseph Schumpeter. Transaction Publishers, New Brunswick, NJ Augello M 1990 Joseph Alois Schumpeter: A Reference Guide. Springer-Verlag, New York Harries S E (ed.) 1951 Schumpeter: Social Scientist. Books for Libraries Press, Freeport, New York Heertje A (ed) 1981 Schumpeter’s Vision: Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy After 40 Years. Praeger, New York Kamien M I, Schwartz N L 1982 Market Structure and Inno
ation. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Schumpeter J A 1908 Das Wesen und der Hauptinhalt der theoretischen NationaloW konomie. Duncker and Humblot, Leipzig Schumpeter J A 1912 Theorie der wirtschaftlichen Entwicklung. Duncker & Humblot, Leipzig (actually appeared in 1911, 2nd edn. 1926). [trans. into English in 1934 as The Theory of Economic De
elopment, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA] Schumpeter J A 1914 Epochen der Dogmen- und Methodengeschichte. In: Bu¨cher et al. (eds.) Grundriss der Sozialo¨konomik. I. Abteilung, Wirtschaft und Wirtschaftswissenschaft. J.C.B. Mohr, Tu$ bingen, Germany, pp. 19–124 Schumpeter J A 1926 Gustav vs. Schmoller und die probleme von heute. Schmollers Jahrbuch 50: 337–88 Schumpeter J A 1939 Business Cycles: A Theoretical, Historical and Statistical Analysis of the Capitalist Process. McGrawHill, New York Schumpeter J A 1942 Capitalism, Socialism, and Democracy. Harper and Brothers, New York

SchuW tz, Alfred (1899–1959) Schumpeter J A 1954 History of Economic Analysis. Oxford University Press, New York Schumpeter J A 1954 Economic Doctrine and Method, Oxford University Press, New York Schumpeter J A 1970 Das Wesen des Geldes. Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, Go$ ttingen, Germany Schumpeter J A 1989 The instability of capitalism. In: Schumpeter J A (ed.) Essays. Transaction Publishers, New Brunswick, NJ Schumpeter J A 1991 The crisis of the tax state. In: Schumpeter J A (ed.) The Economics and Sociology of Capitalism. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Schumpeter J A 1991 The sociology of imperialisms. In: Schumpeter J A (ed.) The Economics and Sociology of Capitalism. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Schumpeter J A 1991 Social classes in an ethically homogenous milieu. In: Schumpeter J A (ed.) The Economics and Sociology of Capitalism. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Schumpeter J A 1991 The Economics and Sociology of Capitalism. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Schumpter J A 2000 Briefe\Letters. J.C.B. Mohr, Tu$ bingen, Germany Stolper W F 1994 Joseph Alois Schumpeter: The Pri
ate Life of a Public Man. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Swedberg R 1991 Schumpeter: A Biography. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Weber M (ed.) 1914–20 Grundriss der SozialoW konomik. J.C.B. Mohr, Tu$ bingen, Germany

R. Swedberg

Schu$ tz, Alfred (1899–1959) Alfred Schu$ tz was born in Vienna on April 13, 1899. Here he studied law and social sciences from 1918 to 1921. After receiving his Doctorate of Law he continued his studies in the social sciences until 1923. His teachers included Hans Kelsen, an eminent lawyer, Ludwig von Mises, and Friederich von Wieser, prominent representatives of the Austrian school of economics. Equally important as his university studies was his participation in the informal academic life of Vienna, e.g., his participation in the private seminars of von Mises, where Schu$ tz also cultivated his philosophical interests. In addition to his scholarly activities, Schu$ tz held a full-time job as a bank attorney, a dual life which lasted until 1956. After the annexation of Austria to the Third Reich, Schu$ tz and his family escaped to New York. On his arrival, Schu$ tz got in touch with Talcott Parsons whose Structure of Social Action he intended to review. But despite their intense correspondence (Schu$ tz and Parsons 1978), the contact between Schu$ tz and Parsons broke down. Instead, Schu$ tz became affiliated with the Graduate Faculty at the New School for Social Research in New York where he started teaching as Lecturer in 1943, advancing to a full Professor of Sociology in 1952 and also of Philosophy in 1956. He died on May 20, 1959 in New York.

1. Major Aims of SchuW tz’s Theory Alfred Schu$ tz’s social theory focuses on the concept of the life world, which is understood as a social-cultural world as it is perceived and generated by the humans living in it. Schu$ tz identifies everyday interaction and communication as being the main processes in which the constitution of the life world’s social reality takes place. In this sense, his approach pursues two major goals: the development of a theory of action which reveals the constitution of social reality with its meaning structure given in the commonly shared typical patterns of knowledge, and a description of the life world with its multiple strata of reality emerging from these constituting processes. These leitmotifs merge in a theory of life world constitution—a project which occupied Schu$ tz during the final years of his life.

2. Main Intellectual Sources of the SchuW tzian Approach Schu$ tz’s conception originated in the intellectual discourse in the social sciences and philosophy of the early decades of this century. Schu$ tz developed his position from within a triangular interdisciplinary field marked by Max Weber’s historising interpretative sociology (
erstehende Soziologie), the Austrian economic approach represented by Ludwig von Mises, and the philosophical theories of the stream of consciousness formulated by H. Bergson and E. Husserl. From the very onset, he adopted Max Weber’s view of social reality as a meaningful social-cultural world, as well as his concept of social action as a meaning oriented behavior, and shared Weber’s search for an interpretative method in sociology. He also shared the methodological individualism advocated by Weber and by the Austrian economists who denoted individual action as the starting point of social research. At the same time, he accepted the need for a generalizing theory of action, as stressed by his teacher Ludwig von Mises, and criticized Weber for neglecting to develop the basic framework of such a theory and especially for not inquiring into the constitution of meaning attached to social action. But Schu$ tz’s criticism also addressed the ‘general theory of action’ based on an ‘a priori’ postulate of rational choice put forth by Ludwig von Mises. Schu$ tz rejected this conception since it imposed an abstract framework on actors’ orientation of action and ignored their actual stock of knowledge. In order to analyze how the meaning attached to action is revealed, Schu$ tz referred to the philosophical concepts of Henri Bergons and Edmund Husserl. Both offer insights into the stream of lived experience and into the acts of consciousness in which our world is meaningfully constituted. Schu$ tz adopted the Bergsonian idea of the stream of consciousness in his first scholarly attempts in 1924–28 (Schu$ tz 1982), only to later recognize the difficulties in Bergson’s intuitivism 13603

SchuW tz, Alfred (1899–1959) and to turn to Husserl’s phenomenology which ultimately gave the name to his approach. Husserl was concerned with the acts of consciousness which establish the meaningful taken-for-grantedness of the world in humans’ natural attitude. His term ‘life world,’ which Schu$ tz later assumes, is aimed at the reality constituted in those acts. Based primarily on this philosophical approach, Schu$ tz wrote his first monograph, Der sinnhafte Aufbau der sozialen Welt, in 1932, in which he developed the basic concept of his theory (Schu$ tz 1932). Starting with the criticism on Max Weber mentioned above, he devoted himself to the process in which humans create the social world as a reality that is meaningful and understandable to them.

3. Theory of the Life World with its E
eryday Core In order to grasp the constitution of the social world, Schu$ tz (1932) had to transcend the realm of consciousness and perception analyzed by Husserl. He included both acts of consciousness as well as human action and interaction into the constitutive process under scrutiny. Departing from the transcendental philosophical approach, he developed his own mundane phenomenology which analyzes the constitution of the meaningful reality within social relationships in the everyday world. He proceeded in three steps dealing with three problems constitutive for any theory of action which is searching for the construction of social reality. (a) How does a meaningful orientation of human action emerge? (b) How can we understand the Other? (c) How is socially-shared, intersubjective valid knowledge generated? Following the principle of methodological individualism, Schu$ tz started with the analysis of single individual action. Relying on Bergson’s concept of the inner stream of lived experience and on Husserl’s investigations on intentionality and temporality of consciousness, Schu$ tz first explored the constitution of meaning in subjects as a temporal process. The meaning attached to a lived experience emerges from successive acts of selective reflection aimed towards it and framing it into a context of other experiences. The schemes of experience on which the primary meaning of action, i.e., its project is based, arise from this basic temporal dynamics and plasticity of consciousness. The temporality of the meaning attached to an action manifests itself in two kinds of motivation attached to its different temporal dimensions: ‘in-order-to-moti
es’ which direct action toward the future, and ‘becausemoti
es’ representing the roots of the action in the past. However, the meaning of the project of action changes during the time when the projected action is 13604

going on. The final meaning of an action can be found in the experience perceived by the subject when looking at the changes that have emerged in the meaning structure of the action when the action is completed. The meaning attached to an action and consequently the schemes of experience are thus not only affected by the acts of consciousness but also by the action itself. In his second step, Schu$ tz proceeded to show how the schemes of experience are shaped by interaction and communication. He perceived communication as a process in which two subjective streams of consciousness are coordinated within a social interaction (Wirkensbeziehung). Thus, communication signifies an interaction in which the meaning of ego’s action consists in the intention to evoke a reaction of the alter. Actions in this sense have the function of signs which are mutually indicated and interpreted. The ultimate meaning of my action is revealed in the reaction of the Other and vice versa, therefore communication generates a chain of moti
es where my inorder-to-moti
es become because-moti
es of the Other and provide a common stock of shared patterns of interpretation which allows for mutual understanding even if each of the actors are always referring to their own schemes of experience. In this concept of understanding, based on interaction, Schu$ tz offers his own solution to the problem of intersubjectivity posed by Husserl. The constitution and appropriation of shared knowledge primarily takes place in long-lasting faceto-face interaction (we-relations) where the mutual expectations are learned, verified, and sedimented to typical patterns that can be applied to more remote and anonymous strata of the social world. As a result, the meaning structure of the social world is characterized by typifications of actions, situations, and persons generated in interaction and communication. In these three steps, Schu$ tz laid down the main features of his theory of the life world. In his later work, Schu$ tz (1962, 1964, 1966) determined this communicatively created social reality as the world of everyday life, in which typical patterns are taken for granted, and which represents the intersubjective common core of the reality we live in. Later on (Schu$ tz 1962, 1970), he disclosed further structural characteristics of this everyday core of the life world. Since its typical structure greatly depends on action, it is also the pragmatic orientation selecting the areas where typification processes take place. Both typicality and this kind of selection, which Schu$ tz designated as pragmatic rele
ance, represent two generative principles of order in the everyday world. They determine its formal structure and at the same time, when realized in action, they shape this structure into a concrete social–cultural world, which is thus characterized by social distribution and differentiation of knowledge. A third moment structuring the everyday world can be found in the rootedness of its constitution in individual action. Here actors and their bodies represent the

SchuW tz, Alfred (1899–1959) central point of the e
eryday world and its temporal, spatial, and social dimensions that are arranged into spheres of past and future, of within-reach and distant and of intimacy and anonymity, respectively, to the ctors’ own position (Schu$ tz and Luckmann 1973). Everyday reality is nevertheless not identical with the life world on the whole. By suspending their pragmatic interests, actors are able to modify their everyday experiences and perceive them as objects of a game, fantasy, art, science, or, if the conscious attention is completely absent, as a dream. There are areas—even in the realm of everyday action directed by the principal of pragmatic relevance—which are beyond the sphere of actors everyday practice and therefore transcend it. All these modifications represent different provinces of meaning transcending the everyday world and constituting multiple realities (Schu$ tz 1962) which make up the life world. Nevertheless, among the different provinces of the life world, the everyday core denotes a paramount reality since it is only here that actors, driven by the fundamental anxiety when facing the finality of their lives, have to master their living conditions and are engaged in communicative processes producing common knowledge which makes mutual understanding possible. Schu$ tz (1962) viewed communication as a substantial constitutive mechanism of social reality and stressed the role of language in this process. He considered language—including its syntax and semantics—as an objectivation of sedimented, social provided stock of knowledge that preserves relevances and typification inherent to cultures and social groups, and thus as crucial for the constitution of the life world (Schu$ tz and Luckmann 1989). Schu$ tz saw language as delineating an essential case of social objectified systems of appresentation which bridges the transcendence between different areas and meaning provinces of the life world. Another important integrative mechanism in the life world are symbolic structures, which are often based on language, and intermediate between the everyday world and noneveryday realities such as religion, arts, or politics (Schu$ tz 1962). Schu$ tz did not restrict his study of the structure of the life world solely to theoretical research. He also applied his theory as a general interpretative scheme to several social fields and problems. He explored courses of intercultural communication and the social distribution of knowledge, the social conditions of equality in modern societies as well as the fields of music and literature (Schu$ tz 1964).

4. Consequences of the Theory of Life World for the Methodology of the Social Sciences Schu$ tz considered the construction of ideal types to be the general methodological device in the social sciences since sociology, economy, political science, etc., ex-

plain social phenomena by modeling ideal actors and courses of action which they endorse with special features as explanatory variables. However, he did not see ideal types in the Weberian sense, i.e., as a scientific model which does not need to correspond to reality in all respects. For Schu$ tz, the ideal-typical method is legitimized by his findings on the typicality of everyday world which is the object of social research. Social reality can be approached by type-construction on the scientific level because its immanent structure is typified itself. Thus, the Schu$ tzian theory of the life world and its structures represents a methodological tool to bridge the gap between sociological theoretical reasoning and its object. The methodological rule which Schu$ tz derived from his theoretical approach consists correspondingly in the postulate of adequacy (Schu$ tz 1962, 1964) between everyday and scientific typifications. This postulate holds that ideal types featured by the social sciences have to be constructed in correspondence to the structure of the everyday typifications, so that everyday actors can take the model for granted when they act under the conditions stated in the ideal type. In this sense, social scientists as well as everyday actors have to follow the same frame of reference given by the structure of the life world but their cognitive attitude differ in several respects: scientists neither share the pragmatic interest of everyday actors nor do they share their everyday rationality restricted by their beliefs in the grantedness of typical knowledge. Opposing T. Parson’s functionalism and C. G. Hempel’s methodologic positivism, Schu$ tz stressed that scientists must not impose their own theoretical concepts and rationality on their object of study—the life world. First, they must discover and then respect its immanent meaning structure.

5. The Significance of the SchuW tzian Approach for the Social Sciences Since the 1960s, Schu$ tz’s theory has drawn sociologists’ attention to inquiries into everyday interaction, communication as well as to the insight that social reality has to be considered as a construction produced within these processes. Sociologists started to examine the practices of everyday action, communication and interpretation from which social reality emerges. H. Garfinkel’s (1967) Ethnomethology, which was aimed at finding the formal properties of everyday practices, led to a series of case studies covering a wide range of everyday life in society and its institutions. Continuing this line of research, examinations of everyday communication were provided by E. A. Shegloff and H. Sacks (1995), whose Con
ersational Analysis became a widespread method in qualitative sociological research. A. Cicourel’s (1964) Cogniti
e Sociology revealed the constructed character of data in social institutions as well as in science and thus initiated a 13605

SchuW tz, Alfred (1899–1959) series of studies in the sociology of organization and in the sociology sciences. Milieus as formations of everyday interaction are the subject of the Social Phenomenology R. Grathoff (1986). P. L. Berger and Th. F. Luckmann’s (1966) idea of the Social Construction of Reality (as being a general process in which cultural worlds emerge) triggered new impulses in both the sociology of knowledge and the sociology of culture reconceived now in Schu$ tzian terms. In this context, Schu$ tz’s impact can also be seen in the sociology of language and the sociology of religion. Contemporary Marxian theory saw the way in which Schu$ tz focused on the everyday practice as a possible mediation between social structure and individual consciousness. The term phenomenological sociology was coined in the 1970s (G. Psathas 1973) to address the spectrum of approaches oriented and inspired by Schu$ tz’s theory. Under this label, Schu$ tz’s approach became one of the general paradigms in the interpretative social science and theory of action. The diffusion and empirical application of the Schu$ tzian approach enforced the search for qualitative research methods which would reveal data pertaining to the social construction of social reality in everyday life. Aside from ethnomethodology and conversational analysis mentioned above, this quest especially led to a refinement in the techniques of narrative interviews and in biographical research. Once established in the 1970s, the Schu$ tzian paradigm influenced the mainstream of sociological theory which became sensitive not only to the social construction of life world but also to the phenomenological background of the Schu$ tzian theory. The ‘life world,’ in the sense of a basic social reality provided by humans in their ‘natural’ intercourse, became one of the central terms in social theory (J. Habermas 1981). The everyday construction of social reality was recognized as a crucial mechanism in which society emerges (P. Bourdieu 1972, A. Giddens 1976, Z. Baumann 1991). The phenomenological conception of meaning constitution reformulated as an autopoiesis (selfcreation) of social and psychic systems influenced the development of the contemporary sociological system theory (N. Luhmann 1996). Beyond of the scope of sociology, other humanities also gained innovative impulses from the Schu$ tzian approach. In philosophy, Schu$ tz’s theory led to a critical assessment of the Husserlian view of intersubjectivity and to the conceptions of a worldly phenomenology (L. Embree 1988) or of a philosophy of modern anonymity (M. Natanson 1986). In the literature, Schu$ tz’s constructionism inspired the esthetics of reception which pointed out the beholder’s participation in co-creating the autonomous reality of literary works (H. R. Jauss 1982). Schu$ tz’s concept of the structure of life world also affected theorizing in social geography (B. Werlen 1993), educational theory (K. Meyer-Drawe 1984), and political science (E. Voegelin 1966). 13606

See also: Constructivism\Constructionism: Methodology; Culture, Sociology of; Ethnomethodology: General; Everyday Life, Anthropology of; Husserl, Edmund (1859–1938); Interactionism: Symbolic; Interpretive Methods: Micromethods; Knowledge, Sociology of; Methodological Individualism: Philosophical Aspects; Phenomenology in Sociology; Phenomenology: Philosophical Aspects; Verstehen und Erkla$ ren, Philosophy of; Weber, Max (1864–1920)

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Science and De
elopment Schu$ tz A, Luckmann T 1989 Structures of Life World II. Northwestern University Press, Evanston, IL Schu$ tz A, Parsons T 1978 Theory of Social Action: The Correspondence of Alfred SchuW tz and Talcott Parsons. Indiana University Press, Bloomington, IN Srubar I 1988 Kosmion die Genese der pragmatischen Lebensweltheorie
on Alfred SchuW tz und ihr anthropologischer Hintergrund. Suhrkamp, Frankfurt am Main, Germany Wagner H R 1983 Alfred SchuW tz. An Intellectual Biography. University of Chicago Press, Chicago Werlen B 1993 Society, Action and Space. An Alternati
e Human Geography. Routledge, London Voegelin E 1966 Anamnesis. Zur Theorie der Geschichte und Politik. Piper, Munich

I. Srubar

Science and Development Duringthepasthalf-century,conventionalunderstandings of science, development, and their relationship have changed radically. Formerly, science was thought to refer to a clear and specific variety of Western knowledge with uniformly positive effects on society. Formerly, development was viewed as a unidirectional process of social change along Western lines. Formerly, science was viewed as a powerful contributor to the developmental process. Each of these ideas has been subjected to insightful criticism. This article will examine science and development, concluding that the relationship between the two is problematic, partly because of the complexity of the concepts themselves. Three major theories of development are considered, together with the main types of research institutions in developing areas.

1. Science Much of what is termed science in developing areas is far from what would be considered ‘pure science’ in the developed world. The ‘root concept’ of science involves research, the systematic attempt to acquire new knowledge. In its modern form, this involves experimentation or systematic observation by highly trained specialists in research careers, typically university professors with state-of-the-art laboratory equipment. These scientists seek to contribute to a cumulative body of factual and theoretical knowledge, testing hypotheses by means of experiments and reporting their results to colleagues through publication in peer-reviewed journals. Yet when a new variety of seed is tested by a national research institute and distributed to farmers in Africa, this is described as the result of ‘science.’ When the curator of a botanical exhibit has a college

degree, he or she may be described as ‘the scientist.’ When a newspaper column discusses malaria or AIDS, ‘scientific treatments’ are recommended. Seeds, educated people, and advice are not science in the abstract and lofty sense of the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake or systematically verified facts about the world. But they are science from the standpoint of those who matter—local people who spend scarce resources on their children’s education, development experts who determine how and where to spend funds, politicians who decide whether to open a new university, corporate personnel who open a new factory in a developing region. Perhaps the most important shift in recent thinking about science is a broadening of the scholarly view to include the ideas of science found among ordinary people. These are often more extended in developing areas, because of the association of science with ‘modern’ things and ideas. ‘Science’ in its extended sense includes technological artifacts, trained expertise, and knowledge of the way the world works. The importance of this point will be clear in the conclusion. Given the fuzziness of the boundaries that separate science from other institutions, and the dependence of modern research on sophisticated technical equipment, the term ‘technoscience’ is often used to denote the entire complex of processes, products, and knowledge that flows from modern research activities. Even if we recognize that the term ‘science’ has extended meanings, it is useful to draw a distinction between (a) the institutions that produce knowledge and artifacts and (b) the knowledge that is produced. That is, on the one hand, there are organizations, people, and activities that are devoted to the acquisition of knowledge and things that can be produced with knowledge. These constitute the modern organization of research. On the other hand, there are claims involving knowledge and artifacts—often significantly transformed as they leave the confines of the research laboratory. What makes claims and practices ‘scientific’ is their association with scientific institutions. Modern research capacity is concentrated in industrialized countries. Indeed, with respect to the global distribution of scientific and technical personnel, scientific organizations, publications, citations to scientific work, patents, equipment, and resources, scientific institutions display extremely high degrees of inequality. The most common indicator of scientific output is publications. In 1995, Western Europe, North America, Japan, and the newly industrialized countries accounted for about 85 percent of the world total. Leaving aside countries and allies of the former Soviet Union, developing areas contributed less than 9 percent of the world total. Much the same applies to technological output measured in patents and expenditures on research and development (UNESCO 1998). Yet if we shift our focus from the question of inequality to the question of diffusion, an entirely different picture arises. To what extent have the idea 13607

Science and De
elopment and practice of research spread throughout the world? The main issues here involve who conducts research, on what subjects, and what happens to the results. Each of these topics is the subject of analysis and controversy. Scientific research in developing countries began during the pre-independence era with the establishment of universities and research institutes. Research was conducted on crops and commodities for export as well as conditions (e.g., disease) that affected the profits sought by external agents from their control over the land, labor, and property of colonized peoples. Methodologies and organizational models for research were brought by European colonists to Asia, Africa, and Latin America. During the era of independence and throughout the 1970s, number of types of entities engaged in the generation of knowledge multiplied. The main scientific organizations now fall into five main types, or sectors: academic departments, state research institutes, international agencies, private firms and, to a lesser degree, nongovernmental organizations.

2. De
elopment The concept of development involves several dimensions of transformation, including the creation of wealth (that is, rapid and sustained economic growth) and its distribution in a fashion that benefits a broad spectrum of people rather than a small elite (that is, a reduction in social inequality). Cultural transformation (recognition of and attendant value placed on local traditions and heritage) has also been viewed as an important aspect of the process since the early 1980s. There is general agreement that development in the second half of the twentieth century is not a mere recapitulation of the process of industrialization that characterized Europe and North America in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Three theoretical perspectives, with many variations, have dominated development studies: modernization, dependency, and institutional. One way of distinguishing these theories is by their position on the ways in which relationships external to a country affect the process of change. Since scientific institutions and knowledge claims are of external origin, each of these perspectives views science and technology as important in the development process, with very different assessments of the costs and benefits.

2.1 Modernization The oldest approach, sometimes called modernization theory, focused on the shift from a traditional, rural, agricultural society to a modern, urban, industrial form. Transformations internal to a country (such as formal education, a market economy, and democratic 13608

political structures) are emphasized, while external relationships are de-emphasized. However, science was the exception to this, available to benefit developing nations through technology transfer from Western sources. This idea relied on two assumptions. One was the ‘hardness’ of technological artifacts—their alleged independence from people and culture, their seeming ability to produce certain effects ‘no matter what.’ The second was the ‘linear model’ of technology development in which the (a) discoveries of basic science lead to the (b) practical knowledge of applied science and finally to (c) technological applications such as new products. In retrospect, both of these assumptions were simplistic in any context, but in the developing world they were especially problematic. The assumption of ‘hardness’ has been replaced by the generalization that the uses, effects, and even the meanings of technological artifacts are affected by the context of use. First, effective technologies, from automobiles to indoor plumbing, do not typically stand alone, but are embedded in systems that provide infrastructure (roads, sewage treatment) which is often lacking. Second, the provision of artifacts such as buildings and computers is much easier than their maintenance, whichrequiresboth resources and knowledge. Third, introduction of new technology involves a multiplicity of consequences—positive and negative, short term and long term, economic and ecological. Many of these consequences are unpredictable, even in those rare cases where such foresight is attempted. The case of the Green Revolution is illustrative. In the 1960s, widespread food shortages, population growth, and predicted famine in India prompted major international foundations to invest research and technology transfer efforts towards the goals of increasing agricultural productivity and the modernization of technology. What resulted were new kinds of maize, wheat, and rice. These modern varieties promised higher yields and rapid maturity, but not without other inputs and conditions. They were, rather, part of a ‘package’ that required fertilizers as well as crop protection inputs such as pesticides, herbicides, and fungicides—sometimes even irrigation and mechanization. Moreover, seed for these varieties had to be purchased anew each year. The consequences of the Green Revolution are still debated, and there is little doubt that many of them were positive. Famine in India was averted through increased yields, but the benefits of the technology required capital investments that were only possible for wealthier farmers. Not only did the adoption of new technology increase dependence on the suppliers of inputs, but it was claimed to increase inequality by hurting the small farmer—one intended beneficiary of the technology. The actual complexity of the outcomes is revealed by one of the most sophisticated assessments—modern seed varieties do reach small farmers, increase employment, and decrease food prices, but the benefits are less than expected because the poor are

Science and De
elopment increasingly landless workers or near landless farm laborers (Lipton and Longhurst 1989). What is important for the question of the relationship between science and development is that the products and practices of the Green Revolution were research-based technology. This technology was often developed in international research institutes funded by multilateral agencies such as the World Bank and bilateral donors such as the US Agency for International Development. Since the combined resources of these donors dwarf those of many poor countries, their developmental and research priorities constitute a broad global influence on the nature of science for development. The largest and most visible of these organizations form a global research network, the Consultative Group for International Agricultural Research (CGIAR) which grew from 4 to 13 centers during the 1970s as support by donors quadrupled. The influence of this network of donors and international agencies was clearly evident in the early 1990s when environmental concerns led to an emphasis on ‘sustainability’ issues. This led to a change in CGIAR priorities, as the older emphasis on agricultural productivity shifted to the relatively more complex issue of natural resource management. 2.2 Dependency Modernization theory emphasized internal factors while making an exception of science. Dependency theory and its close relative, world system theory, emphasized the role of external relationships in the developmental process. Relationships with developed countries and particularly with multinational corporations were viewed as barriers. Economic growth was controlled by forces outside the national economy. Dependency theory focused on individual nations, their role as suppliers of raw materials, cheap labor, and markets for expensive manufactured goods from industrialized countries. The unequal exchange relationship between developed and developing countries was viewed as contributing to poor economic growth. World system theory took a larger perspective, examining the wider network of relationships between the industrialized ‘core’ countries, impoverished ‘peripheral’ countries, and a group of ‘semiperipheral’ countries in order to show how some are disadvantaged by their position in the global system. Because of their overspecialization in a small number of commodities for export, the unchecked economic influence of external organizations, and political power wielded by local agents of capital, countries on the periphery of the global capitalist system continue to be characterized by high levels of economic inequality, low levels of democracy, and stunted economic growth. What is important about the dependency account is that science is not viewed in benign terms, but rather as one of a group of institutional processes that con-

tribute to underdevelopment. As indicated above, research is highly concentrated in industrialized countries. Dependency theory adds to this the notion that most research is also conducted for their benefit, with problems and technological applications selected to advance the interests of the core. The literature on technology transfer is also viewed in a different light. The development of new technology for profit is associated with the introduction and diffusion of manufactured products that are often unsuited to local needs and conditions, serving to draw scarce resources away from more important developmental projects. The condition of dependency renders technological choice moot. This concern with choice, associated with the argument that technology from abroad is often imposed on developing countries rather than selected by them, has resurfaced in many forms. In the 1970s it was behind the movement known as ‘intermediate’ technology, based on the work of E. F. Schumacher, which promoted the use of small-scale, labor-intensive technologies that were produced locally rather than of complex, imported, manufactured goods. These ‘appropriate’ technologies might be imported from abroad, but would be older, simpler, less mechanized, and designed with local needs in mind. What these viewpoints had in common was a critical approach to the adoption of technology from abroad. By the late 1980s and 1990s even more radical positions began to surface, viewing Western science as a mechanism of domination. These arguments were more closely related to ecological and feminist thought than to the Marxist orientation of dependency theory. Writers such as Vandana Shiva proposed that Western science was reductionist and patriarchal in orientation, leading to ‘epistemic violence’ through the separation of subject and object in the process of observation and experimentation (1991). ‘Indigenous knowledge’ and ‘non-Western science’ were proposed as holistic and sustainable alternatives to scientific institutions and knowledge claims. Such views had an organizational base in nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), which received an increasing share of development aid during this period, owing to donor distrust of repressive and authoritarian governments in developing areas. NGOs have been active supporters of local communities in health, community development, and women’s employment, even engaging in research in alternative agriculture (Farrington and Bebbington 1993). 2.3 Institutional Theory Institutional theory seeks to explain why nations are committed to scientific institutions as well as what forms these take. The central theme is that organizational structures developed in industrialized countries are viewed by policy makers, donors, and other states as signals of progress towards modern institutional 13609

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elopment development and hence worthy of financial support. Regardless of the positive or negative consequences of their activities, the introduction and maintenance of certain forms in tertiary education and government serves to communicate this commitment. Institutional theory provides an account of the growth and structure of the academic and state research sectors, as successful organizations in industrialized nations operate as models far from their original contexts. Academic departments consist of researchers grouped by subject, each of whom is relatively free to select research projects. They bear the closest resemblance to the root concept of science introduced at the beginning of this article. But research requires time and resources. In areas such as sub-Saharan Africa, laboratories and fieldwork are poorly funded, if at all, since many institutions can barely afford to pay salaries. Professors teach, consult, and often maintain other jobs. Research is conducted as a secondary activity and professional contacts with other scientists in Europe and the US are few. Equally important to the scientific establishment are state research institutes. These organizations are agencies of the state, they are charged with performing research with relevance to development, with health and agriculture the two most important content areas. They are linked to ministries, councils, and international agencies as well as systems (such as Extension Services in agriculture) that deliver technology to users—again based on a model from the developed world.

3. Relationships Between Science and De
elopment The popularity of dependency arguments and the resurgence of interest in indigenous forms of knowledge implies continued competition for older views of the uniformly positive effects of science. Institutional theory provides an alternative account of the spread of science and its organizational forms. But two features of current scholarship may prove more significant in the long run. First, extreme diversity exists among developing areas in terms of their economic, social, and cultural patterns. It makes decreasing sense to speak of ‘development’ as an area of study. Latin American nations, for example, are generally far better positioned than the nations of sub-Saharan Africa. There is even wide variation within countries, as the case of India makes clear. While much of India qualifies as a developing area, it is among the world’s top producers of scientific work, has a technically skilled, Englishspeaking labor force second only to the US, and is a leading exporter of computer software for corporations. Second, ‘science’ is viewed as having many dimensions, many effects, and fuzzy institutional boundaries, 13610

but it is always a feature of the modern, industrial, interconnected world. Science cannot be the cause of modernization because, in its diverse institutional articulations and its evolving fit with society, science exemplifies the meaning of modernization itself. See also: Biomedical Sciences and Technology: History and Sociology; Development: Social-anthropological Aspects; Development Theory in Geography; Innovation and Technological Change, Economics of; Research and Development in Organizations; Science and Technology, Anthropology of; Science and Technology: Internationalization; Science and Technology, Social Study of: Computers and Information Technology; Technology, Anthropology of

Bibliography Baber Z 1996 The Science of Empire: Scientific Knowledge, Ci
ilization, and Colonial Rule in India. State University of New York Press, Albany, NY Farrington J, Bebbington A 1993 Reluctant Partners: Nongo
ernmental Organisations, the State, and Sustainable Agricultural De
elopment. Routledge, London Gaillard J 1991 Scientists in the Third World. University of Kentucky Press, Lexington, KY Kloppenburg J 1988 First the Seed: The Political Economy of Plant Biotechnology. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Lipton M, Longhurst R 1989 New Seeds and Poor People. Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, MD Pearse A 1980 Seeds of Plenty, Seeds of Want: Social and Economic Implications of the Green Re
olution. Clarendon Press, Oxford, UK Schumacher E F 1973 Small is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered. Harper and Row, New York Shahidullah S 1991 Capacity Building in Science and Technology in the Third World. Westview Press, Boulder, CO Shiva V 1991 The Violence of the Green Re
olution. Zed Books, London Shrum W, Shenhav Y 1995 Science and technology in less developed countries. In: Jasanoff S, Markle G, Peterson J, Pinch T (eds.) Handbook of Science and Technology Studies. Sage, Thousand Oaks, CA Stewart F 1977 Technology and Underde
elopment. Westview Press, Boulder, CO UNESCO 1998 World Science Report 1998. Elsevier, Paris Yearley S 1988 Science, Technology, and Social Change. Unwin Hyman, London

W. Shrum

Science and Industry The premodern industrial craft economy provided the initial intersection of industry with science through scientific instrument making. The development of scientific inquiry through craft-based production, and its effects, can be seen in Galileo and the telescope, chang-

Science and Industry ing the world-picture and the place of humans within it. From as early as Leeuwenhoek’s microscope to as late as the making of the Hubble telescope in the 1980s, lens and mirror construction was an uncertain art, not fully amenable to scientific analysis and control. The invention of moveable type transformed the transfer of knowledge, through storage and retrieval devices, and facilitated the development of modern scientific as well as popular literature. However, it was the development of the steam engine by a scientifically informed inventor, James Watt, which led to a systematization of practice that could be analyzed scientifically, becoming the basis for the next advance. This process gave rise to a new term, technology, to denote an innovation process as well as its results. Technology is the feedback link between science and industry. Invented in the eighteenth century, this new concept represented, on the one hand, the systematization of craft, through the creation of engineering disciplines, originally to quantify and sytematize the construction of military fortifications (Calvert 1967). On the other hand, technology was also derived from the extension of science. This occurred through the creation of applied sciences such as solid state physics and the invention of semiconductor devices such as the transistor. This article surveys the relationship between science and industry since the 1700s.

1. Early Science and Industrial De
elopment Science originated in the seventeenth century as organized investigation of the natural world according to relatively secure methodological principles. In this era, practical and theoretical concerns each provided between 40–60 percent of the impetus to research, with some overlap (Merton 1938). Well before science was institutionalized in universities and research institutes, individual scientists, loosely connected through scientific societies, provided an occasional basis for industrial development. For example, in the absence of reliable navigational techniques, commerce was impeded by the need for ships to stay close to shorelines. In response to a prize offered by the British government, astronomers used their observational techniques and knowledge base to develop star charts useful to navigators. Their involvement in solving a commercial problem was secured without incurring explicit costs. These were considered to be assumable by the astronomers themselves, with navigational research considered as an offshoot of their government or academic responsibilities that could be carried out at marginal cost. Clockmakers approached the problem from the opposite stance by adapting a mechanical device to the solution of the navigational problem. Of lower status and with lesser financial resources and institutional backing than the astronomers, a clockmaker who

arrived at a mechanical solution to the problem had great difficulty in being taken seriously by the judges of the competition. Moreover, as an independent craftsman he was dependent upon receiving intermediate financial dispensations from government to improve his device. Nevertheless, science and craft intersected to overcome blockages to the flow of trade by providing reliable navigational methods (Sobel 1996). Science became more directly involved in industrial production in seventeenth century Germany when professors of pharmacy invented medical preparations in the course of their experimentation. With support from some German princely states, and in collaboration with entrepreneurs, firms were formed to commercialize these pharmaceutical discoveries. Thus, the academic spin-off process, with governmental and industrial links, was adumbrated at this time (Gustin 1975).

2. Incremental Inno
ation: Learning by Doing In an era when most industry was craft based, incremental improvements arose primarily from workers’ experience with the process of production. For example, in the course of firing bricks a worker might notice that a brick had attained exceptional strength under high heat and then attempt, through trial and error, to duplicate what the observation of a chance event had brought to light. Eventually, the conditions that produced the original improved brick might be approximately reproduced and a sufficiently high rate of production achieved, with the ‘experimenter’ knowing more or less how but not really why the useful result had been achieved (Landes 1969). Scientific advance was also built upon what is now called ‘learning by doing’ (Lundvall and Borras 1997). By interviewing various practitioners, researchers began to collate and systematize their local knowledge into broader syntheses. Thus, advances in understanding of stratigraphy derived from miners’ practical experience in eighteenth-century Italy (Vaccari 2000). Much, if not most, innovation still takes place through craft-based experience. Indeed, scientific principles and methods such as those developed in operations research have recently been applied to systematize incremental innovation. Incremental innovation itself has been scientized through the application of statistical techniques, pioneered in Japan during the 1930s by the disciples of Edward Deming, the US researcher, who only later gained consulting opportunities and renown in his own country.

3. The Industrialization of Science The connection between academe, science, and industry strengthened with the invention of the chemistry laboratory as a joint teaching and research format 13611

Science and Industry by Justus Liebig at the University of Giessen in the mid-nineteenthth century (Brock 1997). Having achieved reliable analytical methods, Liebig could assign an unsolved problem to a student and expect a solution to arise in due course, with a minimum of supervision from the master or his assistants. The teaching laboratory model then spread to other experimental fields. As an organizational innovation combined with replicable methods of investigation, the laboratory allowed training and original investigation to be coordinated and expanded, creating a larger market for research equipment. Alexander Von Humboldt theorized the unity of teaching and research as an academic model as well as a practical tenet (Oleson and Voss 1979). The incorporation of science into the university along with methods to revive classical knowledge led to the development of research as an academic practice. The research university model was transferred from Germany to the US in the mid-nineteenth century and eventually became the base for technology transfer and firm formation (Jencks and Riesman 1968). Liebig, himself, attempted to take the development of technology from academic research a step further by starting businesses based upon his scientific discoveries. His mix of successes and failures foreshadowed the contemporary science-based firm. Nevertheless, this was an unusual combination of roles of researcher and entrepreneur in one person at the time (Jones 1993). More typically, the professor’s students made technology arising from scientific research into companies. Thus, the emblem of the Zeiss optical firm incorporates a portrait of the original founders, including professor and student.

4. The Foundation of Firms Based on Scientific Research With the invention of the laboratory, instrument making was internalized within science. As science and the need for research equipment grew, instrument production began to be externalized and made into an industry. Scientific instrument making is an early source of firm formation linked to academic research. For example, scientist-initiated instrument firms grew up around MIT and Harvard in the late nineteenth century, along with consulting firms such as A. D. Little providing a formal overlay of relationships between university and industry, beyond personal ties between teacher and former student. Until quite recently, scientific instrument making was a specialized niche industry, having more to do with academia than industry. A shift toward dual use industrial and scientific technologies began to occur with the development of electronic instrumentation. Oscilloscopes served as research tools, for example, to record nerve impulses in physiology, but were also utilized to provide quality assurance in industrial 13612

production. The formation of the Hewlett Packard and Varian Corporations, based upon innovations in electronics in the physics department at Stanford University in the 1930s, exemplify this transitional phase in the relationship between scientific instrumentation and industry (Lenoir 1997). Industrialized science is exemplified today by massproduced scientific equipment such as the sequencing machines crucial to the human genome project. What is new is the breakdown of the distinction between scientific instrumentation and the means of industrial production. This has occurred through the emergence of technologies such as computers that have broad application to science, business, art, and other techniques (Ellul 1964). Indeed, the computer is a machine with such protean implications that it became the basis of a science itself and contributed to the creation of a new class of sciences of the artificial.

5. The Rise of Science-based Industry Although it had its precursors in China, with gunpowder, paper making, and the organizational technology of bureaucracy, the science–industry interface has been rationalized in the West and North and transferred to the East and South in the modern era. Karl Marx, the initiator of the theory of sciencebased industry, even though he lost confidence and retreated to a labor theory of value, was far seeing. In the late nineteenth century, he had one example on which to base his thesis, the British chemist Perkin’s research on aniline-based dyes that was translated into an industry in Germany. According to a close observer, ‘Science and technology may have converged circa 1900’ (Wise 1983). The rise of the chemical and electrical industries in the late nineteenth century fulfilled some of the promise of science for industrial development. Nevertheless, even in these industries the translation of science into useful products often had an intervening phase based on ‘cut and try methods that only later became rationalized as in the unit method of scaling up chemical production (Servos 1980). Thomas Alva Edison, the inventor of the electric light, was also the inventor of the systematic production of inventions. His ‘idea factory,’ staffed by formally trained scientists and craftspersons, provided a support structure for the application of Edison’s basket of techniques to a series of technical problems whose solution was the basis for the creation of new industries and firms (Israel 1998). One of these companies, the General Electric Corporation (GE), took the connection between science and industry one step further in the US by hiring an academic scientist to organize a research laboratory for the firm. GE’s hiring of Willis Whitney brought the consulting function of academics to industrial problems within the firm and also created a new source of

Science and Industry product development, the corporate R&D laboratory (Wise 1983). A reverse relationship between science and engineering exists when corporations have ‘first mover’ rather than ‘follower’ business strategies. Siemens, for example, developed new business on the basis of advanced research in semiconductors during the early postwar period while its competitor, AEG, waited to see if a sufficient market developed before entering a field. Indeed, Siemen’s confidence in science was so great that it did not employ sufficient engineers to refine and lower the cost of its production (Serchinger 2000). The function of the corporate R&D lab was at least threefold: (a) maintain contact with the academic world and other external sources of information useful to the firm; (b) assist in solving problems in production processes and product development originating within the firm; and (c) originate new products within and even beyond the existing areas of activity of the firm. A few corporate labs, typically in ‘public’ industries such as telecommunications took on a fourth function as quasi-universities, contributing to the advance of science itself (Nelson 1962). Smaller firms typically focused on the first two functions, close to production, while larger firms more often spanned the entire range of activities (Reich 1987).

6. Uni
ersity–Industry–Go
ernment Relations Models for close public–private cooperation that were invented before World War II have recently been revived and expanded (Owens 1990). During the early postwar period, an institutional division of labor arose in R&D, with industry supporting applied research; government funding basic research in universities and research institutes; and universities providing knowledge and trained persons to industry (Reingold 1987). This ‘virtuous circle’ still accurately describes much of the university–industry–government relationship (Kevles 1977) Socialist countries developed a variant of this format, attempting to create closer connections to research and production through central planning mechanisms. However, by locating the R&D function in so-called branch institutes, socialist practice actually created a distance between research and production that was even greater than in capitalist firms that located their R&D units geographically apart from production while retaining organizational ties. Recently, socialist and, to some extent, large corporate formats for R&D have been decomposed and recombined in new formats. In the US, where these developments have taken their most advanced form to date, several innovations can be identified including: (a) Universities extending their functions from research and training into technology development and firm formation through establishment of new organ-

izational mechanisms such as centers, technology transfer offices, and incubator facilities. (b) The rise of start-up, high-tech firms, whether from universities, large corporate laboratories, or previous failed spin-offs, providing a new dynamic element in the science–industry relationship, both as specialized research organizations and as production units rooted in scientific advance. (c) A new role for government in encouraging collaboration among various academic and industrial units, large and small, in industrial innovation going beyond the provision of traditional R&D funding, including laws changing ‘the rules of the game’ and programs to encourage collaboration among firms and between universities and firms. An industrial penumbra appears around scientific institutions such as universities and research laboratories, creating feedback loops, as well as conflicts of interest and commitment between people involved in the two spheres. Over time, as conflicts are resolved, new hybrid forms of science-based industry and research, as well as new roles such as the industrial and entrepreneurial scientist, are institutionalized (Etzkowitz 2001).

7. Conclusion Economic development is increasingly based on science and technology at the local, regional, national, and multinational levels. The science–industry connection, formerly an ancillary and subsidiary aspect of both science and industry, now moves to the center of the stage of economic development strategy as the university and other knowledge-creating organizations become a source of new industry. Political entities at all of these levels develop policies and programs to enhance the science–industry interface, and especially to encourage high-tech firm formation (Etzkowitz et al. 2000). The ‘endless frontier’ model of ‘knowledge flows,’ transferred to industry through publications and graduates was insufficient to induce industrial innovation in most cases (Brown 1999). Closer connections were required. A series of organizational innovations to enhance technology transfer took place along a continuum: providing training in entrepreneurship, translation of research findings into intellectual property rights, and encouraging the early stages of firm formation. The potential for participation in knowledge-based economic development revivifies the discredited nineteenth century notion of progress. During the colonial era, technology transfer typically took place in a format that helped maintain political control, and the higher forms of tacit knowledge were kept secret by employing expatriate engineers. Nevertheless, as in India, a steel industry, created by local entrepreneurs, provided an economic base for a political indepen13613

Science and Industry dence movement. Moreover, a seemingly overexpanded higher educational system, originally put in place to train lower level bureaucrats and technicians, has become an engine of growth for India’s software industry. The synthesis of science and industry is universalized, as both industrial and natural heritages, such as machine-tool industry in German and biodiversity in Brazil, are integrated into new global configurations, often through local firms in strategic alliance with multinationals. Given the decreasing scale of scientific equipment and the increasing availability of higher education, countries and regions in virtually every part of the world can take advantage of opportunities to develop niches. A trend toward worldwide technological innovation has transformed the previous designations of third and second worlds into the ‘emerging world.’ New candidates for science-based economic growth bridge the expected gaps between ‘long waves’ of economic growth. Heretofore, the technology-based long waves identified by Freeman and his co-workers were made possible by a few key technologies; that is, information technology and biotechnology (Freeman and Soete 1997). The potential for growth from technologies such as solar photovoltaics, multimedia, and the Internet, and new materials arising from nanotechnology are so numerous that there is little or no technical reason, only political, for business cycles with declines as well as rises. See also: History of Science; History of Technology; Industrial Society\Post-industrial Society: History of the Concept; Industrial Sociology; Innovation: Organizational; National Innovation Systems; Reproductive Rights in Developing Nations; Science, Technology, and the Military; Scientific Revolution: History and Sociology

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H. Etzkowitz

Science and Law The relationship between law and science has occupied scientists, philosophers, policymakers, and social analysts since the early modern period. Nature, according

Science and Law to science’s early modern practitioners, was governed by law-like regularities—God’s laws—and the work of science lay in discerning and revealing these laws of nature. In time, however, human law came to be seen as a fallible institution in need of rationalization, to be made more like a science in order to avoid arbitrariness. For early twentieth-century legal reformers, science provided a model of regularity for law to aspire to. At the same time, law and science were viewed by their practitioners as independent institutions, each with its own organization, practices, objectives, and ethos. Similarities and differences between the two fields were noted by many observers, with frequent commentary on conflicts between the law’s desire for justice and science’s commitment to the truth. By the end of the twentieth century, a new preoccupation with the law’s instrumental uses of science emerged, which led to divergent schools of thought about the epistemological status of scientific evidence and the ways in which legal and policy institutions should interact with scientific experts. The growth of the state’s regulatory powers increased governments’ dependence on scientific methods and information, and disputes developed about the extent to which science could reliably answer the questions put to it by legislators, regulators, and litigants. An influx of technically complex disputes caused judicial systems to reassess their handling of scientific and technical evidence. Analysts of these processes grappled with questions about the law’s capacity to render justice under conditions of scientific and social uncertainty, as well as the continued relevance of the lay jury and the role of legal proceedings in the production of scientific knowledge. This article reviews the resulting scholarship on the nature and consequences of the law–science relationship under four major headings. One concerns the role of these two institutions in shaping the authority structures of modernity, particularly in legitimating the exercise of power in democratic societies. A second relates to the law’s impact on the objectives, status, and professional practices of scientific disciplines relevant to the resolution of social problems. A third focuses on responses by courts and their critics to the challenges posed by experts in the legal system, including shifts in the rules governing expert testimony. Fourth and finally, an emerging line of research looks at the law as a site for generating scientific and technical knowledge and inquires into the implications of collaboration between law and science for individual and social justice.

1. Law and Science in the Transition to Modernity Since the origins of modern scientific thought, the term ‘law’ has been used to describe both the regularities discernible in nature and the rules laid down by

religious or secular authorities to guide human conduct. Both kinds of laws, it was once popularly assumed, embodied principles that should work always and everywhere in the same fashion, even though Robert Boyle, an early modern founder of experimental science, cautioned against too literal an assimilation of the behavior of matter under natural law to the behavior of human agents under civil law (Shapin 1994, pp. 330–1). As certain facts about human nature and behavior (such as the approximate equality of humans, their vulnerability, and the limits of their resources and altruism) came to be accepted as given, modern legal theorists adopted more synthetic views regarding the relationship between science and law. According to the renowned British scholar of jurisprudence H. L. A. Hart, for example, these natural facts underwrite a ‘natural law’ which human societies require in order to maintain their salient moral characteristics (Hart 1961). The American legal theorist Lon Fuller took a more sociological tack in his account of the ‘morality of law.’ Echoing Robert Merton’s well-known essay on the norms of science, Fuller argued that law and science resemble each other because each institution possesses an internal morality resulting from its distinctive arrangements, practices, and fiduciary demands (Fuller 1964). Later legal scholarship compared the ‘cultures’ of law and science and likewise called attention to their normative and procedural particularities (Goldberg 1994, Schuck 1993), but these institutional characteristics were now seen as a source of conflict, or culture clash. As elite institutions, science and law historically have drawn upon each other’s practices to build their authority. Thus, early modern experimentalists in the natural sciences enlisted the support of witnesses, both real and ‘virtual’ (Shapin and Schaffer 1985), as if they were proving a case in a court of law. The Enlightenment of the eighteenth century and the rise of liberal democracies brought science, now prized for its practical utility (Price 1985), into a more openly instrumental partnership with the law. In the USA, Thomas Jefferson drafted the first Patent Act of the fledgling American republic in 1793, thereby implementing the constitutional grant of power to Congress ‘to promote the progress of science and useful arts, by securing for limited times to authors and inventors the exclusive right to their respective writings and discoveries.’ Where Jefferson saw the state as sponsoring science, some modern scholars have seen science’s open, self-regulating, nonhierarchical modes of governance as offering a model or prototype for democracy (Polanyi 1962). Others, however, regard the relationship of scientific and political authority as one of mutual dependency. Democratically constituted governments, they argue, need science and technology in order to answer constant public criticism and make positive demonstrations of their worth to citizens. States, therefore, have harnessed science and technology to instrumental projects in both war and peace. 13615

Science and Law In these legitimation exercises, the public attests to the state’s technical performance, much as scientists bore witness to each other’s observations in early modern experimental laboratories (Ezrahi 1990). The law’s procedural forms in this way have underwritten the credibility of both modern science and the state. The law’s own dependence on science has grown by distinctive pathways in the USA, as could be expected in a society where public decisions are exceptionally transparent and significant policy change commonly proceeds through litigation. By the beginning of the twentieth century, ideological and political shifts fostered the idea that social policies enacted by the state could and should be responsive to findings in the sciences. An icon of the Progressive era, US Supreme Court Justice Louis D. Brandeis, spurred this development through his historic ‘Brandeis brief’ in Muller
. Oregon (1908). Written to defend the state’s 10-hour working-day restriction on women’s employment, the 100-page brief is widely regarded as the first attempt to bring social science insights into the courts. Brandeis, then a public interest lawyer in Boston, argued successfully that women were sufficiently different from men to justify special legislative protection, thereby distinguishing the Oregon case from the Court’s earlier, infamous decision in Lochner
. New York (1905), which struck down a similar state law curtailing working hours for (male) bakers. Social science evidence received a further boost when, in overturning the ‘separate but equal’ doctrine that was the basis for racial segregation in public schools, the Supreme Court in Brown
. Board of Education (1954) relied on psychological studies of segregation’s ‘detrimental effect upon the colored children.’ In later years, students with disabilities would benefit from similar sorts of evidence in claiming rights to special education (Minow 1990). Employment discrimination, racial segregation, antitrust, capital punishment, and environmental liability were among the many litigated subjects that brought social science testimony into the US courts in the latter decades of the twentieth century. These cases kept alive the view that objective scientific information could be invoked in legal proceedings to combat various forms of oppression and social injustice. If science was allied with the search for justice in US courts, its role in policymaking was primarily as the voice of reason. Government’s increasing involvement in welfare policy in the New Deal, intensified by the rise of social regulation in the 1970s, created new demands for rational decisions concerning a host of costly and potentially explosive problems, such as race and the environment. As can be observed in the context of environmental regulation (Jasanoff 1990), federal agencies proved increasingly less able to take refuge in generalized claims of expertise. Much work went into separating science from politics and creating new institutions to deliver putatively independent advice to government, although episodes like the 1995 13616

dissolution of the Office of Technology Assessment, an advisory body to the US Congress, called attention to the fragility of such efforts. New types of scientific expertise also evolved to support governmental decisions with substantial distributive impacts, as discussed in the next section. The relationship between law and science in modern European states was in some ways more covert than in the USA, but nonetheless pervasive. The crises of industrialization in the nineteenth century and the ensuing rise of the welfare state ushered in a demand for credible public action that states could not satisfy without rapid increases in their capacity to order society through newly accredited social science disciplines (Wagner et al. 1991). In turn, the classifications offered by the human sciences in particular supplied the basis for new forms of self-understanding, normalization, and social control. Whether in medicine, psychology, criminology or studies of intelligence, science offered the means for dividing people into categories of normal and pathological, mainstream and deviant. The scientific study of human characteristics thus enabled members of society to see and discipline each other without the need for constant, formal regulatory oversight by the state (Foucault 1990). Science, on this account, not only provided supports for legal authority but actually replaced some of the ordering functions of positive law. European institutions at first resisted the pressures that fed attempts to separate science from politics in US legal contexts. Expert advisory bodies were routinely constituted to include political as well as technical expertise, although judgments about the need for lay or nonprofessional expertise varied from country to country. European courts, for their part, dealt with more focused and on the whole less politically salient disputes than in the USA, so that there were fewer reasons to contest expert judgments. By the 1990s, however, a number of developments tried public confidence in European governments’ uses of science, chief among them the growing political influence of the European Union’s technical bureaucracies and the fallout from the UK government’s botched response to the bovine spongiform encephalopathy (BSE) crisis, which cast doubt on the integrity and impartiality of experts. European lawmakers, regulators, and courts began reconsidering the adequacy of their institutional arrangements for sciencebased decision-making, as the issue of science and governance rose to new prominence on political agendas.

2. Disciplines, Professions, and the Law The interactivity of law and science has spurred new disciplinary formations and helped to change professional norms and practices, especially in the human sciences, which serve both as allies in regulation and

Science and Law law enforcement and as uneasy subjects of the law’s skeptical gaze. This dual relationship with the law has prompted novel lines of scientific research and theorizing, accompanied by periodic legal encroachment upon science’s professional autonomy. Developments in the fields of risk analysis and psychology clearly illustrate these patterns. The scientific study of risk is an outgrowth of state efforts to manage the hazards of industrial production and an extension of modern governments’ growing reliance on formal decision-making tools to rationalize difficult political decisions. Uncertainty about technology’s risks and benefits rose through the twentieth century along with the size and complexity of systems of production. From village-based economies, in which injured parties presumed they knew the agents as well as the causes of harms inflicted on them, the global economy pulled consumers into webs of relationships that diffused both the knowledge of risks and the responsibility for regulation and compensation. Epitomizing the plight of industrialization’s innocent victims, millions of asbestos workers in mines, shipyards, and other industries were unknowingly exposed to severe health hazards, and hundreds of thousands died of consequent illnesses. Resulting lawsuits financially crippled asbestos manufacturers without adequately recompensing injured workers. A 1984 accident at a US subsidiary’s chemical plant in Bhopal, India, again produced hundreds of thousands of victims, with massive scientific and legal uncertainties clouding the settlement of claims. As the pervasiveness of industrial hazards became apparent, legislatures sought to ensure that regulation would not wait for proof in the form of ‘body counts’: risk, not harm, became the basis for action under new laws safeguarding health, safety, and the environment, and state agencies struggled to develop credible processes for assessing and mitigating risks before anyone was injured. The sciences, for their part, responded with attempts to mobilize existing knowledge and methods to provide more useful tools for analyzing risks and crafting preventive strategies. From relatively modest beginnings, rooted largely in the engineering and physical sciences (as in assessing the risks of meltdown in nuclear power plants), risk assessment in support of regulatory standards grew into an important, and increasingly contested, branch of the social sciences. Risk studies acquired the indicia of professionalization, with dedicated journals, societies, curricula, and centers at major universities. One focus of research and development in this field, particularly in the USA, was the construction of reliable models for measuring risk, from the use of animal species as surrogates for humans to sophisticated methods of representing uncertainty in risk estates (National Research Council 1994). Risk assessment presented not only methodological difficulties for scientists and engineers, but also institutional challenges for governments needing to persuade industry

and the public that their decisions were scientifically sound and politically balanced (Jasanoff 1990). Lawsuits questioning the risk assessment practices of federal agencies were not uncommon and led to several significant judicial decisions, including Supreme Court rulings on the validity of the occupational standard for benzene in 1980 and the air quality standard for ozone and particulates in 2001. Other researchers meanwhile approached risk from the standpoint of social psychology, asking why lay observers frequently diverged from experts in their judgments concerning the relative significance of different types of risk. This question engendered a sizeable body of experimental and survey work on risk perception (Slovic 2000), as well as theoretical critiques of such work, showing problems in both the framing and characterization of lay attitudes (Irwin and Wynne 1994). While some social scientists occupied themselves with identifying and measuring ‘real’ risks, or perceptions of them, others treated risk itself as a new organizing principle in social life, noting that vulnerability to risk did not map neatly onto earlier divisions of society according to race, class or economic status (Beck 1992). By contrast, the US environmental justice movement generated data suggesting that social inequality still mattered in the distribution of industrial risks, which fell disproportionately on poor and minority populations (Bullard 1990). This strategic, though controversial, research led in 1994 to a presidential executive order demanding that US federal agencies should consider the equity implications of their actions; equity analysis emerged in this way as an offshoot of existing methodologies for assessing risk and offered formal justification for legal claims of environmental injustice. Unlike risk analysis, which is a product of twentiethcentury concerns, law and the mental health disciplines have existed in a relationship of close reciprocity at least since 1843, when the British House of Lords laid down the so-called M’Naghten rule for determining whether a criminal defendant is entitled to relief on grounds of insanity. The rule holds that a person may be released from criminal responsibility for actions taken while he or she was unable to distinguish between right and wrong as a result of mental disease or defect. More recently, the human sciences’ ability to sort people’s behavior and capacities into seemingly objective, ‘natural’ categories has served the needs of both democratic and totalitarian states in a growing variety of legal settings. The need to determine people’s mental states in civil as well as criminal proceedings was an important driver of the legal system’s enrolment of professionals from these fields. In US law, for example, psychiatric evidence was used to determine whether a criminal accused could stand trial, whether conditions for sentencing leniency or parole were met, and whether a convicted criminal posed a sufficient threat of long-term dangerousness to 13617

Science and Law deserve the death penalty. While these intersections provided new professional opportunities for psychiatry and psychology, spawning a thriving pedagogic specialty of law and mental health (Gutheil and Appelbaum 2000), entanglements with the law also disclosed frequent divisions among experts and undermined disciplinary authority in other ways. The most visible challenge to professional autonomy occurred in the 1974 US case of Tarasoff
. Regents of the Uni
ersity of California (redecided in 1976), in which the California Supreme Court ruled that psychiatrists were required to warn (later changed to a duty to protect) third parties threatened by their patients. Although the decision did not open the floodgates to liability as many therapists had feared, Tarasoff was widely seen as influencing therapeutic practice, often in counterproductive ways. In another notable decision affecting the mental health field, the US Supreme Court in Barefoot
. Estelle (1983) essentially ignored an amicus brief by the American Psychiatric Association stating that psychiatric predictions of dangerousness are wrong in as many as two out of three cases. The Court expressed confidence in juries’ capacity to evaluate expert evidence even if it is weak or deficient. By the end of the twentieth century, the alliance between law and the human sciences—joined, eventually, by the nascent science of genomics—helped to define a host of novel disorders and syndromes that were invoked to extenuate or penalize various types of conduct. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), for example, along with its specific manifestations such as rape trauma syndrome, entered the DSM-IV, the official diagnostic handbook for psychologists. So codified, PTSD became not only an identifiable and presumably treatable medical condition, but also a basis for asserting new legal claims (as in lawsuits for stress-related psychological injury in the workplace) or defending oneself against them (as in murder trials of sexually abused defendants). Possibly the most notorious example of synergy between law and psychology occurred in a rash of so-called recovered memory and child abuse cases, which became especially prevalent in the US in the 1980s (Hacking 1995). Initially gaining credibility from psychiatric experts, who testified to the reliability of recovered childhood memories, these cases caused scandal as witnesses recanted and it became apparent that some experts had more likely instilled than elicited the shocking ‘memories.’ The profession eventually organized to deny the scientific validity of the claims and repudiate the expertise of the claimants (Loftus and Ketcham 1994). Research on eyewitness identification, another branch of research dealing with memory and recall, also received its chief impetus from the legal process. Prompted by insupportably high error rates on the part of eyewitnesses, psychologists tested people’s ability to recognize persons they had encountered in 13618

stressful situations and discovered that many factors, such as race, inhibit accurate identification under these circumstances (Wells 1988). These findings began to have an impact on police procedure by the late 1990s as awareness dawned that relatively simple changes, such as sequential rather than simultaneous presentation of suspects in line-ups, could substantially improve the reliability of eyewitness testimony.

3. Scientific E
idence and Expert Witnesses Whereas civil law systems relegated the production of scientific and technical evidence largely to national forensics labs and court-appointed experts, common law proceedings traditionally left it to the parties themselves to produce evidentiary support for their claims. The adversary process, with its right of crossexamination, was assumed to be equal to the task of testing the evidence, no matter how arcane or technical, thereby permitting the fact-finder—the judge or jury—to ascertain the truth. Although commentators sometimes deplored the practice of treating experts as hired guns, the parties’ basic right to present their evidence was not in doubt, and courts rarely used their legally recognized power to appoint independent experts who might offer a more disinterested view (Jasanoff 1995). By the turn of the century, several factors combined to challenge this hands-off attitude. The sheer volume of cases demanding some degree of technical analysis was one contributing cause, especially in the US, where low entry barriers to litigation and the inadequacy of social safety nets routinely brought into the courts controversies that were resolved by other means in most common law jurisdictions. Highly publicized instances of expertise gone awry, as in the recovered memory cases, shook people’s confidence in the power of cross-examination to keep out charlatans presenting themselves as scientists. The economic consequences of successful products liability lawsuits strained the system from yet another direction, especially in a growing number of mass tort actions that threatened industries with bankruptcy. It was tempting to blame many of these developments on the perceived weaknesses of the adversary system: the passivity and low scientific acumen of judges, the technical illiteracy of juries, the gamesmanship of lawyers, the bias or incompetence of experts selected by parties. These deficits led to calls for reforming the process by which expert testimony was admitted into the courtroom. The initial round of critique marked a turn away from the liberal ideals of the 1970s and proved to be politically powerful, although it was neither methodologically rigorous nor of lasting scholarly value. An early broadside accused courts of deciding cases on the basis of ‘junk science,’ a rhetorically useful concept that took hold with opponents of the burgeoning tort

Science and Law system but proved difficult to characterize systematically (Huber 1991). The barely concealed program of this and related writings was to remove as much as possible of the testing of scientific evidence from the adversary system, particularly from the jury’s purview, and to decide these issues either in judicially managed pretrial proceedings or with the aid of scientists appointed by the courts. Undergirding this literature was an almost unshakable faith in science’s selfcorrective ability and a technocratic conviction that truth would eventually win out if only the legal system left scientific fact-finding to scientists (Foster and Huber 1997). These attacks also tacitly presumed that mainstream expert opinion could be identified on any issue relevant to the resolution of legal disputes. These positions would later be thrown into doubt, but not until the spate of polemical work had left its mark on American scientific and social thought. Studies by practicing scientists, physicians and some legal academics reiterated and amplified the theme of the law’s misuse of science. Critics cited as evidence a number of tort cases in which multimillion dollar jury verdicts favorable to plaintiffs conflicted with the opinions of respected scientists who denied any causal connection between the alleged harmful agent, such as a drug or workplace toxin, and the harm suffered. Particularly noteworthy was the litigation involving Bendectin, a medication prescribed to pregnant women for morning sickness and later suspected of causing birth defects in their children. Juries frequently awarded damages despite assertions by epidemiologists that there was no statistically significant evidence linking Bendectin to the claimed injuries. Research on the role of experts in these cases showed suggestive differences in behavior (such as higher rates of repeat witnessing) between plaintiffs’ and defendants’ experts (Sanders 1998), leading some to question whether judges were adequately screening offers of scientific testimony. Another episode that drew considerable critical commentary was litigation involving silicone gel breast implants. Close to a half-million women surgically implanted with these devices sued the manufacturer, Dow Corning, claiming injuries that ranged from minor discomfort to permanent immune system damage. The company’s initial settlement offer broke down under the onslaught of lawsuits, but epidemiological studies, undertaken only after the commencement of legal action, indicated no causal connection between the implants and immune system disorders. Publication of these results in the prominent New England Journal of Medicine led its executive editor to join the chorus of accusation against the legal system’s apparent misuse of science (Angell 1996). Rising discontent about the quality of scientific evidence led the US Supreme Court to address the issue for the first time in 1993. In Daubert
. Merrell Dow Pharmaceuticals, the Court set aside the so-called Frye rule that had governed the admissibility of expert testimony for the preceding 70 years. Instead of simply

demanding that scientific evidence should be ‘generally accepted’ within the relevant peer community, the Court urged judges to screen science in pretrial proceedings, in accordance with standards that scientists themselves would use. The Court offered four sample criteria: (a) was the evidence based on a testable theory or technique, and had it been tested; (b) had it been peer reviewed; (c) did it have a known error rate; and (d) was the underlying science generally accepted? Two more major evidence decisions of the 1990s cemented the high court’s message that trial judges should play a vastly more proactive gate-keeping role when confronted by scientific and technical evidence. As judicial involvement on this front increased, new complaints appeared on the horizon: that judges were using the Daubert criteria as an inappropriately inflexible checklist rather than as the guidelines they were meant to be; that mechanical application of Daubert and its progeny was trumping deserving claims; that judges were usurping the jury’s constitutional role; and that misinterpretation of Daubert was introducing unscientific biases and impermissibly raising the burden of proof in civil cases. In most civil law jurisdictions, by contrast, the inquisitorial approach to testing evidence, coupled with the state’s near monopoly in generating forensic science, precluded much controversy about the legitimacy of experts or the quality of their testimony. Tremors could be detected, however, arising from such episodes as the discovery of substandard or fabricated evidence in British trials of Irish terrorists and child abuse suspects and the French government’s cover-up of the contamination of the blood supply with the HIV-AIDS virus. Ironically, as US courts moved to consolidate their gate-keeping function in the 1990s, constricting the entry routes for experts, a countermove could be discerned in some European legal systems to open the courts, and policy processes more broadly, to a wider diversity of expert opinion (Van Kampen 1998).

4. Sites of Knowledge-making Investigation of the law-science relationship took a considerably more sophisticated turn in the 1990s as it attracted the attention of a new generation of researchers in science and technology studies. From this disciplinary vantage point, the use–misuse framing that dominated popular writing appeared superficial in the extreme when set against the observed richness of interactions between the two institutions. Rather, as this body of work began to document, it was the hybridization of law and science that held greatest interest and significance for science and society. At this active frontier of social problem solving, one could observe in fine-grained detail how important normative and epistemological commitments either reinforced or contradicted each other in contemporary 13619

Science and Law societies. For example, even within the common law’s adversarial environment, the ritualistic character of legal proceedings successfully held the line against certain forms of radical skepticism, leaving untouched traditional hierarchies of expert authority (Wynne 1982), a belief in the ultimate accessibility of the truth (Smith and Wynne 1989), and an abiding faith in technological progress (Jasanoff 1995). At the same time, the legal process increasingly came to be recognized as a distinctive site for the production of otherwise unavailable knowledge and expertise. Even in cases where litigation arguably produced anomalous results—such as Bendectin and breast implants—resort to the courts demonstrably added to society’s aggregate store of information. Other cases were unambiguously progressive. A particularly striking example was the importation of molecular biological techniques into the arenas of criminal identification and paternity testing in the form of ‘DNA typing.’ Not only did the legal system’s needs provide the initial context for the technique’s development, but subsequent contestation over the reliability of DNA-based identification had impacts on the field of population genetics and spurred the formation of new testing methods and agencies, as well as the standardization of commonly used tests (Lynch and Jasanoff 1998). As the technique became black-boxed, new market niches for it emerged within the legal process, most spectacularly as a means of exonerating mistakenly convicted persons. The success of DNA as a forensic tool thus helped to destabilize the legal system’s longstanding commitment to eyewitness evidence, and even its reliance on the seemingly unassailable authority of fingerprints (Cole 2001), thereby facilitating critiques of a possibly antiquated privileging of visual memory (Wells 1988). But the massive uptake of forensic DNA analysis by the criminal justice system also opened up new areas of social concern, such as privacy and database protection, which called for continued vigilance and ingenuity on the part of the legal system. The rise of DNA typing, like that of risk analysis and post-traumatic stress disorder, captured the dynamics of an epoch in which the establishment of any form of social order became virtually unthinkable without the mutual engagement of law and science. In such a time, commentary deploring the law’s alleged misuse of science appeared increasingly reductionist and out of touch with everyday reality. The emergence of science and law as a special topic within science and technology studies responded to the inadequacies of earlier analyses and showed greater intellectual promise. A major contribution of this work was to abandon once for all the pared down ‘clashing cultures’ model of the law–science relationship and to put in its place a more nuanced picture of the positive interplay between normative and cognitive authority. By exploring in detail how the law not only ‘uses’ science, but also questions it and often compensates for its deficien13620

cies, the new scholarship on science and law invited reflection on the intricate balancing of truth and justice in technologically advanced societies. See also: Biotechnology; Disciplines, History of, in the Social Sciences; Expert Testimony; Expert Witness and the Legal System: Psychological Aspects; Intellectual Property, Concepts of; Intellectual Property: Legal Aspects; Law: History of its Relation to the Social Sciences; Legal Process and Social Science: United States; Norms in Science; Power in Society; Professions, Sociology of; Science and Technology Studies: Experts and Expertise; Science and the State; Science, Economics of; Truth and Credibility: Science and the Social Study of Science

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S. Jasanoff

Science and Religion Understanding the present relationship between science and religion requires a recognition of broad historical trends. The subject has been most commonly treated in depth by historians of science, though scholars in both pure science and theology have also been active. Several posts in the UK, including a professorship at Oxford, and at least three major journals are devoted to the subject of science and religion (Zygon, Perspecti
es on Science and Christian Faith, and Science and Christian Belief ), and numerous organizations have been formed to promote its study both in the US and UK. Scholarship has become increasingly sophisticated, and frequent attacks on earlier ‘simplistic’ views have had the effect of excluding from the debate a great many ordinary people. This is quite unnecessary, though it is true that both ‘science’ and ‘religion’ are not eternally unchanging entities and do vary over time and space. In what follows, science is simply the study and systematic observation of the natural world, while religion may be seen generally as humanity’s quest after God, a quest taking a variety of different

forms. The subject is, of course, an emotive issue for some, from vociferous antagonists of religion (like the geneticist Richard Dawkins) to equally uncompromising supporters (such as the American ‘creationists’). In the following account the main emphasis will be on Christianity, not for partisan reasons but because, historically, that religion more than any other has related closely to the emerging sciences.

1. The Social Relations of Science and Christianity This topic has become the subject of a number of wellknown statements or theses, five of which will now be considered. Some are about specific periods in history (as the seventeenth century) while others relate to allegedly more timeless issues. Some bear well-known names of their chief proponents.

1.1 The Merton Thesis In 1938, the American sociologist Robert Merton argued that the emergence of science in the seventeenth century was promoted by the ascendancy of Protestant religion. Since then this contentious position has been revisited again and again, and it is hard to resist the conclusion that, in modified form, the thesis has more than an element of truth. Certainly, there is a correlation between visibility in science and religious allegiance. In the French AcadeT mie des Sciences from 1666 to 1885, the ratio of Protestants to Catholics was 80: 18, despite the preponderance of Catholics in the country. Others have shown a similarly high proportion of Puritans (not merely Protestants) in the membership of the early Royal Society in England, and Merton argued that Puritan attitudes did much to encourage its growth. There have been objections to such ‘counting of heads,’ not least because of the difficulty of defining a Puritan. If such a person is considered theologically rather than politically some of the difficulties disappear. On this basis a Puritan is one who holds strongly to the teaching of the Bible as opposed to the church or tradition, not necessarily a supporter of the Parliamentary cause in revolutionary England. Yet it may still be argued that such correlations do not prove that Puritan theology encouraged science, for may not both have emerged from a common cause? Could not both have been an expression of new movements of social and economic change and of a libertarian philosophy? This may well be true, but a general correlation in the 1600s between promotion of science and a generally Protestant loyalty to the Bible seems inescapable. 13621

Science and Religion 1.2 The Hooykaas Thesis This goes further than the Merton thesis might suggest, and argues that the origins of modern science do not merely correlate neatly with Protestant beliefs but are directly derived from them. It has been implied by many authors since the 1970s but is particularly associated with the Dutch historian of science Reijer Hooykaas (1906–94) in his epochal Religion and the Rise of Modern Science. To make such an assertion is to stand traditional views on their head. It was once customary to see science as a truly Greek inheritance, at last freed from religious shackles at the Renaissance. Hooykaas invites us to view it rather as a product of Biblical theology, freshly released at the Reformation, and subverting much of Greek philosophy which had for 1500 years inhibited any real rise of experimental science. Serious evidence exists in support of this thesis. There are explicit declarations by many well-known scientific figures from Francis Bacon to Isaac Newton and beyond that their science was inspired theologically. Then there is a remarkable congruity between Biblical and scientific credos. At least five points of intersection can be identified. (a) Most profound of all, perhaps, was what Hooykaas called the ‘demythologization of nature,’ so that nature was no longer to be seen as divine or even animate, but more like a machine than anything else. It is not God but a creation by him, and therefore a proper object of study and experiment. Such was the theology of the Old and New Testaments, and it was eloquently proclaimed by statements from ‘the father of chemistry’ Robert Boyle and many others. (b) Moreover, the idea that nature worked by laws is at the very foundation of science, and is also Biblical. Amongst those who wrote of laws impressed by God on nature were Descartes, Boyle, and Newton. Men looked for laws when they recognized the law-giver. (c) But science can only discover these laws by experimentation. Manipulation of nature had been regarded by many Greeks as socially unacceptable (except for slaves) or even impious. Among the most urgent advocates of an experimental method, based on widespread Biblical approval of manual techniques for testing, was Francis Bacon who urged ‘men to sell their books, and to build furnaces.’ (d) Then again a further religious impetus to science came from the Biblical exhortations to see the heavens and earth as manifesting the glory of their Creator. The astronomer Kepler, it is said, asserted that in his researches he ‘was thinking God’s thoughts after him.’ This religious motivation became a strong emphasis in Calvinistic theology. (e) Finally, the Biblical mandate for humanity to exert ‘dominion’ over nature opened up possibilities of scientific work ‘for the glory of God and the relief of man’s estate’ (Bacon). As Hooykaas wrote: The Biblical conception of nature liberated man from the naturalistic bonds of Greek religiosity and philosophy and

13622

gave a religious sanction to the development of technology [Hooykaas, Religion and the Rise of Modern Science, 1973, p. 67].

One cannot dismiss the burgeoning literature linking science to Protestantism in the seventeenth century as mere rhetoric. But it can be argued that Hooykaas underestimates the numbers of Roman Catholics who were eminent in science, though even here caution is needed. The oft-quoted counter example of the Catholic Copernicus must not obscure the astronomer’s indebtedness to both his Lutheran assistant Rheticus, and the liberal legacies of Erasmus within his own church. Attitudes towards nature varied widely within Catholicism, and there is always the danger of generalising too widely. But in its essence the Hooykaas thesis appears to be substantially correct.

1.3 The Lynn White Thesis If Christian theology has been one of the formative influences on modern science it does not follow that this has always been in the best interests of the world and its inhabitants. That opinion has been forcibly expressed in a further thesis, first proposed by the American historian Lynn White in 1966\7. He argued that much of the damage to our environment springs from a misuse of science and technology for which ‘Christianity bears a huge burden of guilt.’ More specifically he locates the problem in the ‘realisation of the Christian dogma of man’s transcendence of, and rightful mastery over, nature’ (White 1967). He urges a return not to the primitive Christianity of the New Testament but to the animistic world of St Francis of Assisi which saw the earth and its inhabitants as brothers rather than instruments. In White’s view the Biblical call to ‘dominion’ must have been understood in terms of exploitation. However, careful historical examination of the evidence suggests that few, if any, pioneers in science or theology held this particular view. John Calvin explicitly repudiated it, as did the noted eighteenth century writer William Derham. They, and many others, urged an interpretation of dominion as ‘responsible stewardship.’ In more recent times ideologically driven human conquest of nature has been on the Marxist rather than the Christian agendas. It is now widely acknowledged that, as a historical generalization, the Lynn White thesis stands largely discredited.

1.4 The Conflict Thesis This thesis is much older than the others we have examined, and much better known. The thesis states that science and religion have been in perpetual conflict and that, eventually, science will vanquish

Science and Religion religion. It was most notoriously promulgated by the Victorian naturalist T. H. Huxley, but has been advocated by many others in the late nineteenth century and is probably best not attributed to any one individual. Two books arguing the point are History of the Conflict between Religion and Science by J. W. Draper (first published in 1875), and A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom by A. D. White (1895). They achieved enormous circulation and are still in print. The essence of the argument is that where scientific conclusions have been challenged by the church there has usually been an eventual retreat by the ecclesiastical authorities. Two classic cases were those of Galileo in the seventeenth century and of Darwin nearly 250 years later. It was in the aftermath of the latter imbroglio that the conflict thesis was formulated. Many more examples were unearthed by Draper and White and an impressive case assembled (especially by the latter). Manifestly, it is hard to reconcile this thesis with the three previously considered. If science owed so much to religion how could they possibly be in conflict? The thesis flies in the face of massive evidence that points to a powerful alliance between science and Christianity since at least the seventeenth century. A noteworthy feature of the conflict thesis is that it was first proposed at a time when history of science hardly existed and historical scholarship had certainly not explored the nuances perceived by Merton, Hooykaas, and their colleagues. Detailed examination of the relatively minor cases urged by Draper and White reveals that many were badly documented, some plainly apocryphal and others greatly exaggerated. It seems that the authors sometimes saw what they were looking for and built their generalizations on a slender foundation. To be sure, Galileo and Darwin were assailed by organized religion but they seem to have been relatively isolated exceptions to the general rule that Christianity and science coexisted in harmony. Partial explanations for the persecution of Galileo lay in power struggles within the church, while Darwin’s problems arose in part from a deeply divided society in industrial Britain. Today the books of Draper and White are rated not as serious works of historical scholarship but as highly polemical tracts reflecting the tensions existing in the social and cultural environment in which the authors lived. Draper wrote as a man deeply disenchanted with the Roman Catholic church, not least for its recent declaration of papal infallibility. White, on the other hand, was President of one of the first explicitly nonsectarian colleges in the US (Cornell) and had suffered badly at the hands of the religious establishment. Each had his own axe to grind in taunting the organized church. The result was not history but myth. Yet a conflict thesis is commonly held in the world today, so one needs to asks how such a tendentious

myth could have become so entrenched in Western culture. To understand the reason it is necessary to recall the plight of English science in the last 40 years of Victoria’s reign. Underfunded by government, inadequately supported by secondary education, unpopular with the general public for a variety of reasons and a poor relation in those citadels of the establishment, the universities of Oxford and Cambridge, English science was crying out for recognition and support. It was falling seriously behind in the race with Continental science (especially German) and had no chance of occupying a leading place in English culture. In search of a weapon with which to acquire some kind of hegemony Thomas Henry Huxley and some close allies determined on a course of action. They would seek by all means within their power to undermine the privileged position of the Anglican church and put science in its place. A detailed strategy was worked out, an important element being the propagation of a conflict thesis in which the church was always portrayed as the vanquished party in its perennial fights with science. The books of Draper and White were at their service, and so was evolution which, as Huxley said, was a good stick with which to beat the church. With all the discipline of a military campaign the attack was launched and the conflict thesis enshrined as a self-evident truth in English culture. It was a demonstrably wrong but it carried the day, at least with the general public (see Russell 1989).

1.5 The Complementarity Thesis In the 1960s and 1970s the scientist\philosopher Donald MacKay made much of the paradigm of complementarity. Derived from modern physics, where, for instance, wave and particle descriptions of light are complementary, the notion was applied to explanations from science and theology. It was the antithesis of a reductionist view where objects or events were nothing but phenomena of one kind (usually materialist). This view did not preclude traffic from one area to another, and did not deny their mutual influence. Indeed MacKay was committed strongly to the Hooykaas thesis. But it did mean that science and theology could co-exist as complementary enterprises. We may call this the complementarity thesis. Its merits include the ability to account for several phenomena of modern and recent science. One of these is the large number of scientists who hold to Christian beliefs. In Huxley’s day they included many of the most eminent physical scientists as Faraday, Joule, Stokes, and Lord Kelvin. Statistical surveys undertaken since that day have confirmed the same general trend, which is quite the opposite of common expectation. In the early years of the twenty-first century the numbers appear to be increasing. The only reasonable explanation is that such people regard their 13623

Science and Religion scientific and religious activities as complementary and nonthreatening. Membership data and corporate activities of organisations like the American Scientific Affiliation and Christians in Science appear to bear this out. In modern times an interesting tendency strengthens still further the case for a complementary approach. That is the rebirth of natural theology, in which the natural universe is seen to testify to the power and goodness of God. Such arguments go back to Biblical times, but were advocated with fresh vigour in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, reaching their peak with Natural Theology by William Paley, first appearing in 1802. The argument for a Designer from the apparent design of the natural world received hard blows from the philosophical critique of Hume and the evolutionary theories of Darwin. The proponents of the conflict thesis added their opposition. Yet over 100 years later the disclosures of modern science have caused some cynics to have second thoughts, and have encouraged scientist\theologians like John Polkinghorne to revive a form of natural theology that does justice to a natural world infinitely more complex than that perceived by Paley or even Darwin.

universe as an alternative to the view of it as a machine which can be used or abused at whim. They have been encouraged by the Gaia hypothesis of James Lovelock which emphasizes the complexity of earth and its biosphere and its capacity for self-regulation. This had led several (including Lovelock) to posit the earth as in some sense ‘alive.’ From this it has been but a step to invoke the earth (Gaia) as a mother and even a goddess. If taken to extremes this view may lead to a greater sensitivity to the needs for sustainable development and other desirable attitudes to the earth. But it may also lead to a reversion to a prescientific animistic or even divine universe in which the benefits of a thriving science are rejected as minimal. If, however, the values of Christian monotheism are integrated with these views it may be possible for science to prosper, but always in a spirit of responsible stewardship. At present, we seem a long way from either of these positions.

2. Beyond Traditional Christianity

Bibliography

It remains to note that orthodox Christianity has no monopoly in engagement with science, though historically it happens to have been the most prominent faith to do so. Much literature on science and religion has focused, therefore, on the Christian faith. A modern variant of Christianity is sufficiently different to justify the term heterodox; that is the so-called process theology that denies omniscience to God and regards natural processes as contributing to his selffulfillment. It has been extensively used in discussions about indeterminacy in nature, about human free will and about the phenomenon of evil. Though favoured by some philosophers and theologians it cuts little ice with the majority of scientists. The other great monotheistic religions of Judaism and, to a smaller extent, Islam have encouraged their followers in the study of nature though, operating in very different cultures and with different presuppositions, their effects have been rather unlike those of Christianity. The eastern mystical religions have arguably been less important for the growth of science, though some parallels between atomic physics and Buddhism have been emphasized by Franz Capra. The early promise of Chinese science was not fulfilled because the concept of scientific law was hardly present, reflecting, according to the historian Joseph Needham, the absence of any monotheistic law-giver in ancient Chinese culture. Finally, the growth of environmental awareness has led some to espouse an almost pantheistic view of the

Barbour I 1990 Religion in an Age of Science. Harper, San Francisco Brooke J H 1991 Science and Religion: Some Historical Perspecti
es. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Finocchiaro M A 1989 The Galileo Affair: A Documentary History. University of California Press, Berkeley, CA Harrison P 1998 The Bible, Protestantism and the Rise of Natural Science. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Hooykaas R 1972 Religion and the Rise of Modern Science. Scottish Academic Press, Edinburgh, UK Jeeves M A, Berry R J 1998 Science, Life and Christian Belief. Apollos, Leicester, UK Kaiser C 1991 Creation and the History of Science. Marshall Pickering, London Lindberg D C, Numbers R (eds.) 1998 God and Nature: Historical Essays on the Encounter Between Christianity and Science. University of California Press, Berkeley, CA Livingstone D N, Hart D G, Noll M A (eds.) E
angelicals and Science in Historical Perspecti
e. Oxford University Press, New York Moore J M 1979 The Post-Darwinian Contro
ersies: A Study of the Protestant Struggle to Come to Terms with Darwin in Great Britain and America 1870–1900. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Nebelsick H P 1992 The Renaissance, the Reformation and the Rise of Science. T. & T. Clark, Edinburgh, UK Polkinghorne J 1990 One World: The Interaction of Science and Theology. SPCK, London Polkinghorne J 1991 Reason and Reality: The Relationship Between Science and Theology. SPCK, London Russell C A 1985 Cross-currents: Interactions Between Science and Faith. Inter-Varsity Press, Leicester, UK (corrected and reprinted, Christian Impact, London, 1996)

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See also: Creationism, Evolutionism, and Antievolutionism; Religion and Politics: United States; Religion and Science; Religion: Evolution and Development; Religion, History of; Religion, Psychology of; Religion, Sociology of

Science and Social Mo
ements Russell C A 1989 The conflict metaphor and its social origins. Science and Christian Belief 1: 3–26 Russell C A 1994 The Earth, Humanity and God. University College Press, London White L 1967 Science 155: 1203

C. A. Russell

spokespersons have offered critical perspectives on both the form and content of science, as well as on the uses to which science has been put. In recent decades, a range of so-called new social movements have criticized the dominant biases and perspectives of many scientific and technological fields. This article first presents these different forms of interaction between science and social movements in general, historical terms. It then discusses contemporary relations between science and social movements, and, in particular, the environmental movement.

Science and Social Movements The social movements that are discussed in this article refer to major political processes of popular mobilization that have significant societal significance, and include organized forms of protest as well as broader and more diffuse manifestations of public opinion and debate. In relation to science, social movements conceived in this way can be seen to have served as seedbeds for new modes of practicing science and organizing knowledge more generally, and also as sites for critically challenging and reconstituting the established forms of scientific activity.

1.

Introduction

Since they fall between different academic specializations and disciplinary concerns, the relations between science and social movements have tended to be a neglected subject in the social sciences. For students of social movements in sociology and political science, the relations to science have been generally of marginal interest and received little systematic attention (Dellaporta and Diani 1999), while in science and technology studies, social movements usually have been regarded more as contextual background than as topics of investigation in their own right. Considering their potential significance as ‘missing links,’ both in the social production of knowledge and in broader processes of political and social change, however, the relations between science and social movements deserve closer scrutiny. For one thing, new ideas about nature and society have often first emerged outside the world of formal scientific activity, within broader social and political movements. Social movements have also often provided audiences, or new publics, for the spreading and popularization of scientific findings and results. Movements of religious dissent were among the most significant disseminators of the new experimental philosophy in the mid-seventeenth century, for example, while, in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, new approaches to medicine, social relations, gender roles, and the environment found receptive audiences within social and political movements. Most visibly, social movements and their

2. Historical Perspecti
es A fundamental insight of the sociology of knowledge, as it developed in the 1920s and 1930s, was to suggest that modern science emerged in the seventeenth century out of a more all-encompassing struggle for political freedom and religious reform (Scheler 1980\1924; Merton 1970\1938). What eventually came to be characterized as modern science represented an institutionalized form of knowledge production that, at the outset, had been inspired by more sweeping social and political transformations. The historical project of modernity did not begin as a new scientific method, or a new mechanical worldview, or, for that matter, as a new kind of state support for experimental philosophy in the form of scientific academies. As for the Reformation, it arose as a more deep-seated challenge to traditional ways of thought in social and religious life. It was a protest against the Church (which is why the members of the movement were called protestants), and it was an encompassing social and cultural movement that articulated and practiced alternative, or oppositional forms of religion, politics, and learning as part of its political Table 1 A schematic representation of the scientific revolution from movement to institution From mo
ement …

To institution

Social reform Millenarian vision Connection to radical politics Decentralized structure Democratic\open to all Spiritual (absolute) knowledge

Reform of philosophy Experimental program Rejection of politics

Technical-economic improvement Informal communication pamphlets, correspondence

Scientific development

Central academy Elitist\professional Instrumental (probabalistic) knowledge

Formal communication journals, papers

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Science and Social Mo
ements struggle (Mandrou 1978). The teachings of Paracelsus, Giordano Bruno, and Tomaso Campanella, to name some of the better known examples, combined a questioning of established religious and political authority with an interest in scientific observation, mathematics, mechanics, and technical improvements (Merchant 1980). But as the broader movements were replaced by more formalized institutions in the course of the seventeenth century, the political and social experiments came to be transformed into scientific experiments; the political and religious reformation, tinged with mysticism and filled with mistrust of authority, was redefined and reconstituted, at least in part, as a scientific revolution (see Table 1). In the later seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, the scientific ‘aristocracy’ that had emerged in London and Paris at the Royal Society and the Academie des Sciences was challenged by dissenting groups and representatives of the emerging middle classes, some of whom fled from Europe to the colonies in North America, and some of whom established scientific societies, often in provincial areas in opposition to the established science of the capital cities. Many of them shared with the academicians and their royal patrons a belief in what Max Weber termed the protestant ethic, that is, an interest in the value of hard work and the virtue of making money, and most had an interest in what Francis Bacon had termed ‘useful knowledge.’ The social movements of the enlightenment objected, however, to the limited ways in which the Royal Society and the Parisian Academy had organized the scientific spirit and institutionalized the new methods and theories of the experimental philosophy. The various attempts to democratize scientific education in the wake of the French Revolution and to apply the mechanical philosophy to social processes—that is, to view society itself as a topic for scientific research and analysis—indicate how critique and opposition helped bring about new forms of scientific practice. Adam Smith’s new science of political economy developed in the Scottish hinterland, and many of the first industrial applications of experimentation and mechanical philosophy took place in the provinces, rather than in the capital cities, where the scientific academies were located (Russell 1983). Many of the political and cultural trends of the nineteenth century—from romanticism and utopianism to socialism and populism—also began as critical movements that at a later stage, and in different empirical manifestations, came to participate in reconstituting the scientific enterprise. Romanticism, for example, first emerged as a challenge to the promethean ambitions of science, in the guise, for example, of Mary Shelley’s mad Doctor Frankenstein, while socialism, in the utopian form promulgated by Robert Owen, was a reaction, among other things, to the problematic ways in which the technological applications of scientific activity were being spread into 13626

modern societies. Romantic writers and artists, like William Blake, Johann Goethe, and later Henry David Thoreau, were critical of the reductionism and cultural blindness of science and of the ‘dark satanic mills’ in which the mechanical worldview was being applied. They sought to mobilize the senses and the resources of myth and history in order to envision and create other ways of knowing (Roszak 1973). Some of their protest was transformed into constructive artistic creation, and later in the century, the romantic revolt of the senses inspired both the first waves of environmentalism in the form of conservation societies and the emergence of a new kind of holistic scientific discipline, to which was given the name ecology: household knowledge. In the late nineteenth century, the labor movement also sought a deep-going, fundamental political, and cultural transformation of society, but it would see its critical message translated, in the twentieth century, into packages of reforms and a more welfare-oriented capitalism, on the one hand, and into the ‘scientific socialism’ of Leninand Stalin on the other (Gouldner 1980). Once again, however, science benefited from this institutionalization of the challenge of social movements; the knowledge interests of the labor movement, for example, entered into the new social science disciplines of economics and sociology. A political challenge was once again transformed into programs of scientific research and state policy; but while new forms of scientific expertise were developed, little remained of the broader democratization of knowledge production that the labor movement, in its more radical days, had articulated. In the early twentieth century, the challenge to established science was mobilized most actively in the colonies of European imperialism, as well as in the defeated imperialist powers of Germany and Italy; the critique was primarily of scientific civilization writ large, and of what Mahatma Gandhi in India called its ‘propagation of immorality.’ In the name of modernism, science stood for the future and legitimated, in the colonies as well as in Europe, a wholesale destruction of the past and of the ‘traditional’ knowledges—the other ways of knowing—that had been developed in other civilizations (Tambiah 1990). These social movements had an impact on the development of political ideology on both the right and left, but also inspired new sciences of ethnography and anthropology, as well as the sociology of knowledge. Even more important perhaps were the various attempts to combine the artisanal knowledges of the past and of other peoples with the modern science and technology of the present in new forms of architecture, design, and industrial production. Many of the regional development programs of the 1930s and 1940s, in Europe and North America, can trace their roots back to the cultural critique of modernism that was inspired by the Indian independence movement and by such ‘movement intellectuals’ as William Morris and

Science and Social Mo
ements Patrick Geddes in Britain. Both Roosevelt’s New Deal and the Swedish model welfare state can be said to have mobilized civilizationally critical perspectives in their projects of social reconstruction.

3. Science and Contemporary Social Mo
ements In recent decades, social movements have also served to challenge and reorient the scientific enterprise. Out of the anti-imperialist and student movements of the 1960s and the environmentalist, feminist, and identity movements of the 1970s and 1980s have emerged a range of alternative ideas about science, in form, content, and meaning, that have given rise to new scientific theories, academic fields, and technological programs (Schiebinger 1993, Harding 1998). Out of critique have grown the seeds of new, and often more participatory, ways of sciencing—from technology and environmental impact assessment to women’s studies, queer theory, and postcolonial discourses. What were in the 1960s and 1970s protest movements of radical opposition largely have been emptied of their political content, but they have given rise to new branches of, and approaches to, science and technology. While the more radical, or oppositional, voices have lost much of their influence, the more pragmatic and scientific voices have been given a range of new opportunities. This is not to say that there is no longer a radical environmental opposition or a radical women’s liberation movement, but radicals and reformists increasingly have drifted apart from one another, and in most countries now work in different organizations, with little sense of a common oppositional movement identity. There has been a fragmentation of what was a coherent movement into a number of disparate bits and pieces (Melucci 1996). The new social movements rose to prominence in the downturn of a period of institutional expansion and economic growth. They emerged in opposition to the dominant social order and to its hegemonic scientific technological regime, which had been largely established during and immediately after World War II (Touraine 1988). The war led to a fundamental transformation in the world of science and technology, and to the emergence of a new relation, or contract, between science and politics. Unlike previous phases of industrialization, in which science and engineering had lived parallel but separate identities, World War II ushered in the era of technoscience. The war effort had been based on an unprecedented mobilization of scientists to create new weapons, from radar to the atomic bomb, and to gather and conduct intelligence operations. In the process, ‘little’ science was transformed into big science, or industrialized science. Especially important for the social movements that were to develop in the 1960s and beyond was the fact that scientific research was placed at the center of postwar economic development. Many of the econ-

omically significant new products—nylon and other synthetic textiles, plastics, home chemicals and appliances, television—were based directly on scientific research, and the new techniques of production were also of a different type: it was the era of chemical fertilizers and insecticides, of artificial petrochemicalbased process industries, and food additives. The forms of big science also differed from the ways in which science had been organized in the past. The big science laboratories—both in the public and private sectors—were like industrial factories, and scientifictechnical innovation came to be seen as an important concern for business managers and industrial organizers. The use of science in society had become systematized, and, as the consequences of the new order became more visible, new forms of mistrust and criticism developed (Jamison and Eyerman 1994). One wing of the public reacted to the destruction of the natural environment, what an early postwar writer, Fairfield Osborn, termed ‘man’s war with nature.’ The exploitation of natural resources was increasing and, in the 1940s and 1950s, it began to be recognized that the new science-based products were more dangerous for the natural environment than those that had come before. But it would only be with Rachel Carson, and her book Silent Spring in 1962, that an environmental movement began to find its voice and its characteristic style of expression. It was by critically evaluating specific instances of scientific technology, particular cases of what Osborn had called the ‘flattery of science’ that the environmentalist critique would reach a broader public. Carson singled out the chemical insecticides for detailed scrutiny and assessment, but her point was more general. Carson’s achievement was to direct the methods of science against science itself, but also to point to another way of doing things, the biological or ecological way—what she called in her book the road not taken. Another source of inspiration for the new social movements came from philosophers and social historians who questioned the more general impact of technoscience on the human spirit. It was onedimensional thinking which critical theorists like Herbert Marcuse reacted against, the dominance of an instrumental rationality over all other forms of knowing. For Lewis Mumford, another major source of inspiration, it was the homogenization of the landscape that was most serious, the destruction of the organic rhythms and flows of life that had followed in the wake of postwar economic growth, as well as the dominance of what he termed the ‘megamachine,’ the use of technology for authoritarian purposes. In the 1970s, a range of new social movements, building on these and other sources of inspiration, came to articulate an oppositional, or alternative approach to science and technology (Dickson 1974). The so-called new social movements represented an integrated set of knowledge interests, which combined the critique of Rachel Carson with the liberation 13627

Science and Social Mo
ements dialectics of Marcuse and the direct democracy of the student movement. The new movements involved a fundamental critique of modern science’s exploitative attitude to nature, as well as an alternative organizational ideal—a democratic, or participatory ideal—for the development of knowledge. There were also distinct forms of collective learning in the new social movements of environmentalism and feminism, as well as grass-roots engineering activities that went under the name of appropriate or alternative technology.

4.

Social Mo
ements as Cogniti
e Praxis

On the basis of these historical and contemporary relations between science and social movements, many social movements can be characterized as producers of science (Eyerman and Jamison 1991). The critical ideas and new public arenas that are mobilized by social movements often provide the setting for innovative forms of cognitive praxis,combining alternative worldviews, or cosmological assumptions with alternative organizational and practical–technical criteria. In the case of environmentalism, the cosmology was, to a large extent, the translation of a scientific paradigm into a socioeconomic paradigm; in the 1970s, the holistic concepts of systems ecology were transformed into political programs of social ecology, and an ecological worldview was to govern social and political interactions. Technology was to be developed under the general perspective that ‘small is beautiful’ (in the influential phrase of E. F. Schumacher), and according to the assumption that large-scale, environmentally destructive projects should be opposed and stopped. At the same time, new contexts for education and experimentation and the diffusion of research were created in the form of movement workshops and, in the Netherlands, for example, in the form of science shops, which allowed activist groups to gain access to the scientific expertise at the universities (Irwin 1995). In the 1980s, this cognitive praxis was decomposed largely into a disparate cluster of organizations and individuals, through processes of professionalization and fragmentation. The knowledge interests of the environmental movement were transformed into various kinds of professional expertise, which made it possible to incorporate parts of the movement into the established political culture, and to shift at least some of the members of the movement from outsider to insider status. Some of the alternative technical projects proved commercially viable—biological agriculture, wind energy plants, waste recycling—and gave rise to a more institutionalized form of environmental politics, science, and technology (Hajer 1995). Similar processes can be identified in relation to other social movements of recent decades (Rose 1994). The political struggles for civil rights, women’s and sexual liberation, and ethnic and national identity 13628

have inspired new approaches to knowledge that have since been institutionalized and transformed into established scientific fields, such as women’s studies, gay and lesbian studies, African-American studies, as well as in new areas of medicine and technology. At the same time, science itself has been reconstituted, partly as a result of the critical perspectives and cognitive challenges posed by social movements. Many of the postmodern theories of the cultural and human sciences have been inspired by the experiences of social and political movements. Out of the alternative public spaces that have been created by social and political movements has emerged a new kind of scientific pluralism, in terms of organization, worldview assumptions, and technical application. In the transformations of movements into institutions, a significant channel of cognitive and cultural change can thus be identified. It may be hoped, in conclusion, that these interactions between science and social movements will receive more substantial academic attention in the future. See also: History of Science; Innovation, Theory of; Kuhn, Thomas S (1922–96); Marx, Karl (1818–89); Social Movements, History of: General; Social Movements: Psychological Perspectives; Social Movements, Sociology of

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Science and Technology, Anthropology of Russell C 1983 Science and Social Change 1700–1900. Macmillan, London Scheler M 1980 (1924) Problems of a Sociology of Knowledge. Routledge, London Schiebinger L 1993 Nature’s Body: Gender in the Making of Modern Science. Beacon, Boston Tambiah S 1990 Magic, Science, Religion and the Scope of Rationality. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Touraine A 1988 The Return of the Actor. Social Theory in Postindustrial Society. University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis, MN

A. Jamison

Science and Technology, Anthropology of The anthropology of science and technology is an expanding arena of inquiry and intervention that critically examines the cultural boundary that sets science and technology off from the lives and experiences of people. Most research in this arena draws on ethnographic fieldwork to make visible the significance and force of this boundary, as well as meanings and experiences that cut across it or otherwise get hidden. Key categories of projects include juxtaposing shared systems of cultural meaning, following flows of metaphors back and forth across the boundary, and retheorizing or relocating the boundary itself in ways that reconnect science and technology to people. While advancing understanding of how people position science and technology in both specialized and everyday worlds, the anthropology of science and technology also calls attention to cultural possibilities whose realization might help expand participation in decision-making about science and technology.

1. Helping STS Fulfill its Dual Objecti
es The unique contribution of this field to science and technology studies (STS) is that it helps revive and refocus questions regarding relations among science, technology, and people. STS research and researchers are held together by their diverse, yet collective, efforts to trouble and transform the dominant, but simplistic, model or image of science and technology in society. According to the dominant model, researchers live in specialized technical communities whose deliberations are essentially opaque and presumably free of cultural content. Knowledge, in the singular, is created by these bright, well-trained people located inside the academy and then diffuses outside into the public arena through mechanisms of education, popularization, policy, and the benefits of new technologies. Its social significance is evaluated exclusively in the public arena, where knowledge is used, abused, or ignored. The outward travel of knowledge preserves the autonomy of creation and establishes a sharp

boundary between science and technology on the one side and people on the other, including the actual lives of scientists and technologists. STS has sought to engage this model in two ways. First, it brings together researchers who analyze the conceptual and the social dimensions of science and technology simultaneously and in historical perspective. Second, by offering new ways of thinking, STS promises to afford society new pathways for confronting and resolving problems that involve science and technology. STS thus offers the dual trajectories of theory and intervention, of proposing new frameworks of interpretation, and participating critically in societal problem solving. These activities complement one another. Good theory defines pathways that make a difference, and successful acts of critical participation depend upon novel theoretical insights. During the 1980s and early 1990s, a major focus within STS was on a philosophical debate between ‘objectivism’ and ‘(social) constructivism.’ Constructivism provided a major theoretical advance over 1970s research on the ‘public understanding of science’ and the ‘impacts’ of science and technology, which tended to take for granted the internal contents of science and technology (see Technology Assessment). One important body of constructivist work was often labeled ‘anthropology of science’ because it relied on the direct observation of scientists in laboratories to link scientific practices to knowledge development. For more information on this formative strand in the anthropology of science (see Laboratory Studies: Historical Perspecti
es; Actor Network Theory). By questioning how science and technology gain internal contents, the philosophical debate between objectivism and constructivism concentrated attention on the science\technology side of the cultural boundary with people. Also, a focus on the emergence and stabilization of either new scientific knowledge or new technological artifacts tended to maintain the more general cultural separation between science and technology (see Technology, Social Construction of ). The newer strands in the anthropology of science and technology explicitly foreground the interventionist potential of STS by moving back and forth across the boundary between science\technology and people, investigating its force and making visible meanings and experiences that get hidden when it is taken for granted. In this work, the commitment to ethnographic practices forces attention to alternative pathways for critical participation as an integral part of theoretical innovation (see also Ethnography).

2. Helping Anthropology Rethink Culture As recently as 1988, the American Anthropological Association (AAA) rejected proposed panels on the anthropology of science and technology on the grounds such work did not fit under the AAA umbrella. Things had changed by 1992 as a series of 13629

Science and Technology, Anthropology of panels on ‘cyborg anthropology’ and on the work of Donna Haraway attracted standing-room-only audiences in a ballroom setting. Key to this shift was a growing recognition that anthropological debates over the status of cultural analysis and cultural critique were similar to developments and deliberations in STS. Anthropologists grew hopeful that analyzing and critiquing the dominant model of science and technology in cultural terms might further people’s understanding of how sciences and technologies, including anthropology, live in society. Emerging questions included: what are the implications of accounting for science, technology, and people in cultural terms? Might the finding of wider cultural meanings in science and technology improve searches for alternative configurations? To what extent has anthropology itself depended on the dominant model of science and technology in society? How can one participate critically in science and technology through ethnographic work? As it emerged from symbolic anthropology during the 1970s, the concept of culture drew from the predominant model of language as an underlying grammar, structure, or system of symbols and meanings (see Culture: Contemporary Views). Beneath surface differences in speech and action among competent participants in a given community lies a more fundamental sharedness, a bounded ‘culture.’ This concept of cultures as sets of shared assumptions or presuppositions depends on a contrast with the concept of ‘nature.’ Where nature provides people with base needs and desires, culture provides content and meaning. Until the 1980s, it appeared difficult to apply the concept of culture to science and technology. While theorizing culture as a bounded system helped in accounting for differences across cultures, this approach offered no means of accounting for differences within cultures. Yet research questions in STS typically focused on the latter. Also, much research in anthropology itself, for example, kinship theory, depended on the nature\culture distinction for its legitimacy. Treating anthropological work itself as a cultural enterprise could have threatened to undermine the discipline. As Franklin (1995) put it, by the 1990s ‘several trajectories coalesce[d] to produce … momentum’ for an emerging anthropology of science and technology. Feminist anthropology had made visible the role of biological assumptions in gender and kinship studies (see Kinship in Anthropology). Poststructuralism made it possible to think about power–knowledge relationships and to make the conceptual limitations of the ‘human’ a focal point for social theory (see Knowledge, Sociology of; Postmodernism in Sociology). Postmodernist critiques of science and technology called attention to the processes of their production, making ‘progress’ a contingent effect (see Cultural Studies of Science). In revealing how anthropologists ‘write culture’ by turning people into ‘others,’ post13630

modernism in anthropology introduced ‘cultural critique’ as an anthropological practice (see Cultural Critique: Anthropological). Cross-cultural comparisons of knowledge systems began to reposition Western science as ethnoscience (see Knowledge, Anthropology of; Indigenous Knowledge: Science and Technology Studies; Postcoloniality). The rise of interdisciplinary cultural studies juxtaposed ‘popular’ with ‘high’ cultural forms, revealing power relations between the two and retheorizing culture as a site of active work (see Cultural Studies of Science). Feminist critiques of science demonstrated its saturation with gender metaphors, and feminist critiques of reproductive technologies provided compelling accounts of women’s experiences that could not be counted unproblematically as the benefits of innovation (see Feminist Epistemology; Gender and Technology). Cross-disciplinary interests in emerging transnational forms demanded simultaneous attention to technology, knowledge, and capital (see Globalization, Anthropology of; Postcoloniality; Capitalism: Global). Growing demands for accountability across the academy in general fueled interest in how ethnographic research can make a difference in the arena under study (see Ethnography; Ad
ocacy in Anthropology). During the early 1990s, cultural anthropologists studying science and technology actively resisted the label ‘anthropology of science and technology’ on the grounds it masked these trajectories, confining diverse work to a bounded subdiscipline. The label works only to mark a collection of intellectual activities within which competition exists not to achieve domination but to make a difference and where border crossing is accepted to enhance the life chances of what the dominant model submerges. Ongoing projects fall into roughly three categories, with individual researchers and studies often contributing to more than one.

3. Juxtaposing Cultural Systems of Meaning The publication of Sharon Traweek’s Beamtimes and Lifetimes in 1988 marked the emergence of projects that identify and juxtapose cultural systems of meaning in science and technology. Rather than focusing solely on theory change in science, Traweek provides ‘an account of how high energy physicists see their own world; how they have forged a research community for themselves, how they turn novices into physicists, and how their community works to produce knowledge’ (1988, p. 1). Studying the culture of highenergy physicists extends and transforms the anthropological project of cross-cultural comparison by studying people who live in more than one culture at the same time, in this case those of the international physics community, Japan, and the United States. Demonstrating sharedness among high-energy physicists and then setting physicists off as a community

Science and Technology, Anthropology of achieves two key contributions. It repositions the dominant model of science and technology, which physicists both embrace and embody, into one among many possible cultural perspectives without suggesting that all perspectives on physical knowledge are equal. The ethnographic approach also locates the researcher within the power relations that constitute the field of study and makes visible ways in which scientists function as people who live social lives. The juxtaposition of shared systems of meaning has proven fruitful in analyzing public controversies over science and technology. Articulating subordinate perspectives and locating these alongside dominant ones demonstrates that factual claims gain meaning in terms of more general frameworks of interpretation. Such work also intervenes in power relations in ways that highlight mediation and collaboration as possible pathways for resolution (see also Scientific Contro
ersies). Representative contributions in this category juxtapose Brazilian spiritists, parapsychologists, and proponents of bacterial theories of cancer with ‘orthodox’ perspectives (David Hess); antinuclear weapons groups with nuclear weapons scientists (Hugh Gusterson); creation science with evolutionary science (Christopher Toumey); antinuclear power with pronuclear power groups (Gary Downey); artificial intelligence researchers with expert system users (Diana Forsythe); advocates of midwifery with obstetrics (Robbie Davis-Floyd); Marfan scientists with technicians and activists (Deborah Heath); a unified Europe with separate nation–states seeking space travel (Stacia Zabusky); nuclear power plant operators with plant designers (Constance Perin); and competing workgroups in industry (Frank Dubinskas). Recent work questions the culture\people relationship by understanding cultures as, for example, shifting discourses (Gusterson) or recursive, cross-cutting perspectives in a social arena (Hess). Future work will likely review the notion of sharedness, no longer asserting it as a condition of anthropological analysis but exploring what gets accomplished when it can be demonstrated empirically.

4. Following Flows of Metaphors Across the Boundary The publication of Emily Martin’s The Woman in the Body in 1987 marked the emergence of projects that follow flows of metaphors from general cultural life into science and technology and back again into people’s lives and experiences. Writing a cultural history of the present, Martin demonstrates how medical conceptions of menstruation and menopause draw upon metaphors of production in portraying these as breakdown, the failure to produce. In addition to contrasting descriptions from medical textbooks with an ethnographic account of the actual experiences

of women, Martin also experiments with re-imagining menstruation and menopause as positive processes of production. Following flows of metaphors brings a new approach to the study of public understanding and of what the dominant model of science and technology characterizes as impacts. It calls direct attention to the existence and life of the cultural boundary that separates science and technology from people. How do people import scientific facts and technological artifacts into their lives and worlds? How does the dominant model of science and technology live alongside and inform other cultural meanings? Like the strategy of juxtaposition, following metaphors focuses attention on how people involve themselves with science and technology, making visible those meanings and experiences that do not have a place within the dominant model alongside those that do. What sorts of effects do scientific facts have in people’s bodies and lives? How do experiences with technologies go beyond the simply positive, negative, or neutral? How do emerging sciences and technologies contribute to the fashioning of selves? Such work makes visible patterns and forms of difference that may not correlate with demographic categories of race, gender, and class. Finally, following metaphors introduces the possibility of speculating on alternative cultural possibilities, including narrative experiments with counterfactual scenarios. While sharing with readers an anthropological method of critical thinking, such speculation also forces more explicit attention to how anthropological accounts participate critically within their fields of study. How, for example, might choices of theory and method combine with aspects of researchers’ identities to shape pathways of intervention? Work along these lines follows how sonography and amniocentesis accelerate the introduction of medical expertise into pregnancies (Rayna Rapp); the cultural origins of Western science and its shifts over time (David Hess); how people calculate in diverse settings (Jean Lave); the cultural meanings of medicine in everyday life (Margaret Lock); the narrative construction of scientists’ autobiographies (Michael Fischer); creative adjustments when medical expertise fails to account for pregnancy loss (Linda Layne); the flows of meanings that constituted the reproductive sciences as sciences (Adele Clarke); what living with gender assumptions means for women scientists (Margaret Eisenhart); how Bhopal lives as fact and image in different enunciatory communities (Kim Fortun); and how patents travel around the world (Marianne De Laet). Future work is likely to elaborate questions of scale and identity. How do metaphors gain effects at different scales and how do meanings that live at different scales combine in people’s lives and selves? How do people respond to meanings that summon 13631

Science and Technology, Anthropology of and challenge them, positioning themselves in searches for identities that work (see also Identity in Anthropology).

5. Retheorizing the Boundary between Science\Technology and People The publication of Donna Haraway’s Simians, Cyborgs, and Women in 1991 marked the emergence of projects that retheorize the boundary itself. Moving through the project of following flows of metaphors to reimagine categories that ‘implode’ on one another, Haraway calls for ‘pleasure in the confusion of boundaries and … responsibility in their construction’ (1991, p. 150). Claiming the cyborg (see Cyborg) as a feminist icon and key marker of what she calls the ‘New World Order,’ Haraway forges attention to the contemporary dissolution of boundaries between human and animal, human and machine, and physical and nonphysical. Challenging the ‘god-trick’ of universalism, she poses ‘situated knowledges’ (see Situated Knowledge: Feminist and Science and Technology Studies Perspecti
es) as a means of holding simultaneously to a radical historical contingency and a no-nonsense commitment to faithful accounts of a ‘real’ world. This project calls attention to burgeoning collections of activities involving science and technology that live across the purported separation between them or across their boundary with people. It includes the exploration of emerging fields that do not fit conventional disciplinary categories, such as biotechnology, biomedicine, and bioengineering, and documents the decline and loss of a distinction between basic and applied science. Following novel activities in research and production motivates the invention of new labels for the anthropological object of study, including, for example, ‘technoscience’ and ‘technoculture.’ The project of retheorizing the boundary between science\technology and people highlights the presence of the nature\culture distinction in anthropology of science and technology as well as in other areas of STS inquiry and intervention. Pressing questions include: through what sorts of processes do analytic findings and interpretations become naturalized as facts in everyday, or popular, modes of theorizing? In what ways might analytic accounts, including claims about culture, depend upon facts from popular theorizing? How might new modes of theorizing about analysis contribute to rethinking the nature\culture distinction itself? Finally, by calling attention to the difficulty of living within existing categories while attempting to theorize and embody new ones, retheorizing the boundary sharpens the question of intervention. Locating experiences that live across categories invites researchers 13632

to examine how emergent categories impact and inflect old ones. Through what sorts of pathways might reformulations actually intervene and achieve change in specific cases? How might it be possible to assess the extent to which reformulations and refigurations prove, in fact, to be helpful, and to whom? Contributions to this diverse project explore how ideas of the natural help constitute cultural ways of knowing (Marilyn Strathern); the situatedness of practices in machine design and machine use (Lucy Suchman); opportunities for a ‘cyborg anthropology’ that studies people without starting with the ‘human’ (Gary Downey, Joseph Dumit, Sarah Williams); how reproductive technologies blur the facts of life (Sarah Franklin); emerging refigurations to constitute and categorize artificial life (Stefan Helmreich); the activities of biotechnology scientists who move outside the academy to gain academic freedom (Paul Rabinow); the importance of ‘good hands’ and ‘mindful bodies’ in laboratory work (Deborah Heath); how practices of tissue engineering materialize new life forms (Linda Hogle); experiences with PET scanning that escape the nature\culture distinction (Joseph Dumit); the contemporary production of ‘cyborg babies’ (Robbie Davis-Floyd and Joseph Dumit); experiences of computer engineers that belie the separation of human and machine (Gary Downey); possibilities for reinvigorating general anthropology by locating technology and humans in the unified frame of cyborg (David Hakken); and how African fractal geometry escapes classification in either cultural or natural terms alone (Ron Eglash) (See also Actor Network Theory for an approach that defines both humans and nonhumans as ‘actants’.) Future work is likely to forge novel alliances among theoretical perspectives previously separated by the nature\culture distinction. Actively locating academic theorizing in the midst of popular theorizing will likely force modalities of intervention into focus. Finally, to the extent that the anthropology of science and technology succeeds in challenging and replacing the simplistic dominant model by blurring and refiguring the boundary between science\technology and people, wholly new projects of inquiry and intervention will have to emerge to take account of the changing context. See bibliography for additional reviews. See also: Actor Network Theory; Common Sense, Anthropology of; Cultural Studies of Science; Culture: Contemporary Views; Ethnography; Gender and Technology; Globalization, Anthropology of; History of Science; History of Technology; Identity in Anthropology; Indigenous Knowledge: Science and Technology Studies; Interpretation in Anthropology; Knowledge, Anthropology of; Science, New Forms of; Science, Sociology of; Scientific Culture; Scientific Disciplines, History of; Symbolism in Anthropology; Technology, Anthropology of

Science and Technology: Internationalization

Bibliography Davis-Floyd R, Dumit J (eds.) 1988 Cyborg Babies: From Techno-Sex to Techno-Tots. Routledge, New York Downey G L, Dumit J (eds.) 1998 Cyborgs & Citadels: Anthropological Inter
entions in Emerging Sciences and Technologies. SAR Press, Santa Fe, NM Franklin S 1995 Science as culture, cultures of science. Annual Re
iew of Anthropology 24: 163–84 Haraway D 1991 Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Rein
ention of Nature. Routledge, New York Heath D, Rabinow P (eds.) 1993 Bio-politics: The anthropology of the new genetics and immunology. Culture, Medicine, Psychiatry 17(special issue) Hess D J 1995 Science and Technology in a Multicultural World: The Cultural Politics of Facts and Artifacts. Columbia University Press, New York Hess D J, Layne L L (eds.) 1992 The anthropology of science and technology. Knowledge and Society 9 Layne L L (ed.) Anthropological approaches in science and technology studies. Science, Technology, & Human Values 23(1): Winter (special issue) Martin E 1987 The Woman in the Body. Beacon Press, Boston Nader L (ed.) 1996 Naked Science: Anthropological Inquiry into Boundaries, Power, and Knowledge. Routledge, New York Traweek S 1988 Beamtimes and Lifetimes: The World of High Energy Physicists. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA

G. L. Downey

Science and Technology: Internationalization Science is predominantly done in national scientific communities, but scientific information regularly crosses boundaries. Various conditions influence this flow, which means that it is not symmetric in all directions. Internationalization is the uneven process wherein cross-border linkages of communication and collaboration in science and technology among countries multiply and expand. Linkages involve individual scientists and their institutions, but also, increasingly, governments through treaties and conventions that include strong science and technology components. The growing density of interconnections between large industrial corporations regarding research in the precompetitive phase as well as technological alliances is also relevant.

1. Some Distinctions 1.1 Scientific Internationalism Scientific internationalism emerged with the development of national academies of science (Crawford et al. 1993). Later, correspondence and interchange between individual scientists channeled through international scientific unions and congresses appearing

in the nineteenth century (Elzinga and Landstro$ m 1996). The flare-up of nationalism and World War I caused a temporary rupture in this internationalism, both in mode of organization and spirit. After the war, transnational scientific relations were gradually repaired, even with Germany, but at the cost of promoting a strict neutralist ideology, nurturing an image of science disembodied from and standing above society. 1.2 Scientific Internationalization and Economic Globalization The multiplier effect of interconnections between transnational corporations (TNCs) and financial institutions that shape trade related agreements and intellectual property regimes influences, but must not be confused with, scientific internationalization. It is a ‘globalization’ process in the economic sphere, driven by for-profit motives, facilitated by a combination of neoliberal politics, privatization and informationtechnological developments. Internationalization of science, by contrast, is ultimately predicated on trust and solidarity among intellectual peers, even though it is interpenetrating increasingly with economic globalization. A further distinction is between quantitative and qualitative aspects of internationalization. Quantitative studies deal with numbers and patterns of crossborder linkages, and multinational interconnectivity or collaboration and cooperation. They provide indications of changing trends, but for deeper insights need complementation by studies of qualitative changes, e.g., emergence of new institutional arrangements and incentive systems that facilitate international exchange, reorientation of local research agendas, or harmonization of approaches to policy and priorities, like foresight methodologies, at national and regional levels. Internationalization of industrial research and development (R&D) is now recognized as an important research topic. Statistical surveys and empirical case studies confirm increases in the numbers of multicountry patents held by individual firms, as well as a proliferation of technological alliances within and between a triad of trading blocks (NAFTA; North American Free Trade Agreement, EU; European Union, and Developing Asian Economies plus Japan). In this respect it is actually more appropriate to speak of a ‘triadization’ than economic globalization. Pertinent literature on internationalization of technology also refers to other types of interaction between TNCs, and it deals with various R&D management strategies in this context. But in this respect also, extant overviews are limited largely to providing taxonomies and typologies of discernible patterns (Research Policy 1999); (for further details, see National Inno
ation Systems and Technological Inno
ation). 13633

Science and Technology: Internationalization Qualitative aspects of internationalization also include epistemic change: i.e., in the intellectual contents of scientific fields, namely, dominant perspectives, methodologies and theories. Thematic integration appears along research fronts, as well as sectoral lines where problems transcend national boundaries (acid rain, global climate change, AIDS), or are too costly for a single nation to handle alone (e.g., CERN). In these instances, and more generally, when international research programs foster coordination of national contributions they also force standardization of data formats, preferred instrumentation and experimental practices. In what follows, transformations of interconnectivity consonant with internationalism is probed in cartographic, institutional and epistemic dimensions, with political aspects also thrown in relief.

2. Tracing the Span and Patterns of International Networks At the time of writing, the volume of science, national outputs per monies allocated per gross national product (GNP), and the distribution of research efforts and patenting across the globe are mapped regularly. This is done with the help of publication counts (of papers) and reviews of who cites whom (Price 1986) to trace citation patterns and coauthorship linkages (see Scientometrics). Visibility of scientists from different countries or in regions is compared. Evaluations of research performance use science and technology indicators as proxies for effectivity, quality and international standing of research groups and their institutions. The span of global networks increased during the last decades of the twentieth century. Coauthorship patterns reveal growing contacts of scientists across national borders during the 1970s and 1980s (Hicks and Katz 1996), with a certain slackening in the 1990s (UNESCO 1998). Leading scientific producers such as the USA engage less in international coauthorships than do smaller countries—the larger the national or regional scientific community, the greater is ‘self-reliance.’ Generally, internationalism is only played up in large countries when scientific leadership is in decline, or other countries possess desired specialty knowledge. An interesting anomaly is that India and China also figure lower on polls of cross-border co-authorships than might be expected. Latin America has remained constant, while Africa, especially its sub-Saharan part, stands out as most disadvantaged. Concentration of resources, prestige, authority and recognition thus display regional variations, with densities following continental contours dominated by an Anglophone region. The predominance of English as the main language of scientific communication, as evidenced in the Science Citation Index (SCI), is also 13634

increasing. International coauthorship furthermore reveals subclusters (e.g., the Scandinavian countries) influenced by geographical vicinity, historical traditions, and linguistic as well as cultural affinities. The number of Third World countries now participating in world science has increased, but the vast majority still belong to the scientific periphery (Schott 1998). The share of liberal democracies in world science 1986 was nearly five times their share of world population, while the poorer countries’ share in scientific production counted for only one-tenth of their share of the world population. With a few remarkable exceptions (India, Brazil, China) this global gap became even more exaggerated during the 1990s (Schott 1993). Increased connectivity, scope and participation in scientific communication across national borders, in other words, cannot be equated with decreasing hierarchization. Rather, ‘globalization’ of institutional models and participation in science is accompanied by a deglobalization in dispersion of science. This contrasts sharply with the notion of science as a public good. Scientific knowledge remains highly concentrated where it is first created, namely among OECD countries. The scientific centers in advanced industrial nations, by virtue of prestige and scientific achievement (often measured by relative density of Nobel laureates in specific fields) also exercise influence over work done in peripheral countries. A Eurocentric skew persists in power, resources, problem selection, and overriding perspectives on the content and function of science and technology. The end of the Cold War opened a new era of pluricentrism, primarily around three large regional blocks: North America, the European Union, plus Japan and developing economies in Asia. These cleavages are reflected in transnational citation impact and coauthorship clusters, and they coincide with current density patterns in international trade and technology alliances (EC 1997, pp. 10–11, 93).

3. Dri
ing Factors Public spending on R&D is more intense in the USA than in the EU, while in terms of patenting, Japan has caught up with the USA, and the EU rates third (EC 1997a, pp. 53, 93). Economic globalization is a second driving force to reckon with, also uneven. With R&D investments concentrated in a few high-technology industries in the world, these lead strategic reconfigurations in S&T landscapes. Rapid advances in information and communication technologies interlock with economic development, providing new vehicles for rapid interaction (e.g., the Internet), and spurring further alliances and integration of knowledge in pre-competitive phases. Simultaneously, science is being drawn more deeply into the economic globalization process by policy responses, as countries

Science and Technology: Internationalization and whole regions (e.g., the EC through its Framework Programs) facilitate technological development for highly competitive world markets. The EC’s mobility schemes for graduate students and post docs must be seen in this light, and so also—by extension—events like the turn of the millennium announcement of a cooperative bilateral university-level agreement between two of the world’s most prestigious institutions, MIT (Massachussetts Institute of Technology, USA) and Cambridge University (UK), and the EC’s a new integrative policy for ‘the European Research Area.’ Such events herald a new phase in the intermeshing of the two processes, scientific internationalism and economic globalization. An ideological driving factor is the traditional cosmopolitan ethos inherent to academe. Associated with modernity, it incorporates the idea of progress, with a history parallel to the emergence of the nation state, democracy and secularization. This means it is in fact culturally bound, as are its CUDOS components enunciated by Robert Merton as the social glue of modern scientific institutions: intellectual Communism, Universalism, Disinterestedness, and Organized Skepticism (see Norms in Science). Recent deconstruction of such norms, standards and models of science by scholars in the newer sociology of science highlights the role of particularism, drawing attention to social mechanisms of negotiation between various actors, and how these shape or ‘stabilize’ scientific consensus that can never be final. This captures the cultural diversity of scientific practices, but not the basic ideological import of universalism as an ideal in scientific internationalism. A recent factor of internationalization resides in the global nature of environmental problems and the demand for concerted political action on a global scale to address them. Increasing numbers of treaties and conventions with strong science and technology components have been drawn up in this vein. On a converging track one finds pressures of escalating costs of large-scale facilities and calls to share budgetary burdens in newer as well as more traditional fields. The end of the Cold War was also a triggering factor. In its wake appear programs to aid Eastern and Central European scientists in their transition to capitalism and market-driven incentives, and new forms of international science and technology cooperation. Finally, there are the local pressures in smaller nations that push scientists in settings of relative isolation in all parts of the world to integrate their work more closely with research fronts. Here the benefits of internationalization and the added intellectual stimulation it entails sometimes has the makings of a self-fulfilling prophecy. Pressures to increase local visibility and gain international recognition by exposure to wider peer control of scientific quality get entrenched in procedures and new funding opportunities at national research councils and uni-

versities, affecting the behavior of individuals and groups of researchers, and success in getting grants.

4. Explanatory Models Traditional literature on the history of international scientific organizations usually distinguishes two types of fora, scientific non and intergovernmental organizations (scientific NGOs and scientific IGOs). These are taken to represent two different institutional mechanisms for fostering internationalization. In the innovation literature, on the other hand, the focus has mostly been on firms and their role in international diffusion of technologies. In general, there are two broad strands of theorizing about international organizations. One is rooted in the assumption that networks and more stable forms of organization arise in response to considerations of efficiency and rational goal-oriented behavior, in the course of which less viable alternative forms of interaction are circumvented. An economistic variant of this approach is implicit in an evolutionary theory of technological advance and diffusion. Here ‘market’ is taken as the selection mechanism that filters out a set of particular technologies from many potentially possible ones, and these get diffused across the globe (Nelson and Winter 1982). Explicitly or implicitly, the market is regarded as being determined by the tastes, preferences and purchasing power of potential technology users, who are treated as exogenous. Internationalization, in turn, becomes largely a unidirectional product of technological regimes or trajectories which cross and are taken up in socially constituted selective environments. Depending on similarities in the selection mechanisms, or ‘learning’ between national innovation systems, the transfer of ideas and technologies may be harmonized successively at a global level. Theoretical assumptions in the historiography of scientific organizations, or alternatively in regimetheory within the study of international relations, run somewhat parallel to this. Instead of the prominence attributed to an economic imperative, in these literatures ideological or political imperatives, and even communities of experts, may be foregrounded. One therefore gets the picture of internationalization primarily as the product of ideologically driven selfdirection by the scientific community (in the case of scientific NGOs) or of governments’ guiding hands, plus rules and experts (in the case of scientific IGOs). In all these accounts, the organizations in question are regarded more or less as mechanisms through which other agencies act. They are not depicted as purposive actors with an autonomy, power or culture of their own, even if regime-theory has been criticized for giving too much prominence to experts while 13635

Science and Technology: Internationalization obfuscating the role of the nation states that invest them with authority. In contrast to this, a sociological strand of theorizing takes its point of departure in Weber’s view of bureaucracies and focuses squarely on issues of legitimacy and power. Its advocates seek to explain a much broader range of impacts organizations can have, among others by virtue of their role in constructing actors, interests and social purpose. Emphasized are complexity, multiplicity and flexibility, with actors incorporated as endogenous to the processes of change. In this perspective it becomes interesting to consider how fora for international interaction, once they are created, take on a life of their own, exercising power autonomously in ways unintended and unanticipated by scientific associations or governments at the outset. The same can be said about conventions or regimes introduced to regulate and standardize intercourse between firms internationally in the fields of trade or intellectual property rights; norms are taken to have significant repercussions on the character of the interface between science and industry, and on the use of expertise in other realms. The constructivist approach associated with sociological institutionalism thus explains the emergence of the relatively autonomous powers of new international fora, in terms of the rational-legal authority they embody, emphasizing the new interests for the parties involved, and the concomitant learning process in which certain organizational models become diffused across the globe. New bureaucracies as they develop are seen to provide a generic cultural form that shapes the various forums in specific ways in their respective domains (firms, scientific NGOs, and scientific IGOs). New actors are seen to be created, responsibilities specified, and authority delineated, defining and binding the roles of both old and new actors, giving them meaning and normative values. In this model, culture, imagery, and rhetoric are held to be forceful ingredients in the life of international organizations, especially in the way these play out their roles in constructing social worlds with a global reach (Finnemore 1993, Barnett and Finnemore 1999). With the foregoing in mind, the next section highlights some empirical facets, with particular regard to the two most obvious institutional mechanisms (and associated with them, a few typically prominent actors and programs) pertinent to internationalization of—mostly academic, but also governmentally directed—science (as distinct from internationalization of R&D in industrial enterprise—for this see National Inno
ation Systems).

5. Two Institutional Mechanisms: Scientific NGOs and IGOs The numbers and influence of scientific NGOs and IGOs have grown tremendously since the 1980s. Now 13636

they not only find themselves interacting, but also pulled in different directions by lobbies of both transnational corporations (TNCs) driven by the profit motive, and nongovernmental civic society organizations (social movement NGOs). The latter are frequently fired by an ethic of equality and justice. Truth, politics, money, and human equality or justice, then, are the four ‘logics’ that meet in international forums, when strategies to tackle global problems are negotiated, e.g., Rio 1992; in the process new international groups of experts join the scene. This is an important field for future studies (Rayner and Malone 1998). Analytically, it is useful to draw a distinction between autoletic and heteroletic organizations, especially between ones meant to serve science as an end in itself, and ones that are created and sustained by governmental action (Elzinga and Landstro$ m 1996). This is parallel to the distinction between policy for science, and science for policy, serving to mark institutional separation of science from politics, an aspect central to arguments regarding the integrity and objectivity of expert knowledge under strain (see Scientific Contro
ersies).

5.1 Scientific NGOs In general, nongovernmental mechanisms operate directly between research communities of different countries, without the intervening medium of governments. They are autoletic, the premise being that communities of scientists are best be left to themselves to organize their transnational contacts for common goals. A unique example is the International Council of Scientific Unions (ICSU), the umbrella organization that in 1931 sprang from an older cosmopolitan ideal (Greenaway 1991). It coordinated the Second International Polar Year (1932–3), the forerunner of a series of programs of global, often multidisciplinary studies that began in 1952 with the plan for the International Geophysical Year (1957). Present-day successors are the International Geosphere-Biosphere Program (IGBP) and the World Climate Research Program (WCRP). These cut across disciplines pertinent to research into global environmental problems. Each has several subprograms dealing with specific themes and aspects of global climate change. Other major programs cover biodiversity (DIVERSITAS) and the International Human Dimensions of Global Environmental Change program (IHDP), cosponsored with the International Social Science Council (ISSC), ICSU’s smaller sister organization for the social sciences, created in 1952. A milestone event is the World Conference on Science in Budapest (ICSU 1999), sponsored jointly with the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), one of the world’s most wide-ranging intergovernmental organizations. Since

Science and Technology: Internationalization its foundation in 1945 UNESCO has worked constantly to link the peripheries to the centers of science.

5.2 Scientific IGOs Scientific IGOs typify the second (heteroletic) type of mechanism for internationalization. They promote scientific interchange via governmental channels. The point of departure is not scientific knowledge production as such, but the use of science for a particular purpose that form the basis for concerted action. In such contexts science is made a vehicle for the promotion of cultural, economic, political, and other goals at regional and global levels. UNESCO has already been mentioned. The World Meteorological Organization (WMO) and the World Health Organization (WHO) are two of many others within the UN family; in the domain of technology too there are many IGOs, some of which set and regulate standards. The World Bank is another significant actor. A recent addition is the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), which follows up on the science produced under the auspices of IGBP and WCRP, harmonizing research-based statements in advice to governments. This has important repercussions for scientific and technological pursuits. Some IGOs serve stakeholder interests in specific regions of the world, OECD being an example. Since 1963 it has been a pacesetter in developing R&D statistics, and science and technology policy doctrines, contributing to some harmonization between countries. A recent innovation was the creation of the Forum for Megascience (1992), renamed the Global Science Forum. It is responsible for periodical reviews of very large-scale projects so costly (in the order of billions of US dollars per year) and complex that they require multinational collaboration. Thence science and international diplomacy must meet to produce unique management cultures (Watkins 1997). Megaprojects can be concentrated at one site (e.g., CERN) or distributive (e.g., the Human Genome Project). Deep ocean drilling, climate change, thermonuclear fusion experimentation, as well as Antarctic research are further examples. Antarctica is a continent shaped by science as key vehicle in an international regime outside the UN (Elzinga, in Crawford et al. 1993).

6. Intermesh and Thematic Integration Proliferation and interpenetration of scientific NGOs and IGOs over past decades has gone hand-in-hand with a corresponding growth in numbers of civic NGOs and corporate lobbies. These also interact with scientific bodies, adding to the hybrid criss-cross of connections in which scientific and political agendas converge and blend. Leading scientists respond to the strain by constantly reemphasizing the need to protect

the objectivity and integrity of scientific knowledge claims (Greenaway 1991). Conflicts have emerged around attempts to commercialize and privatize national databases, with both ICSU and IGOs, like the WMO, coming out strongly in favor of a policy for open access to information that is invaluable for world research on global problems. Similar tensions have evolved over intellectual property in biotechnology, where scientists are more apt to be of two minds (see Intellectual Property, Concepts of). In the wake of globalization, in Third World countries in particular, both scientists and politicians have reacted against the design of Trade Related Intellectual Property Rights (TRIPS) as negotiated within the World Trade Organization (WTO). Around these and other issues, new tensions arise to pull scientists in several directions along the four different ‘logics’ (delineated at the beginning of Sect. 4). Thematic integration of research agendas is a second qualitative dimension needing further study. How problems are framed, data, as well as concept formation involves interpretation and epistemological imperatives (see Situated Knowledge: Feminist and Science and Technology Studies Perspecti
es). This is apparent in research on global climate change, where large international scientific programs (IGBP and WCRP) work hand-in-hand with IPCC to orchestrate problem sets, preferred methodologies and modeling criteria. Core sets of concepts spun in the world’s leading scientific countries with epistemic communities of climatologists around General Circulation Models (GMCs) have a bearing on the type of data field workers should look for, and the format in which the data are cast; special funding programs exist that enroll scientists from the scientific peripheries. Creating global consensus around a core of scientifically accepted knowledge and streamlining homogeneous accounts to spur concerted political action have epistemological implications beyond science. As activities, they contribute to the formation of common world views. Concepts such as ‘global warming potential’ (of greenhouse gases) help to build bridges between science and political decision-making. The very notion of ‘global climate,’ as well as ‘Earth system science’ are other examples where conceptual work facilitate cognitive integration, both over disciplinary boundaries in science and in interfaces with citizens at large (Jasanoff and Wynne, in Rayner and Malone 1998). They change our world picture in a reimagining of humankind in its encounters with nature (e.g., ideas like anthropogenic ‘fingerprints’). Representations of local climates, the atmosphere, and circulations systems in the oceans are linked up with representations of human ecology (e.g., land use), which in turn are linked to conceptions of risk and truth (see Risk, Sociology and Politics of). Internationalization of science resonates with gradual reorientation of perspectives and scientific practices in unitary fashion. To what extent alternatives to expertise as avenues of 13637

Science and Technology: Internationalization knowledge production are foreclosed remains a contentious issue. See also: History of Science; History of Technology; International Organization; International Science: Organizations and Associations; Science and Technology, Social Study of: Computers and Information Technology; Scientific Academies, History of; Universities and Science and Technology: Europe; Universities and Science and Technology: United States

Bibliography Barnett M, Finnemore M 1999 The politics, power, and pathologies of international organizations. International Organization 53: 699–732 Crawford C, Shinn T, So$ rlin S (eds.) 1993 Denationalizing Science. Kluwer, Dordrecht, The Netherlands European Commission 1997 Second European Report on S&T Indicators. Office for Official Publications of the European Communities, Luxembourg. Elzinga A, Landstro$ m C (eds.) 1996 Internationalism and Science. Taylor Graham, London Finnemore M 1993 International organizations as teachers of norms—the United Nations Educational and Cultural Organization and science policy. International Organization 47: 565–97 Greenaway F 1991 Science International: A History of the International Council of Scientific Unions. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Hicks D, Katz J S 1996 Where is science going? Science, Technology and Human Values 21: 379–406 ICSU 1999 Science International [Sept: Special Issue] ICSU Secretariat, Paris Nelson R, Winter S 1982 An E
olutionary Theory of Economic Change. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA Price D de S 1986 Little Science, Big Science and Beyond. Columbia University Press, New York Rayner S, Malone E (eds.) 1998 Human Choice and Climate Change. Batelle Press, Columbus, OH, vol. 1 Research Policy 1999 Special Issue 28, 107–36 (The internationalization of Industrial R&D) Schott S 1993 World science: Globalization of institutions and participation. Science, Technology and Human Values 18: 196–208 Schott T 1998 Between center and periphery in the scientific world system: Accumulation of rewards, dominance and selfreliance in the center. Journal of World-systems Research 4: 112–44 UNESCO 1998 World Science Report. Elsevier, Paris Watkins J D 1997 Science and technology in foreign affairs. Science 277: 650–1

A. Elzinga

collaborations between sociotechnical systems (STS) scholars and maverick computer scientists began. This passes lightly over some early important work critiquing automation, such as that of J. D. Bernal, the early days of the STS movement in Europe, particularly in England, Germany, and Scandinavia, and the neo Marxian analyses of labor process, many of which came to inform later STS work described below. The nexus of work that currently links STS with computer and information science is a very complex one, with roots in all the areas described below, and held together by a strong, invisible college. This group shares a common concern with how computers shape, and are shaped by, human action, at varying levels of scale. The links with STS include concerns about computer design within the social construction of technology; computers as an agent of social or organizational change; ethics and\or computing (Introna and Nissenbaum 2000); critical studies of computers and computer\information science; applied, activist, and policy research on issues such as the ‘digital divide,’ or the unequal distribution of computing and information technology across socioeconomic strata and regions of the world. Some contributions from this part of STS that have been used by scholars in many other parts of the field are Suchman’s ‘situated action’ perspective; Star’s ‘boundary objects’ (Star and Griesemer 1989); Forsythe’s methodological questions about ‘studying up’ and the politics of the anthropology of computing (1993); Henderson’s work on engineering drawings as ‘conscription devices’ (1999); Edwards’ work on computing and the Cold War, and its model of ‘closed and green’ worlds (1996); Berg’s critique of rationalization in medicine via computing (1997); Heath and Luff’s study of ‘centers of control’ via the technologies and interactions of the London Underground work force (2000); Woolgar’s program building and analytic work—much of it concerning the World Wide Web—from the Virtual Society? Program based at Brunel University (Grint and Woolgar 1997); Bowker’s concept of ‘infrastructural inversion,’ taken from information management at Schlumberger Corporation (1994); and Yates’ historical examination of information control techniques in American business (1989, 1996, 1999); Hanseth et al.’s work on standards and ethics in information technology (1996); and Bowker and Star’s work on large-scale classification schemes (1999).

Science and Technology, Social Study of: Computers and Information Technology

1. Automation and the Impact of Computerization

Roots and origins being elusive and often illusory, I will date this article from about 1980, when some key

Many early studies of computers and society, or computers and organizations, concerned computing

13638

Science and Technology, Social Study of: Computers and Information Technology as an automation of human work. This included two major analytical concerns: the replacement of humans by machines in the workplace, and the ‘deskilling’ of existing functional jobs (Braverman 1998). Later, the analytic picture became much richer, as researchers realized that automation and deskilling were just two dimensions of the picture. An early breakthrough article by two social-computer scientists defined this territory as ‘the web of computing’ (Kling and Scacchi 1982), a term which became a touchstone for the next generation. It refers to the co-construction of human work and machine work, in the context of complex organizations and their politics. Much of this research took place in business schools; some in departments of sociology or industrial psychology. In Scandinavia and other regions with strong labor unions, partnerships between the unions and researchers were important, at first focused on job replacement and deskilling, and later, on design created through partnerships with users, social scientists, and computer designers (discussed below). The social impact of computing remains a strong research strain worldwide, despite the anthropological fact that finding ‘untouched tribes’ is increasingly difficult. Thus the problematics of interest to STS have shifted from initial impact on a group or institution, to understanding ongoing dynamics such as usage, local tailoring of systems, shifts in design approaches, understanding the role of infrastructure in helping to form impacts, and the ecology of computers, paper, telephones, fax machines, face-to-face communication, and so forth commonly found in most offices, and increasingly in homes and schools.

2. The Emulation of Human Cognition and Action (Artificial Intelligence and Robotics) The early program of artificial intelligence (AI) work, beginning in an organized way during World War II, was to create a machine that would emulate human thinking (classic AI) and action (robotics). Some of the emulation work came in the form of intelligent tutoring systems and expert systems (Wenger 1987) meant to replace or supplement human decision making. The decision-making side of the research continues to be strong in management schools and in government agencies; it is often critiqued by STS researchers, although some do use these tools (Gilbert and Heath 1985, Byrd et al. 1992). The discussion about whether emulation of human thinking would be possible dates far back; it came to the attention of many STS researchers with the work of philosopher Hubert Dreyfus (1979, 1992), who argued for the irreducibility of human thought and therefore its impossibility in computers. Later STS researchers (including Forsythe, Star, and Suchman) formed direct collaborations with AI researchers. These part-

nerships took both critical and system-building forms; in both cases, the social science researchers acted as informants about the nature of the ‘real world’ as opposed to the emulated world of AI. AI changed during the late 1980s and early 1990s—some computer scientists spoke of the ‘AI winter,’ referring to funding problems unknown in the 1970–88 period. As personal computing and e-mail spread, and later, the Web (1994 ), and the early promises of AI seemed not to be paying off, AI began to lose its prestige within computer science. Many AI researchers changed to problems in information science, software engineering, or cognitive science. A branch of AI, distributed artificial intelligence, continued to interact with the STS community (Huhns 1987, Huhns and Gasser 1989). Their interests were in modeling and supporting spatially and temporally distributed work and decision practices, often in applied settings. This reflected and bridged to STS concerns with community problemsolving, communication and translation issues, and the division of labor in large scientific projects.

3. The Enterprise of Computing, Its Military Roots and the Role of Acti
ism In 1983 US President Ronald Reagan introduced his (in)famous ‘Star Wars’ (officially known as the Strategic Defense Initiative, or SDI) military defense program, a massively expensive attempt to create a distributed laser and missile-based system in space that would protect the USA from foreign attack. The proposal put computer scientists, and especially software engineers, at the center of the design effort. An immediate outcry was raised by the computing community as well as by alarmed STS scholars close to it. There were concerns that a system of that magnitude was untestable; tools were lacking even to emulate the testing. There were concerns about its viability on other grounds. There were also concerns about its ecological impact on the field of computer science (akin to those raised by organismal biologists about the Human Genome Project)—that the lion’s share of research funds would be funneled into this project, orphaning others. A new group, Computer Scientists for Social Responsibility (CPSR) (www.cpsr.org), was formed in Silicon Valley as a focus for these concerns. The group quickly found common ground in many areas, including activist, ethical, policy and intellectual questions. It has flourished and now sponsors or cosponsors three conferences a year in which STS scholars often participate: Computers, Freedom and Privacy (policy); Directions in Advanced Computing (DIAC) (intellectual and design directions, and their political and ethical bases and outcomes); and the Participatory Design Conference (PDC) (brings together users, community organizers, computer and social scientists to work on issues of co-design and 13639

Science and Technology, Social Study of: Computers and Information Technology appropriate technology) (Kyng and Mathiassen 1997). It, like its counterparts in the UK (Computers and Social Responsibility) and elsewhere, became an important meeting ground between STS and computer\ information science. This was especially true of those critical of military sponsorship of computing agendas (at one point in the US some 98 percent of all funding of computer science came from the military, especially ARPA (formerly DARPA)—the Advanced Research Projects of the Army, arguably the critical actor in the creation of the internet (Abbate 1999). Beginning in the 1980s, a grassroots movement sometimes called ‘community computing’ arose, and linked with CPSR and other similar organizations. It attempted to increase access to computing for poor people and those disenfranchised from computing for a variety of reasons (Bishop 2000). This often involved the establishment of ‘freenets,’ or publicly available free computing. Terminals were placed in venues such as public libraries, churches, and after-school clubs; some were distributed directly to people in need. This general problematic has come to be called the ‘digital divide,’ and forms an active nexus of research across many areas of interest to STS. An important part of the attempt to enfranchise everyone arose in the world of feminist activism and scholarship, as early computer hackers were nearly all male, and there were sexist and structural barriers to women as both users and professionals. Another meeting place between STS and computer\information science was formed by numerous conferences on women in computer science, gender and computing, and feminist analyses of the problem choice and ethics of computer science. An excellent series of conferences, whose proceedings are published in book form every four years, is sponsored by IFIPS (the International Federation of Information Processing Societies, Working Group 9.1, entitled Women, Work and Computing). See, for example, Grundy et al. (1997). There is a resurgence of interest in this topic with the advent of the Web (see, e.g., Wakeford 1999).

(1996) looked at issues such as the culture of programming, its practices, and the role of technicians (Barley and Orr 1997). Some, such as Nardi, conducted usability tests for prototypes of systems. Sociologists examined work practices, organizational processes, and informed the computer scientists about the ways in which these issues could shape or block design (Star and Ruhleder 1996).

4. Design

5.2 Computer-supported Cooperati
e Work (CSCW) and the Participatory Design Mo
ement (PD)

Beginning in the early 1980s, but reaching full strength in the late 1980s, a number of STS and STS-linked scholars began studying information technology design. This took two forms: studying the work of doing design, and doing design as part of a multidisciplinary team. Henderson’s work (cited above) on the visual design practices of engineers is a good example of the former; other important works in the area include Kunda (1992); and a special issue on Design of the journal Computer Supported Collaborati
e Work (Volume 5:4, 1996). STS scholars participating directly in design did so in a number of ways. Anthropologists (such as Nardi 1993, Nardi and O’Day 1999) and Orr 13640

5. From ‘The Unnamable’ to Social Informatics: Shaping an In
isible College Linked to STS An invisible college of social scientists, including STS researchers, who do–study–critique computer and information science has steadily grown since the early 1980s. A brief overview of some of the ‘sister travelers’ now growing in strength in STS itself includes the following.

5.1 Organization Theory and Analysis People who study organizations have for some time been concerned with the use and impact of computing within them. During the 1990s, STS has become an increasingly important theoretical resource for this field, and has resulted in a number of organization science conferences inviting keynote addresses by STS scholars; reading STS work and attempting to apply it in organizational design and studies. The work of Latour and actor network theory has been especially important (Orlikowski et al. 1995). The policy area of STS has also become increasingly important where issues of privacy, employee rights, intellectual property, and risk are related to computer and information systems (regular updated reports and references can be found on Phil Agre’s ‘Red Rock Eater’ electronic news service: http:\\dlis.gseis.ucla.edu\people\pagre\rre. html).

Cognitive and experimental psychologists have been involved with the design of computer and information systems since at least the 1950s. They formed a field that came to be known as Human–Computer Interaction (HCI). This field focused originally on very small-scale actions, such as measuring keyboard strokes, attention and interface design, ergonomics of workstations, and usability at the level of the individual user. In the late 1980s, part of this field began to stretch out to more organizational and cultural issues (Grudin 1990, Bannon 1990). The impact of the

Science and Technology, Social Study of: Computers and Information Technology personal computer and the consequent decentralization of computing, and the rapid spread of networked computing to non-computer specialists were important factors. This wing of HCI began to draw together computer scientists, sociologists, anthropologists, and systems analysts of like mind. In 1986 there was a search to put a name to this. Two of the major competitors were ‘office information systems’ (to replace the old ‘office automation’), and ‘computersupported cooperative work (CSCW),’ which won out. CSCW is an interdisciplinary and international group that studies a range of issues including the nature of cooperation, critiques of computer science, building systems to support cooperative work (both local and high distributed). STS scholars have been part of this field since the beginning; Star was a founding co-editor of the journal. Her work and that of Suchman’s have been widely used in CSCW. Closely linked with CSCW is PD, the practice of designing computer systems with user communities and social informaticians. Annual conferences are held in tandem with CSCW. They have picked up and actively use STS approaches. The roots of PD have been reviewed recently by Asarco (2000); they include corporate initiatives, community development, social movements, and the Scandinavian School, discussed in the next section.

5.3 The ‘Scandina
ian School’ In the 1950s the (powerful) trade unions in Scandinavia helped to pass the ‘codetermination legislation.’ This law stated that unions must be involved in technological design—originally motivated by concerns about deskilling and job loss through automation. A form of sociotechnical systems analysis evolved into a set of techniques for studying work places and processes. As computers arrived in the workplace, this came to include progressive computer scientists and social scientists, many of whom now participate in STS publishing and conferences, as well as CSCW and PD (Greenbaum and Kyng 1991, Bjerknes et al. 1987, Bødker 1991, Neumann and Star 1996).

5.4 Computers and Education The use of computers for science education began in the 1960s. The study of this, based in schools of education and science departments, has had both critical components and basic research. In recent years, the addition of distance education via computers, internet classes, and the ubiquity of computers in college classes has become a critical component of this community. One branch is called ComputerSupported Cooperative Learning (CSCL), and has a

lively relationship with both STS and CSCW (Koschmann 1996). STS concepts are beginning to be used across all areas of science education, and recent STS conferences reflect the links strengthening between science education and STS.

5.5 Former Library Schools as an Emergent Nexus for STS Work Since the 1980s, schools of library science have experienced massive closures, due to a complex of corporatization, declining public sphere funding for public libraries, and a general move to close professional schools whose faculty and students are mostly women (social work and physical therapy schools have met similar fates). In the USA, a few of the surviving library schools have reinvented themselves as new ‘Schools of Information,’ most dropping the word ‘library’ from the title. Sites include the University of Michigan, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, University of North Carolina, and Indiana University. Their faculty now includes social scientists, computer and information scientists, and library scientists. STS work is central to many of the programs, and several faculty members from the STS world who work with information technology or information itself have found positions there. The structural shape of the programs differs in countries with different forms of funding, and different configurations of the public sphere. Kling’s ‘Social Informatics’ page is an excellent resource (http:\\www.slis. indiana.edu\SI\), as is Myers’ ‘Qualitative Research in Information Science’ (http:\\www.auckland.ac. nz\msis\isworld\) (see also Kling 2000). However, STS work is still very influential, for example, at the Royal School of Librarianship in Copenhagen.

6. The Web: Cultural Studies, Economic Impact, Social Practices, and Ethics The public availability of the World Wide Web from 1994 and the commercialization of the Internet–Web, combined with falling prices for computers with good graphics and cheap memory, has changed the face of computing dramatically. Many STS scholars have been involved in different facets of studying the Web. Cultural studies of chat rooms, home pages, MOOs and MUDs, and social inequities in distribution and use have exploded (see e.g., Turkle 1995). Some of this is adapted by STS scholars as studying the use and development of technology; some as a lens through which technology mediates culture. E-commerce, including scientific publishing, has come to overlap with STS work (e.g., Knorr-Cetina and Preda 1998). Ethical areas, such as privacy, electronic stalking and harassment, hate speech sites, and identification of 13641

Science and Technology, Social Study of: Computers and Information Technology minors on the Web (which are protected by human subjects regulations, but impossible to identify in many e-venues) are among these issues (Friedman and Nissenbaum 1996).

7. Challenges and Future Directions One of the difficult things for STS scholars who work in this area is the process of tacking back and forth between sympathetic communities housed in information and computer science, STS itself, and one’s home discipline. This appears at many levels: job openings, publications, choosing conferences to attend, and the growing call from within industry and computer science for ethnographers, social science evaluators, and co-designers. Sometimes this latter call takes the form of guest talks to technical groups, keynote addresses at technical meetings, consulting, or being asked for free advice about complex social problems within an organization. As with STS itself, there are a growing number of PhD programs within social informatics, broadly speaking, and the field is both spreading and converging. This may, in the long run, ease the juggling problem. At present, most researchers in the area pursue a double career, publishing and participating in both computer\IS and STS communities, with some bridge-building back to the home disciplines. Another challenge lies in the area of methods. Many social informatics\STS researchers inherited methodological practices from their home disciplines, and some of these make an uneasy fit with current technological directions. For example, there is now a great deal of survey research and of ‘ethnography’ being done on the Web, including intense study of chat rooms, e-discussion lists, and other forms of online behavior. On the survey side, sampling and validity problems loom large, although they are old problems with venerable methods literatures addressing their solution. The question of sampling only from those with e-mail hookups is similar to the old question of sampling only those who have telephones. Every sample has limits. However, the validity issue, such as the practices of filling out e-mail forms, how the survey appears in the context of many other e-mail messages, and the impact of the genre itself on the content is only now beginning to be explored. Similarly, for ethnographers, it is clear that e-mail messages are not the readymade fieldnotes that many early studies (i.e., from the early 1990s) delighted in. Forms of triangulation between online and offline research are now coming to the fore in sophisticated methods discussions; another contribution lies in the socially little-known interaction between the built information environment and the phenomenology of users (Wakeford and Lyman 1999). In conclusion, growing overlaps between complex computer\information science groups, STS, and the 13642

other social worlds listed above means new opportunities for STS. STS students are finding employment in corporate research and development (R&D) settings, new information schools, government policy employers concerned about information technology, and in the non-profit sector concerned with issues such as the digital divide. A note on access: much of this sort of material exists in the proceedings of conferences and is indexed by corporate or organizational authors. It is, in libraries, usually held in special Computer Science libraries on campus, and is, by social science standards, badly indexed. Seek help from the reference librarian to find this material. Working groups or special interest groups (SIGs in computer science terminology) can be powerful loci of change, with thousands of members, both professional and academic. Some are of direct interest to STS scholars, such as SIGSOC, the Special Interest Group on Computers and Society run by the ACM (Association for Computer Machinery, the dominant professional organization for computer scientists in the USA) or ACM- SIGCHI (SIG on Computers and Human Interaction), which has grown so large it is now functionally its own professional organization. Although all professions have jargon and acronyms, computer and information science is highly dense with them. Scholars seeking to build bridges to the computer\information science community can consult many online ‘acronym servers’ such as Free On-Line Dictionary of Computing at http:\\foldoc.doc.ic.ac.uk\foldoc\index.html; acronym finder at http:\\www.acronymfinder.com\.

8. Selected Journal Resources Publishing Some STS Work Accounting, Management and Information Technology (which, in 2000, was due to change its name to Information and Organization) Organization Science Computer Supported Cooperati
e Work (CSCW): The Journal of Collaborati
e Computing Information Systems Research The Scandina
ian Journal of Information Science CSCL Learning Sciences Journal of the American Society of Information Sciences Human–Computer Interaction The Information Society Information Technology and People CMC Magazine Electronic Journal on Virtual Culture: http:\\www.monash.edu.au\journals\ejvc\ See also: Artificial Intelligence in Cognitive Science; Communication: Electronic Networks and Pub-

Science and Technology, Social Study of: Computers and Information Technology lications; Communication: Philosophical Aspects; Computers and Society; Digital Computer: Impact on the Social Sciences; Human–Computer Interaction; Human–Computer Interface; Information and Knowledge: Organizational; Information Society; Information Technology; Information Theory; Mass Communication:Technology;ScienceandTechnology: Internationalization; Telecommunications and Information Policy

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Friedman B, Nissenbaum H 1996 Bias in computer systems. ACM Transactions on Information Systems 14: 330–48 Gilbert N, Heath C (eds.) 1985 Social Action and Artificial Intelligence. Gower, Aldershot, UK Greenbaum J, Kyng M 1991 Design at Work: Cooperati
e Design of Computer Systems. Erlbaum, Hillsdale, NJ Grint K, Woolgar S 1997 The Machine at Work: Technology, Work, and Organization. Polity Press, Cambridge, UK Grudin J 1990 The computer reaches out: The historical continuity of interface design. In: Chew J, Whiteside J (eds.) Proceedings of the CHI ’90 Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems, April 1–5; ACM Press, Seattle, WA, pp. 261–68 Grundy A F et al. (eds.) 1997 Spinning a web from past to future. Proceedings of the 6th International IFIP Conference. Bonn, Germany, May 24–27, Springer, Berlin Heath C, Luff P 2000 Technology in Action. Cambridge University Press, New York Hanseth O, Monteiro E, Hatling M 1996 Developing information infrastructure: The tension between standardization and flexibility. Science, Technology, and Human Values 21: 407–27 Henderson K 1999 On Line and on Paper: Visual Representations, Visual Culture, and Computer Graphics in Design Engineering. MIT Press, Cambridge, MA Huhns M (ed.) 1987 Distributed Artificial Intelligence. Morgan Kaufmann, Los Altos, CA Introna L, Nissenbaum H 2000 The politics of search engines. IEEE Spectrum 37: 26–28 Kling R 2000 Learning about information technologies and social change: The contribution of social informatics. The Information Society 16: 21–232 Kling R, Scacchi W 1982 The web of computing: Computing technology as social organization. Ad
ances in Computers 21: 3–78 Knorr-Cetina K D, Preda A 1998 The epistemization of economic transactions. In: Sales A, Adikhari K (eds.) Knowledge, Economy and Society. Sage, New York Koschmann T (ed.) 1996 CSCL, Theory and Practice of an Emerging Paradigm. Erlbaum, Mahwah, NJ Kunda G 1992 Engineering Culture: Control and Commitment in a High-tech Corporation. Temple University Press, Philadelphia, PA Kyng M, Mathiassen L (eds.) 1997 Computers and Design in Context. MIT Press, Cambridge, MA Luff P, Hindmarsh J, Heath C (eds.) 2000 Workplace Studies: Reco
ering Work Practice and Informing System Design. Cambridge University Press, New York Nardi B A 1993 A Small Matter of Programming: Perspecti
es on End User Computing. MIT Press, Cambridge, MA Nardi B A, O’Day V 1999 Information Ecologies: Using Technology with Heart. MIT Press, Cambridge, MA Neumann L, Star S L 1996 Making infrastructure: The dream of a common language. In: Blomberg J, Kensing F, DykstraErickson E (eds.) Proceedings of PDC ’96 (Participatory Design Conference). Computer Professionals for Social Responsibility, Palo Alto, CA, pp. 231–40 Orlikowski W, Walsham G, Jones M, DeGross J (eds.) 1995 Information Technology and Changes in Organizational Work. Proceedings of IFIP WG8.2 Conference, Cambridge, UK. Chapman and Hall, London Orr J E 1996 Talking About Machines: An Ethnography of a Modern Job. ILR Press, New York Star S L 1988 The structure of ill-structured solutions: Heterogeneous problem-solving, boundary objects and distri-

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S. L. Star

Science and Technology Studies: Ethnomethodology Ethnomethodology is a sociological approach to the study of practical actions which has influenced the development of constructionist, discourse analytic, and related approaches in science and technology studies (S&TS). Early ethnomethodological studies of ordinary activities and social scientific research practices developed an orientation to local practices, situated knowledge, and concrete discourse which later became prominent in science and technology studies. In addition to being a precursor to S&TS, ethnomethodology continues to offer a distinctive approach to practical actions in science and mathematics which rivals more familiar versions of social constructionism.

1. Ethnomethodological Research Policies In the 1960s, Harold Garfinkel coined the term ethnomethodology as a name for a unique sociological approach to practical actions and practical reasoning (Garfinkel 1974, Heritage 1984, p. 45, Lynch 1993, pp. 13644

3–10). Garfinkel was influenced by existential phenomenology (especially Schutz 1962) and sociological theories of action (especially Parsons 1937). As usually defined, ethnomethodology is the investigation of ‘folk methods’ for producing the innumerable practical and communicative actions which constitute a society’s form of life. 1.1

Ethnomethodological Indifference

Unlike methodologists in the philosophy of science who accord special status to scientific methods, ethnomethodologists examine methods for composing and coordinating ordinary as well as scientific activities. Garfinkel deemed all methods to be worthy of detailed study. This research policy is known as ethnomethodological indifference (Garfinkel and Sacks 1970, pp. 345–6, Lynch 1993, pp. 141–2). According to this policy, any method is worthy of study, regardless of its professional status, relative importance, adequacy, credibility, value, and necessity. This does not mean that ethnomethodologists treat all methods as equally ‘good’; instead, it means that they do not believe that preconceptions about the importance and validity of particular methods should determine a choice of research topic. Ethnomethodological indifference is similar in some respects to the more familiar policies of symmetry and impartiality in the Strong Programme in the sociology of scientific knowledge (Bloor 1976, pp. 4–5). However, there is a significant difference between the two, which has to do with a less obvious implication of the term ‘ethnomethodology.’ In addition to being a name for an academic field that studies ‘folk methods,’ the term refers to ‘methodologies’—systematic inquiries and knowledge about methods—which are internal to the practices studied. Many social scientists (including many in S&TS) assume that the persons they study perform their activities unreflexively or even unconsciously, and that the intervention of an outside analyst is necessary for explicating, explaining, and criticizing the tacit epistemologies that underlie such activities. In contrast, ethnomethodological indifference extends to the privileges ascribed to social scientific analysis and criticism: Persons doing ethnomethodological studies can ‘care’ no more or less about professional sociological reasoning than they can ‘care’ about the practices of legal reasoning, conversational reasoning, divinational reasoning, psychiatric reasoning, and the rest. (Garfinkel and Sacks 1970, p. 142)

Perhaps more obviously than other domains of practice, scientific research involves extensive methodological inquiry and debate. Science is not alone in this respect. In modern (and also many ancient) societies, large bodies of literature articulate, discuss, and debate the practical, epistemic, and ethical character of a broad array of activities, including legal procedures,

Science and Technology Studies: Ethnomethodology food preparation, dining, sexuality, child rearing, gardening, and fly fishing. Any effort to explain such practices sociologically must first come to terms with the fact that explanations of many kinds (including social explanations) are embedded reflexively in the history, production, and teaching of the activities themselves.

1.2 Ethnomethodological Reflexi
ity Garfinkel (1967, p. 1) spoke of the ‘reflexive’ or ‘incarnate’ character of accounting practices and accounts. By this he meant that social activities include endogenous practices for displaying, observing, recording, and certifying their regular, normative, and ‘rational’ properties. In other words, social agents do not just act in orderly ways, they examine, record, and reflexively monitor their practices. This particular sense of ‘reflexivity’ goes beyond the humanistic idea that individuals ‘reflect’ on their own situations when they act, because it emphasizes collective, and often highly organized, accounting practices. The fact that the persons and organized groups that social scientists study already observe, describe, and interpret their own methodic practices can provoke challenges to the authority of social science methods when the latter conflict with native accounts. Whether or not a social scientist agrees with, for example, official accounts of scientific method given by the subjects of an ethnographic or historical investigation, it is necessary to pay attention to the more pervasive way in which methodic understandings, and understandings of method, play a constitutive role in the practices under study. For ethnomethodologists, the research question is not just ‘How do a society’s (or scientific field’s) members formulate accounts of their social world?,’ but ‘How do members perform actions so as to make them account-able; that is, observable and reportable in a public domain of practice?’ Accordingly, accounts are not simply interpretations made after actions take place; instead, actions display their accountability for others who are in a position to witness, interpret, and record them.

1.3

Topic and Resource

The idea that explanations, explanatory concepts, and, more generally, natural language resources are common to professional sociology and the activities sociologists study is a source of long-standing consternation and confusion in the social sciences (Winch 1990, [1958]). As Garfinkel and Sacks (1970, p. 337) noted: The fact that natural language serves persons doing sociology, laymen or professionals, as circumstances, as topics, and as

resources of their inquiries furnishes to the technology of their inquiries and to their practical sociological reasoning its circumstances, its topics, and its resources.

An injunction developed by ethnomethodologists (Zimmerman and Pollner 1970), and adopted by proponents of discourse analysis (Gilbert and Mulkay 1984) is that social analysts should not confuse topic and resource. That is, they should not confuse the common sense explanations given by participants in the social activities studied with the analytic resources for studying those same activities. A variant of this injunction in social studies of science warns the analyst not to adopt, for polemical purposes, the very vocabulary of scientific authority that social studies of science make problematic (Woolgar 1981, Ashmore 1989). While this may be good advice in particular cases, when taken as a general policy the injunction not to confuse topic and resource may seem to encourage a retreat from the very possibility of describing or explaining, let alone criticizing, the practices in question. If every possible analytic resource is already found in the social world as a problematic social phenomenon, then what would a sociologist have to say that is not already incorporated into the practices and disputes studied? While acknowledging that this is a problem for any sociological explanation of science, Latour (1986) recommends a ‘semiotic turn’ which would examine the terms of the (scientific) tribe from the vantage point provided by an abstract theoretical vocabulary. But, unless one grants special epistemic status to semiotics, this ‘turn’ simply reiterates the problem.

2. Ethnomethodology and the Problem of Description Ethnomethodologists do not agree upon a single solution to the problem of reflexivity, and contradictory ways of handling it are evident in the field, but some ethnomethodologists believe that sociological descriptions do not require special theoretical or analytical auspices in order to overcome reflexivity. As Sharrock and Anderson (1991, p. 51) argue, under most circumstances in which descriptions are made and accepted as adequate, there is no need to overcome epistemological scepticism. Ethnomethodologists treat reflexivity as ubiquitous, unavoidable, and thus ‘irremediable.’ Consequently, reflexivity is not a ‘methodological horror’ (Woolgar 1988, p. 32) that makes description or explanation impossible or essentially problematic, because an ethnomethodologist is in no worse (or better) shape than anyone else who aims to write intelligible, cogent, and insightful descriptions of particular states of affairs. Even so, there still remains the question of the scientific, or other, grounds of ethnomethodological descriptions. 13645

Science and Technology Studies: Ethnomethodology 2.1 The Possibility of ‘Scientific’ Descriptions of Human Beha
ior A possible basis for ethnomethodological descriptions is presented in an early argument written by Sacks (1992, pp. 802–5), the founder of a field that later came to be called conversation analysis. This was a brief, but intriguing, argument about the possibility of developing a science that produces stable, reproducible, naturalistic accounts of human behavior. Sacks observed that natural scientists already produce accounts of human behavior when they write natural language descriptions of methods for reproducing observations and experiments. Social scientists who attempt to describe ‘methods’ in a broad range of professional and non-professional activities are in no worse position than natural scientists who attempt to describe their own particular methods. In other words, Sacks conceived of the replication of experiments as a particular (but not necessarily special) case of the reproduction of social structures. While social scientists do not aim to produce ‘how to’ manuals, they can write accounts of social actions which are ‘true’ in a praxiological sense: adequate to the production and reproduction of the relevant practices.

producing standard laboratory protocols (Garfinkel 1986, 1991, Garfinkel et al. 1981, Livingston 1986, Suchman 1987). 2.3 Ethnomethodology and Social Constructionism Ethnomethodology has an ambivalent relation to social constructionism. Early laboratory studies (Latour and Woolgar 1979, Knorr 1981) integrated selected themes from ethnomethodology into constructionist arguments, but many ethnomethodologists prefer to speak of the ‘production’ rather than the ‘construction’ of social orders (Lynch 1993, Button and Sharrock 1993). While it may be so that no fact is ever free of ‘construction’ in the broadest sense of the word, local uses of the term in empirical science (though not in mathematics and certain branches of theory) refer to research artifacts which are distinguished from a field of natural objects (Lynch 1985). Ethnomethodologists prefer not to speak indiscriminately of the construction or manufacture of knowledge, in order to preserve an ‘indifferent’ orientation to the way distinctions between constructed and unconstructed realities are employed in practical action and situated argument.

2.2 Replication and the Reproduction of Social Structure

2.4 Normati
e and Ethical Considerations

It is well established in the sociology of science that replication is problematic. Instead of being a methodological foundation for establishing natural facts, particular instances of experimental replication often beg further questions about the detailed conditions and competencies they involve (Collins 1985). To say that replication is problematic does not imply that it is impossible, but it does raise the question of how scientists manage to secure assent to the adequacy of their experiments. The phenomenon of just how scientists conduct experiments, and how they establish particular results in the relevant communities, has become a major topic for socio-historians and ethnographers of science (Gooding et al. 1989). Consequently, in the more general case of the reproduction of social structure, it seems reasonable to conclude that Sacks identifies a topic for ethnomethodological research, but not a grounding for a possible sociological research program (Lynch and Bogen 1994). Ethnomethodological studies of the reproduction of order in science, other professions, and daily life, address the topic of the production of instructed actions. Instructed actions include an open-ended variety of actions performed in accordance with rules, plans, recipes, methods, programs, guidelines, maps, models, sets of instructions, and other formal structures. In addition to examining efforts to reproduce initial observations, ethnomethodologists have studied a series of topics: deriving mathematical proofs, following instructions for photocopying, and re-

Ethnomethodology has been criticized for treating normative aspects of the activities studied as ‘mere phenomena’ (Habermas 1984, p. 106). For example, when studying a contentious court case (Goodwin 1994) or jury deliberation (Maynard and Manzo 1993), an ethnomethodologist does not assess the discursive practices by reference to ideal standards of validity, rationality, or justice. This does not suppose that normative considerations are ‘mere’ phenomena. Instead, it supposes that peoples’ methods (the phenomena studied by ethnomethodologists) are just that: situated actions that, for better or worse, incorporate normative judgments and ethical claims. Instead of recasting such judgments and claims in terms of one or another transcendent framework, ethnomethodologists attempt to explicate the way normative judgments are produced, addressed, and fought over in specific circumstances. When ethnomethodologists investigate highly charged uses of, and appeals to, normative judgment, they enable readers to examine specific configurations of action and reasoning that do not neatly fall under recipe versions of norms and values. Consequently, rather than invoking or developing a normative theory, ethnomethodologists invite their readers to consider intricate situations of practice and contestation that no single general framework can possibly forecast or resolve. Practical and ethical dilemmas are no less salient for ethnomethodologiststhanforculturalanthropologists,

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Science and Technology Studies: Experts and Expertise lawyers, and other participant-investigators. The policy of ethnomethodological indifference does not relieve an investigator of ethical choices and responsibilities. Like other investigators, ethnomethodologists may in some circumstances find it advisable to respect norms of privacy and propriety, while in others they may feel compelled to expose wrongdoing. However, as a body of doctrines, research policies, and exemplary studies, ethnomethodology does not supply a set of rules or ethical guidelines for making such difficult choices. This does not mean that ethnomethodologists proceed without ethics, but that their ethical judgments, like many of their other judgments, have a basis in communal life that is not encapsulated by any academic school, theory, or method. See also: Ethnology; Ethnomethodology: General; Parsons, Talcott (1902–79); Reflexivity in Anthropology; Reflexivity: Method and Evidence

Bibliography Ashmore M 1989 The Reflexi
e Thesis: Wrighting the Sociology of Scientific Knowledge. University of Chicago Press, Chicago Bloor D 1976 Knowledge and Social Imagery. Routledge and Kegan Paul, London Button G (ed.) 1991 Ethnomethodology and the Human Sciences. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Button G, Sharrock W 1993 A disagreement over agreement and consensus in constructionist sociology. Journal of Theory Social Beha
iour 23: 1–25 Collins H M 1985 Changing Order: Replication and Induction in Scientific Practice. Sage, London Garfinkel H 1967 Studies in Ethnomethodology. Prentice Hall, Englewood Cliffs, NJ Garfinkel H 1974 On the origins of the term ‘ethnomethodology.’ In: Turner R (ed.) Ethnomethodology. Penguin, Harmondsworth, UK Garfinkel H (ed.) 1986 Ethnomethodological Studies of Work. Routledge and Kegan Paul, London Garfinkel H 1991 Respecification: Evidence for locally produced, naturally accountable phenomena of order, logic, reason, meaning, method, etc. in and as of the essential haecceity of immortal ordinary society (I)—an announcement of studies. In: Button G (ed.) Ethnomethodology and the Human Sciences. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Garfinkel H, Lynch M, Livingston E 1981 The work of a discovering science construed with materials from the optically discovered pulsar. Philosophy of the Social Sciences 11: 131–58 Garfinkel H, Sacks H 1970 On formal structures of practical actions. In: McKinney J C, Tiryakian E A (eds.) Theoretical Sociology: Perspecti
es and De
elopment. Appleton-CenturyCrofts, New York Gilbert G N, Mulkay M 1984 Opening Pandora’s Box: An Analysis of Scientists’ Discourse. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Gooding D, Pinch T, Schaffer S (eds.) 1989 The Uses of Experiment. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK

Goodwin C 1994 Professional vision. American Anthropologist 96: 606–33 Habermas J 1984 The Theory of Communicati
e Action. Volume I: Reason and the Rationalization of Society. Beacon Press, Boston Heritage J 1984 Garfinkel and Ethnomethodology. Polity Press, Oxford, UK Knorr K 1981 The Manufacture of Knowledge. Pergamon, Oxford, UK Latour B 1986 Will the last person to leave the social studies of science please turn on the tape recorder. Social Studies of Science 16: 541–8 Latour B, Woolgar S 1979 Laboratory Life: The Social Construction of Facts. Sage, London Livingston E 1986 The Ethnomethodological Foundations of Mathematics. Routledge and Kegan Paul, London Lynch M 1985 Art and Artifact in Laboratory Science. Routledge and Kegan Paul, London Lynch M 1993 Scientific Practice and Ordinary Action: Ethnomethodology and Social Studies of Science. Cambridge University Press, New York Lynch M, Bogen D 1994 Harvey Sacks’s primitive natural science. Theory, Culture and Society 11: 65–104 Maynard D, Manzo J 1993 On the sociology of justice: Theoretical notes from an actual jury deliberation. Sociological Theory 11: 171–93 Parsons T 1937 The Structure of Social Action. Free Press, New York, Vols. I & II Sacks H 1992 Lectures on Con
ersation. Blackwell, Oxford, UK, Vol. I Schutz A 1962 Collected Papers. Martinus Nijhoff, The Hague, Vol. I Sharrock W, Anderson B 1991 Epistemology: Professional scepticism. In: Button G (ed.) Ethnomethodology and the Human Sciences. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Suchman L 1987 Plans and Situated Actions. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Winch P 1990[1958] The Idea of a Social Science and its Relation to Philosophy, 2nd edn. Humanities Press, Atlantic Highlands, NJ Woolgar S 1981 Interests and explanations in the social study of science. Social Studies of Science 11: 365–94 Woolgar S 1998 Science: The Very Idea. Tavistock, London Zimmerman D H, Pollner M 1970 The everyday world as a phenomenon. In: Douglas J D (ed.) Understanding E
eryday Life: Toward the Reconstruction of Sociological Knowledge. Aldine, Chicago

M. Lynch

Science and Technology Studies: Experts and Expertise 1. Introduction Science is a social activity to construct, justify, and critique cognitive claims based on widely accepted methodologies and theories within relevant communi13647

Science and Technology Studies: Experts and Expertise ties. The term science is used here to include claims of true statements about any phenomenon, be it natural, anthropological, social, or even metaphysical. Methods or procedures are clearly distinct among the various domains of science, but the main assertion here is that the overall goal of claiming truthful statements remains the essence of scientific inquiry throughout all disciplines (similar attempts in Campbell 1921, pp. 27–30). Using scientific expertise, however, is not identical with generating scientific statements (Lindblom and Cohen 1979, p. 7ff.). In a policy arena, scientific experts are expected to use their skills and knowledge as a means of producing arguments and insights for identifying, selecting, and evaluating different courses of collective action. Since such advice includes the prediction of likely consequences of political actions in the future, experts are also in demand to give advice on how to cope with uncertain events and how to make a prudent selection among policy options, even if the policy-maker faces uncertain outcomes and heterogeneous preferences (Cadiou 2001, p. 27). Many policy-makers expect scientific experts to help construct strategies that promise to prevent or mitigate the negative and promote the positive impacts of collective actions. In addition, scientific expertise is demanded as an important input to design and facilitate communication among the different stakeholders in debates about technology and risk. Based on these expectations, scientific expertise can assist policy-makers to meet five major functions (similar in Renn 1995): (a) providing factual insights that help policymakers to identify and frame problems and to understand the situation (enlightenment function); (b) providing instrumental knowledge that allows policy-makers to assess and evaluate the likely consequences of each policy option ( pragmatic or instrumental function); (c) providing arguments, associations, and contextual knowledge that helps policy-makers to reflect on their situation and to improve and sharpen their judgment (reflexi
e function); (d) providing procedural knowledge that helps policy-makers to design and implement procedures for conflict resolution and rational decision making (catalytic function); and (e) providing guidelines or designing policy options that assist decision-makers in their effort to communicate with the various target audiences (communicati
e function). These five functions touch on crucial aspects of policy-makers’ needs. First, insights offered by experts help policy-makers to understand the issues and constraints of different policy options when designing and articulating policies. Policy-makers need background information to develop standards, to ground economic or environmental policies on factual knowledge, and to provide information about the success or 13648

failure of policies. Second, scientific methods and their applications are needed to construct instrumental knowledge in the format of ‘if–then’ statements and empirically tested theories; this knowledge leads to the articulation of means-ends oriented policies and problem solving activities. Third, scientific reasoning and understanding help policy-makers to reflect on their activities and to acknowledge social, cultural, institutional, and psychological constraints as well as opportunities that are not easily grasped by common sense or instrumental reasoning. However, scientific statements may also restrict policy-makers as they are directed towards adopting a single perspective in analyzing and framing a problem. Fourth, policymakers may use scientists to design procedures of policy formulation and decision making in accordance with normative rules of reasoning and fairness. These procedures should not interfere with the preferences of those who are involved in the decision-making process, but provide tools for making these preferences the guiding principle of policy selection. To meet this function, scientists need to play a role similar to a chemical catalyst by speeding up (or if necessary slowing down) a process of building consensus among those who are entitled to participate in the policymaking process (Fishkin 1991). Lastly, scientific experts can help to design appropriate communication programs for the purpose of legitimizing public policies as well as preparing target audiences for their specific function or role in the task of risk management. This article focuses predominantly on the influence of scientific and technical expertise, in particular the results of technology assessments, on public policymaking. The second section deals with the risks and challenges of technical experts providing input to policy design and implementation. The third section addresses the influence of systematic knowledge for policy-making. The fourth section provides some theoretical background for the role of expertise in deliberative processes. The fifth section focuses on cultural differences in the use of expertise for policymaking. The last section summarizes the main points of this article.

2. Using Scientific Expertise for Policy-making: Risks and Challenges The interaction between experts and policy-makers is a major issue in technology management today and is likely to become even more important in the future. This is due in the first instance to the increased interactions between human interventions and natural responses and, secondarily, to the increased complexity of the necessary knowledge for coping with economic, social, and environmental problems. Population growth and migration, global trade, inter-

Science and Technology Studies: Experts and Expertise national market structures, transboundary pollution, and many other conditions of modern life have increased the sensitivity to external disturbances and diminished the capability of social and natural systems to tolerate even small interventions. Although contested by some (Simon 1992), most analysts agree that ecological systems have become more vulnerable as the impact of human intervention has reached and exceeded thresholds of self-repair (Vitousek et al. 1986). Given this critical situation, what are the potential contributions of expertise to the policy process? In principle, experts can provide knowledge that can help to meet the five functions mentioned above and to anticipate potential risks before they materialize. But they can do this only to the degree that the state of the art in the respective field of knowledge can provide reliable information pertaining to the policy options. Many policy-makers share assumptions about expertise that turn out to be wishful thinking or illusions (Funtowicz and Ravetz 1990, Jasanoff 1990, 1991, Rip 1992, Beck 1992). Most prominent among these are: (a) illusion of certainty: making policy-makers more confident about knowing the future than is justified; (b) illusion of transferability: making policy-makers overconfident that certainty in one aspect of the problem applies to all other aspects as well; (c) illusion of ‘absolute’ truth: making policymakers overconfident with respect to the truthfulness of evidence; (d) illusion of ubiquitous applicability: making policy-makers overconfident in generalizing results from one context to another. These illusions are often reinforced by the experts themselves. Many experts feel honored to be asked by powerful agents of society for advice. Acting under the expectation of providing unbiased, comprehensive, and unambiguous advice, they often fall prey to the temptation to oversell their expertise and provide recommendations far beyond their realm of knowledge. This overconfidence in one’s own expertise gains further momentum if policy-maker and advisor share similar values or political orientations. As a result policy-makers and consultants are prone to cultivate these illusions and act upon them. In addition to these four types of illusions, experts and policy-makers tend to overemphasize the role of systematic knowledge in making decisions. As much as political instinct and common sense are poor guides for decision making without scientific expertise, the belief that scientific knowledge is sufficient to select the correct option is just as short sighted. Most policy questions involve both systematic as well as anecdotal and idiosyncratic knowledge (Wynne 1989). Systematic knowledge often provides little insight into designing policies for concrete issues. For example, planning highways, supporting special industries, promoting health care for a community and many other

issues demand local knowledge on the social context and the specific history of the issue within this context (Wynne 1992, Jasanoff 1991). Knowledge based on local perspectives can be provided only by those actors who share common experiences of the issue in question. The role of systematic versus particularistic knowledge is discussed in more detajobil in the next section.

3. The Rele
ance of Systematic Expertise for Policy-making There is little debate in the literature that the inclusion of expertise is essential as a major resource for designing and legitimizing technological policies (Jasanoff 1990). A major debate has evolved, however, on the status of scientific and technical expertise for representing all or most of the knowledge that is relevant to these policies. This debate includes two related controversies: the first deals with the problem of objectivity and realism; the second one with the role of subjective and experiential knowledge that nonexperts have accumulated over time. This is not the place to review these two controversies in detail (see Bradbury 1989, Shrader-Frechette 1991). Depending on which side one stands on in this debate, scientific evidence is either regarded as one input to fact-finding among others or as the central or even only legitimate input for providing and resolving knowledge claims. There is agreement, however, among all camps in this debate that systematic knowledge is instrumental for understanding phenomena and resolving problems. Most analysts also agree that systematic knowledge should be generated and evaluated according to the established rules or conventions of the respective discipline (Jaeger 1998, p. 145). Methodological rigor aiming to accomplish a high degree of validity, reliability and relevance remains the most important yardstick for judging the quality of scientific insights. Constructivist scholars in science and technology studies do not question the importance of methodological rules in securing credible knowledge but are skeptical whether the results of scientific inquiries represent objective or unambiguous descriptions of reality (Latour and Woolgar 1979, Knorr-Cetina 1981). Rather, they see scientific results as products of specific processes or routines that an elite group of knowledge producers has framed as ‘objective’ and ‘real.’ The ‘reality’ of these products is determined by the availability of research routines and instruments, prior knowledge and judgments, and social interests (see also Beck 1992, although he regards himself as a moderate realist). For the analysis of scientific input to policy-making, the divide between the constructivists and the realists matters only in the degree to which scientific input is used as a genuine knowledge base or as a final arbiter for reconciling knowledge conflicts. A knowledge 13649

Science and Technology Studies: Experts and Expertise discourse deals with different, sometimes competing claims that obtain validity only through compatibility checks with acknowledged procedures of data collection and interpretation, proof of theoretical compatibility and conclusiveness, and the provision of intersubjective opportunities for reproduction (Shrader-Frechette 1991, pp. 46ff.). Obviously many research results do not reach the maturity of proven facts, but even intermediary products of knowledge, ranging from plain hypotheses, via plausible deductions to empirically proven relationships, strive for further perfection (cf. the pedigree scheme of Functowicz and Ravetz 1990). On the other hand, even the most ardent proponent of a realist perspective will admit that only intermediary types of knowledge are often available when it comes to assess and evaluate risks. What does this mean for the status and function of scientific expertise in policy contexts? First, scientific input has become a major element of technological decision-making in all technologically developed countries. The degree to which the results of scientific inquiry are taken as ultimate evidence to judge the appropriateness and validity of competing knowledge claims is contested in the literature and also contested among policy-makers and different social groups. Frequently, the status of scientific evidence becomes one of the discussion points during social or political deliberation depending on the context and the maturity of scientific knowledge in the technological policy arena under question. For example, if the issue is the effect of a specific toxic substance on human health, subjective experience may serve as a heuristic tool for further inquiry and may call attention to deficits in existing knowledge, although toxicological and epidemiological investigations are unlikely to be replaced with intuitions from the general public. If the issue, by contrast, is siting of an incinerator, local knowledge about sensitive ecosystems or traffic flows may be more relevant than systematic knowledge about these impacts in general (a good example for the relevance of such particularistic knowledge can be found in Wynne 1989). Second, the resolution of competing claims of scientific knowledge usually are governed by the established rules within the relevant disciplines. These rules may not be perfect and even contested within the community. Yet they are regarded as superior to any other alternative (Shrader-Frechette 1991, pp. 190ff.). Third, many technological decision options require systematic knowledge that is either not available or still in its infancy or in an intermediary status. Analytic procedures are then demanded by policy-makers as a means to assess the relative validity of each of the intermediary knowledge claims, to display their underlying assumptions and problems, and to demarcate the limits of ‘reasonable’ claims, that is, to identify the range of those claims that are still compatible with the state of the art in this knowledge domain (Shrader-Frechette 1991). Fourth, knowledge 13650

claims can be systematic and scientific as well as idiosyncratic and anecdotal. Both forms of knowledge have a legitimate place in technological decisionmaking. How they are used depends on the context and the type of knowledge required for the issue in question (Wynne 1992). All four points show the importance of knowledge for technology policy and decision making, but also make clear that choosing the right management options requires more than looking at the scientific evidence alone.

4. Scientific E
idence in Deliberati
e Processes Given the delicate balance between anecdotal, experiential, and systematic knowledge claims, policymaking depends on deliberative processes in which competing claims are generated or ignored, sorted, selected, and highlighted. The first objective is to define the relevance of different knowledge claims for making legitimate and defendable choices. The second objective is to cope with issues of uncertainty and to assign trade-offs between those who will benefit and those who will suffer from different policy options. The third objective is to take into account the wider concerns of the affected groups and the public at large. These three elets of deliberation are related to coping with the problems of complexity, uncertainty, and ambiguity. How can deliberative processes deal with the problems of complexity, uncertainty, and ambiguity? To respond to this question, it is necessary to introduce the different theoretical concepts underlying deliberative processes. The potential of deliberation has been discussed primarily in three schools of thought: (a) The utility-based theory of rational action (basics in Fisher and Ury 1981, Raiffa 1994; review of pros and cons in Friedman 1995): in this concept, deliberation is framed as a process of finding one or more option(s) that optimize the payoffs to each participating stakeholder. The objective is to convert positions into statements of underlying interests. If all participants articulate their interest, it is either possible to find a new win-win option that is in the interest of all or at least does not violate anybody‘s interest (Pareto optimal solution) or to find a compensation that the winner pays to the losers to the effect that both sides are at least indifferent between the situation without the preferred policy option and no compensation and the implementation of this option plus compensation (Kaldor–Hicks solution). In this context systematic knowledge is required to inform all participants of the likely consequences of each decision option. The evaluation of desirability of each option is a matter of individual preferences and in this perspective outside of the deliberation process. (b) Theory of communicative action (Habermas 1987, Webler 1995): this concept focuses on the communicative process of generating preferences,

Science and Technology Studies: Experts and Expertise values, and normative standards. Normative standards are those prescriptions that do not apply only to the participants of the discourse but also to society as a whole or at least a large segment of the external population. Normative standards in technological arenas include, for example, exposure limits or performance standards for technologies. They apply to all potential emitters or users regardless whether they were represented at the discourse table or not. The objective here is to find consensus among moral agents (not just utility maximizers) about shared meaning of actions based on the knowledge about consequences and an agreement on basic human values and moral standards. Systematic knowledge in this context helps the participants to provide insights into the potential effects of collective decision options and help them to reorganize their preferences according to mutually desirable outcomes. (c) Theory of social systems (Luhmann 1986, Eder 1992): the (neo)functional school of sociology pursues a different approach to deliberation. It is based on the assumption that each stakeholder group has a separate reservoir of knowledge claims, values, and interpretative frames. Each group-specific reservoir is incompatible with the reservoir of the other groups. This implies that deliberative actions do not resolve anything. They represent autistic self-expressions of stakeholders. In its cynical and deconstructivist version, deliberation serves as an empty but important ritual to give all actors the illusion of taking part in the decision process. In its constructive version deliberation leads to the enlightenment of decision-makers and participants. Far from resolving or even reconciling conflicts, deliberation in this viewpoint has the potential to decrease the pressure of conflict, provide a platform for making and challenging claims, and assist policymakers in making them cognizant of different interpretative frames (Luhmann 1993). Deliberations help to reframe the decision context, to make policymakers aware of public demands, and enhance legitimacy of collective decisions through reliance on formal procedures (Skillington 1997). In this understanding of deliberation, reaching a consensual conclusion is neither necessary nor desirable. The process of talking to each other, exchanging arguments, and widening one‘s horizon is all what deliberation is able to accomplish. It is an experience of mutual learning without a substantive message. Systematic knowledge in this context is never free of context and prescriptive assumptions. Hence, each group will make knowledge claims according to its interests and strategic goals. Integration of knowledge is based on rhetoric, persuasion skills, and power rather than established rules of ‘discovering the truth.’ These three understandings of deliberation are not mutually exclusive although many proponents of each school argue otherwise. Based on the previous arguments, it is quite obvious that the rational actor approach provides a theoretical framework to under-

stand how actors in deliberative processes deal with complexity and partially uncertainty. The communicative action approach provides a theoretical structure for understanding and organizing discourses on ambiguities and moral positions. In particular, this concept can highlight those elements of deliberation that help participants to deal competently with moral and normative issues beyond personal interests. The system–analytic school introduces some skepticism towards the claim of the other schools with respect to the outcomes of deliberation. Instead it emphasizes the importance of procedures, routines, and learning experiences for creating links or networks between the major systems of society. Deliberation is the lubricant that helps each of the collective social actors to move mostly independently in society without bumping into the domains of the other actors. Deliberative processes aimed at integrating experts, stakeholders, policy-makers, and the public at large can be organized in many different forms. Practical experiences have been made with advisory committees, citizen panels, public forums, consensus conferences, formal hearings, and others (see Rowe and Frewer 2000). A hybrid model of citizen participation (Renn et al. 1993) has been applied to studies on energy policies and waste disposal issues in West Germany, for waste-disposal facilities in Switzerland, and to sludge-disposal strategies in the United States (Renn 1999).

5. Cultural Styles in Using Scientific Expertise The way that knowledge and expertise are included in policy processes depends on many factors. Comparative research on the influence of systematic knowledge in policy processes emphasizes the importance of cultural context and historic developments (Solingen 1993). In addition, state structures and institutional arrangements significantly influence the type of inclusion of expertise into the decision-making processes. There has been a major shift in modern states to an organized and institutionalized exchange of science organizations with policy-making bodies (Mukerji 1989, Jasanoff 1990). Although science has become a universal enterprise, the specific meaning of what science can offer to policy-makers differs among cultures and nations (Solingen 1993). The situation is even more diverse when one investigates the use of science in different countries for advising policymakers. Scientific and political organizations partially determine what aspects of life are framed as questions of knowledge and what of ‘‘subjective’’ values. In addition, national culture, political traditions, and social norms influence the mechanisms and institutions for integrating expertise in the policy arenas (Wynne 1992). In one line of work, policy scholars have developed a classification of governmental styles that highlight 13651

Science and Technology Studies: Experts and Expertise four different approaches to integrating expert knowledge into public decisions (Brickman et al. 1985, Jasanoff 1986, O’Riordan and Wynne 1987, Renn 1995). These styles have been labeled inconsistently in the literature, but they refer to common procedures in different nations. The ‘adversarial’ approach is characterized by an open forum in which different actors compete for social and political influence in the respective policy arena. The actors in such an arena need and use scientific evidence to support their position. Policy-makers pay specific attention to formal proofs of evidence because policy decisions can be challenged on the basis of insufficient use or neglect of scientific knowledge. Scientific advisory boards play an important role as they help policy-makers to evaluate competing claims of evidence and to justify the final policy selection (Jasanoff 1990). A sharp contrast to the adversarial approach is provided by the fiduciary style (Renn 1995). The decision-making process is confined to a group of patrons who are obliged to make the ‘common good’ the guiding principle of their action. Public scrutiny or involvement is alien to this approach. The public can provide input to and arguments for the patrons but is not allowed to be part of the negotiation or policy formulation process. Scientists outside the policymaking circles are used as consultants at the discretion of the patrons and are selected according to prestige or personal affiliations. Their role is to provide enlightenment and information. Patrons’ staff generate instrumental knowledge. This system relies on producing faith in the competence and the fairness of the patrons involved in the decision-making process. Two additional styles are similar in their structure but not identical. The consensual approach is based on a closed circle of influential actors who negotiate behind closed doors. Representatives of important social organizations or groups and scientists work together to reach a predefined goal. Controversy is not visible and conflicts are often reconciled before formal negotiations take place. The goal of the negotiation is to combine the best available evidence with the various social interests that the different actors represent. The corporatist style is similar to the consensual approach, but is far more formalized. Well-known experts are invited to join a group of carefully selected policymakers representing major forces in society (such as employers, unions, churches, professional associations, and environmentalists). Invited experts are asked to offer their professional judgment, but they often do not need to present formal evidence for their claims. This approach is based on trust in the expertise of scientists. These four styles are helpful in characterizing and analyzing different national approaches to policymaking. The American system is oriented toward the adversarial style and the Japanese system toward the consensual. The policy style of northern Europe comes closest to the corporatist approach, whereas most 13652

southern European countries display a fiduciary approach. All these systems, however, are in transition. Interestingly the United States has tried to incorporate more consensual policies into its adversarial system, while Japan is faced with increasing demands for more public involvement in the policy process. These movements towards hybrid systems have contributed to the genesis of a new regulatory style, which may be called ‘mediative.’ There has been a trend in all technologically developed societies to experiment with opening expert deliberations to more varied forms of stakeholder or public participation. In the United States, it has taken the form of negotiated or mediated rule making, in Europe it has evolved as an opening of corporatist clubs to new groups such as the environmental movement. It is too early to say whether this new style will lead to more convergence among the countries or to a new set of cultural differentiations (Renn 1995).

6. Conclusions The economic and political structures of modern societies underwent rapid transitions in the late twentieth century. This transition was accompanied by globalization of information, trade, and cultural lifestyles, an increased pluralism of positions, values, and claims, the erosion of trust and confidence in governing bodies, an increased public pressure for participation, and growing polarization between fundamentalist groups and agents of progressive change. The resulting conflicts put pressure on political systems to integrate different outlooks and visions of the future and to provide justifications of governmental decisions on the basis of both facts and values. In this situation, policy-making institutions discovered an urgent need for policy advice, as well as new modes of integrating expertise with values and preferences. Research on advisory processes indicates that the following points will need to be addressed. (a) Using scientific expertise in the policy arena is one element in the quest of modern societies to replace or amend the collective learning process of trial and error by more humane methods of anticipation, in which the possibility of errors is reduced. This process is socially desired, though it cannot reduce the uncertainties of change to zero. Anticipation both necessitates and places new demands on expertise in the service of policy-making. (b) Scientific expertise can serve five functions: enlightenment; pragmatic or instrumental; reflexive; catalytic; and communicative. All five are in demand by policy-makers, but expertise may also distort their perspective on the issue or prescribe a specific framing of the problem. That is why many policy analysts demand that scientific input be controlled by democratic institutions and be open to public scrutiny. (c) Scientific expertise is also used for legitimizing

Science and Technology Studies: Experts and Expertise decisions and justifying policies that may face resistance or opposition. Expertise can, therefore, conflict with public preferences or interests. In addition, policy-makers and experts pursue different goals and priorities. Expertise should be regarded as one crucial element of policy-making among others. Scientific advice is often mandated by law, but its potential contributions may vary from one policy arena to another. In particular, scientific expertise cannot replace public input in the form of locally relevant knowledge, historical insights, and social values. (d) The influence of expertise depends on the cultural meaning of expertise in different social and political arenas. If systematic expertise is regarded as the outcome of a socially constructed knowledge system, its authority can be trumped by processes that are seen to be more democratic. If, however, systematic expertise is seen as an approximation of reality or truth, it gains a privileged status among different sources of knowledge and inputs, even if it is the product of a democratically imperfect process. The degree to which these different understandings of expertise are accepted or acknowledged within a political arena will affect the practical influence and power of experts in collective decision-making. (e) Scientific expertise is absorbed and utilized by the various policy systems in different styles. One can distinguish four styles: adversarial, fiduciary, consensual, and corporatist. A new mediative style seems to be evolving from the transitions toward more open procedures in decision-making. This style seems to be specifically adjusted to postmodern societies. Scientific expertise in this style pursues a ‘system and problem oriented’ approach to policy-making, in which science, politics, and economics are linked by strategic networks. (f ) Organizing and structuring discourses on the selection of policy options is essential for the democratic, fair, and competent management of public affairs. The mere desire to initiate a two-way-communication process and the willingness to listen to public concerns are not sufficient. Deliberative processes are based on a structure that assures the integration of technical expertise, regulatory requirements, and public values. Co-operative discourse is one model among others that has been designed to meet that challenge. No one questions the need to initiate a common discourse or dialogue among experts, policy-makers, stakeholders and representatives of affected publics. This is particularly necessary if highly controversial subjects are at stake. The main challenge of deliberative processes will continue to be how to integrate scientific expertise, rational decision-making, and public values in a coherent form. See also: Expert Systems in Cognitive Science; Expert Testimony; Expert Witness and the Legal System: Psychological Aspects; Expertise, Acquisition of;

Medical Expertise, Cognitive Psychology of; Policy History: Origins; Policy Knowledge: Universities; Policy Networks

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O. Renn

Science and the Media The phrase ‘science and the media’ as a single concept encompasses two major social institutions. Science is both a system of reliable knowledge about the natural world and a complex social system for developing and maintaining that knowledge. Similarly, the media comprise a variegated system for collecting and presenting information as well as being an institution with significant economic, political, and social impact. Though long perceived as separate realms, recent scholarship has highlighted their mutual dependence. Increasing episodes of tension and conflict in the late twentieth century led scholars, scientists, media producers, and social critics to explore the interactions of science and the media. Working scientists and media producers sought guidance on how to use each others’ resources more effectively, while analysts asked how such issues as political and economic interests, rhe13654

torical conventions, and audience responses shed light on the roles of science and media in shaping each other. One effect of recent scholarship has been to elide the difference between ‘media’ (all forms of media) and ‘the media’ (particularly the major institutions of newspapers, magazines, television, and radio), an elision that will be evident throughout this article.

1. Science and the Media: A Brief History The history of science and the media is the history of a growing mesh: increasing use of media by science, increasing attention to scientific ideas by media institutions, and increasing tensions caused by the rising interaction. Through the middle of the twentieth century, science and media were largely seen as separate realms. Science had emerged in the nineteenth century from natural philosophy as a systematic approach to understanding the natural world. With the advent of research-based industries such as chemical dyes and electronic communication, science began to attract the attention of capitalists and government leaders who understood the value of controlling scientific knowledge. By the end of World War II, the emergence of ‘big science’ had made science a powerful institutional force as well as a system of accredited knowledge with increasingly far-reaching applications. The media had also evolved in the nineteenth century from small, local organizations into nationally and internationally-circulated publications that served as tools of merchant capitalism and political control, full of advertising, business and political news, and the ideology of the industrial revolution. By the early twentieth century, new electronic media such as movies and radio provided the means for newly-developed forms of ‘publicity’ and propaganda to help produce modern mass society, as well as to increase public access to new forms of cultural entertainment. Since the late seventeenth century, natural philosophers had relied on print media, particularly professional journals such as the Philosophical Transactions and books such as Isaac Newton’s Principia, as tools for disseminating the results of their investigations. These publications were not only records of experiments or philosophical investigations, but also served as active carriers of the rhetorical structures that enabled natural philosophers to convince people outside their immediate vicinity of the truth of their claims (Shapin and Schaffer 1985). Early in the nineteenth century, new forms of science media emerged, particularly a genre known variously as ‘popularization,’
ulgarisation [French], or di
ulgacion [Spanish]. These books and magazines provided entre! e into the knowledge of the natural world for non-scientist readers. They ranged from textbooks for young women through to new mass-circulation magazines filled with instruction on the latest achievements

Science and the Media of a rapidly industrializing society. The so-called ‘great men’ of late nineteenth century England (most notably Thomas Huxley and John Tyndall) became evangelists for science, lecturing widely to enlist public support for the enterprise of rational understanding of the natural world; they converted their lectures into articles and books to spread their reach even further. At the same time, scientists’ use of media for disseminating knowledge among the scientific community grew dramatically, with the growth of new journals and the founding of publishing houses committed to scientific information. The growth of both science and media in the twentieth century forced specialization into the fields, leading to a distinction between what some scientists have called ‘communication in science’ and ‘communication about science.’ For scientists in their daily work, broad synthetic journals such as Science and Nature (published respectively in the USA and the UK) were joined by topical journals in chemistry, physics, biology, and their many sub-disciplines. For non-scientists, magazines and other media (such as radio and new ‘wire services’ for newspapers) increasingly focused on particular audiences, such as teachers, inventors, ‘high culture’ readers, general media users, and so on. Although scientific ideas appeared in some entertainment media, science in most non-technical media became a component of news coverage for different audiences. In the 1920s and 1930s, a small group of professional journalists began to write almost exclusively about science. (These developments were clearest in the highly developed countries of Europe and North America. The patterns in the rest of the world have been little studied and so cannot be described.) By the second half of the twentieth century, the interaction of science and media had become a complex web, in which new scientific research appeared in abstracts, journals, press reports, and online, while other forms of science–not necessarily derivative of the research reports–appeared regularly in media outlets such as newspapers, televisions, websites, radio programs, puppet shows, traveling circuses, and museums. Moreover, as science became central to modern culture, the presence of science in media such as poetry, sculpture, fine art, entertainment films, and so on, became more evident. In the journalistic media, many reports circulated internationally, through cooperative agreements between public broadcasting systems and worldwide news services. The rise of the World Wide Web in the 1990s provided further opportunities for information about science to circulate more fully between the developed and developing world. However, from about the mid-century onward, no matter what media were involved, many working scientists perceived presentations in non-technical media to be incorrect, oversimplified, or sensationalized. Thus, tensions developed between the institu-

tions of science and those of the media. Those tensions led eventually to the development of an analytic field of science and media, populated largely by media sociologists, communication content scholars, and sociologists of science.

2. Understanding Science and Media Analysis of science and media has led to a deeper understanding of the essential role of media in creating scientific knowledge, the ways that media presentations shape understandings of nature, and the role of public debate in constituting scientific issues. The earliest attempts to understand the relationship of science and media came from two directions: the overwhelming growth of scientific information, leading to attempts by scientists and scientific institutions to learn how to manage scientific publications, and emerging tensions between scientists and journalists, as specialized reporting developed in the 1930s. Research and publications before and after World War II led by the 1970s to two common understandings. First, sociologists of science had come to understand the fundamental role of communication in the production of reliable knowledge about the natural world. Scientists do not work in isolation, but must constantly present their ideas to colleagues for acknowledgement, testing, modification, and approbation. The process of communication, occurring in various media, is the ‘essence of science’ (Garvey 1979), leading to science becoming ‘public knowledge’ (Ziman 1968). At the same time, the apparent differences between the goals of science (methodical, tentative, but nonetheless relatively certain statements about the natural world) and the needs of public media (rapid, attention-getting narratives about issues directly related to readers and viewers, regardless of certainty) had also been explicated (Krieghbaum 1967), leading to practical attempts to ‘bridge the gap’ between science and the media but also to recurring fears that the gap was unbridgeable. Beginning in the 1970s, new developments in the sociology of scientific knowledge opened up new ways of conceiving of the relationship between science and media (Barnes 1974, Latour and Woolgar 1979). In particular, attention to the rhetorical goals of scientists in their use of media suggested that a distinction between communication in science and communication about science could not be maintained. Instead, some researchers began to discuss the ‘expository’ nature of science, showing how scientists tailored their communication to meet the needs of specific media and specific communication contexts (Bazerman 1988, Shinn and Whitley 1985). These researchers highlighted the interaction of the idealized intellectual goals of science (for the production of reliable knowledge about the natural world) with the social and institutional goals of scientists and their employers or 13655

Science and the Media patrons (for priority, status in the community, ownership of ideas and thus patents, and so on). In this conception of science and media, scientific knowledge itself might differ in different presentations—in some cases, appearing as a ‘narrative of science’ (focusing on the methodological and theoretical structures leading to particular knowledge of the natural world), in other cases as a ‘narrative of nature’ (focusing on the relationships between organisms or entities, with emphasis on the ‘story’ linking different aspects of those organisms and entities) (Myers 1990). The very boundary between ‘science’ and ‘non-science’ (or ‘mere’ popularization), between communication in science and communication about science, was shown to be highly mutable, itself an object of rhetorical construction used for political purposes by participants in scientific controversies to establish control over elements of a debate (Hilgartner 1990). A second new line of inquiry highlighted the institutional interdependence of science and the media. Pointing to the growing post-World War II need for scientific institutions to generate public and political support, and to the media’s need to draw on scientific developments for constant infusions of drama and ‘newness,’ the new research identified ‘selling science’ as a major element of the political economy linking science and the media (Nelkin 1987). Finally, work on the images of science that appeared over time helped show the ways that social concerns interacted with scientific developments to create cultural representations of science (Weart 1988, LaFollette 1990, Nelkin and Lindee 1995). At the same time that these developments were occurring in the understanding of science communication, new approaches were developing in understanding the relationship between science and the public. Spurred by concerns in the scientific community about lack of ‘scientific literacy,’ the studies ultimately questioned the idea that the public has a ‘deficit’ of knowledge that needs to be ‘improved’ (Irwin and Wynne 1996). Instead, the new approach focused on the possibility of engaging the public in discussions about scientific issues, recognizing the contingent nature of understanding of scientific issues and thus the alternative meanings that might emerge in democratic discussions instead of authoritarian pronouncements (Sclove 1995). Much of the new work looked at issues of uncertainty and risk, highlighting the social negotiations required to make personal and policy decisions in a context of incomplete information (Friedman et al. 1999). The new work clearly implied that science and the media cannot be perceived as separate institutions with separate goals. Instead, better understanding comes from analyzing science and media across audiences, looking at the political and economic interests of media producers, at the rhetorical meanings of media conventions, and at the audience responses to media content (especially in terms of meaning-making). 13656

3. Approaches to Studying Science and Media 3.1 Political and Economic Interests of Media Producers The most detailed and well-developed understandings of science and the media point to the political and economic interests that motivate the producers of media representations of science. In many countries, the media depend on government subsidies or at least on political tolerance. Moreover, media are expensive to produce. While the presence of the media in democratic societies is often seen as fundamental to political liberty, the economic need to appeal to broad audiences (even for government-controlled media) often leads to editorial decisions that emphasize broad coverage and sensationalism over depth and sobriety. Science media are no different, and even the most prestigious scientific journals such as Science and Nature have been criticized for highlighting the most ‘newsworthy’ research, for hyping scientific reports beyond their value, for engaging in ‘selling science.’ Newspaper and television coverage of science is routinely criticized for its sensationalism, particularly in the coverage of controversial issues such as food contamination (e.g., the BSE or ‘mad cow’ epidemic in Britain in the 1980s and 1990s), genetic modification of food, and global climate change. Journalists (and their employers) routinely defend their practices on the basis of ‘what readers\viewers want,’ which is often judged by sales success. Entertainment media are criticized even more heavily for creating movie plots that involve impossible science or focus on highly unlikely scenarios; producers disclaim any responsibility for accuracy, claiming only to be providing (profitable) escapism. These recurring disputes between the scientific community and media producers highlight the irreconcilable tension between the goals of science and the goals of the media.

3.2 Rhetorical Meanings of Media Con
entions An emerging area of understanding is the way that media conventions shape the rhetorical meaning of science communication. Scientific papers reporting original experimental research, for example, have developed a standardized format (called ‘IMRAD,’ for introduction, methods, results, analysis, discussion). The IMRAD format, conventionally written in an impersonal tone, with passive grammatical constructions, hides the presence of the researcher in the research, highlighting the objective character of scientific knowledge that is claimed to exist independently of its observer. In journalistic reports of scientific controversies, the conventions of objective reporting require ‘balance’—the presentation of both sides of a controversy (Bazerman 1988). Though 99.9 percent of all researchers may hold that a new claim

Science and the State (such as the eventually discredited 1989 announcement of a new form of ‘cold nuclear fusion’) is scientifically untenable, the journalistic norm of balance may lead to approximately equal attention to all claims. Similarly, journalistic goals of story telling often lead to emphasis on the human, narrative dimensions of an issue over the theoretical or mathematical components of the science. New research is exploring the meaning of visual representations of science, at every level from the technical outputs of genome analyzers to mass media manipulations of false-color images produced by orbiting astronomical telescopes (Lynch and Woolgar 1990).

3.3 Audience Responses to Media Content One of the most difficult areas to investigate is the audience response to particular media presentations. Virtually no work, for example, has been done on how scientists respond to specialized science media, despite anecdotal stories suggesting that changes in information presentation (such as World Wide Web access to scientific databases) may have dramatic impacts on how scientists conceive of the natural world and frame their hypotheses and theories. Some work has been done at broader public levels, such as responses to media presentations of risk information. But, although the psychology of risk perceptions, for example, has been extensively investigated, the factors affecting individual responses to media coverage of specific risky incidents are so varied as to defy measurement. Though the complexity leads some researchers to reject the possibility of quantitative analysis, others insist that social scientists can learn to isolate appropriate variables. Certainly some areas of audience response could be investigated more carefully; audience reaction to images of science in entertainment films, for example, has never been systematically tested, despite frequent statements that ‘the image of scientists in the movies is bad.’ The shift away from separate analysis of ‘science’ and ‘media’ to an integrated understanding of ‘science and media’ has led in recent years to the possibility of cross-cutting analyses, such as those of producers, rhetorical structures, and audience reception. These analyses will ultimately yield a much richer understanding of the interaction of science and media. Less clear is how such improved understanding will contribute to the practical concerns of those in the scientific community and elsewhere, who worry about possible linkages among science literacy, the image of science, and public support for science. See also: Educational Media; Genetics and the Media; Media and Child Development; Media and History: Cultural Concerns; Media Ethics; Media Events; Media, Uses of; Public Broadcasting; Public Relations in Media; Research Publication: Ethical Aspects

Bibliography Barnes B 1974 Scientific Knowledge and Sociological Theory. Routledge and Kegan Paul, London Bazerman C 1988 Shaping Written Knowledge: The Genre and Acti
ity of the Experimental Article in Science. University of Wisconsin Press, Madison, WI Friedman S M, Dunwoody S, Rogers C L (eds.) 1999 Communicating Uncertainty: Media Co
erage of New and Contro
ersial Science. Erlbaum Associates, Mahway, NJ Garvey W D 1979 Communication: The Essence of Science–Facilitating Information Exchange Among Librarians, Scientists, Engineers and Students. Pergamon Press, New York Hilgartner S 1990 The dominant view of popularization: conceptual problems, political uses. Social Studies of Science 20(3): 519–39 Irwin A, Wynne B (eds.) 1996 Misunderstanding Science? The Public Reconstruction of Science and Technology. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK Krieghbaum H 1967 Science and the Mass Media. New York University Press, New York LaFollette M 1990 Making Science Our Own: Public Images of Science, 1910–1955. University of Chicago Press, Chicago Latour B, Woolgar S 1979 Laboratory Life. Sage, Beverly Hills, CA Lynch M, Woolgar S 1990 Representation in Scientific Practice. MIT Press, Cambridge, MA Myers G 1990 Writing Biology: Texts in the Social Construction of Scientific Knowledge. University of Wisconsin Press, Madison, WI Nelkin D 1987 Selling Science: How the Press Co
ers Science and Technology. Freeman, New York Nelkin D, Lindee M S 1995 The DNA Mystique: The Gene as a Cultural Icon. Freeman, New York Sclove R 1995 Democracy and Technology. Guilford, New York Shapin S, Schaffer S 1985 Le
iathan and the Air-pump: Hobbes, Boyle, and the Experimental Life. Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ Shinn T, Whitley R (eds.) 1985 Expository Science: Forms and Functions of Popularisation D Reidel, Dordrecht, The Netherlands, Vol. 9 Weart S 1988 Nuclear Fear: A History of Images. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA Ziman J M 1968 Public Knowledge: An Essay Concerning the Social Dimension of Science. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK

B. V. Lewenstein

Science and the State 1. Introduction Since the sixteenth century, the ‘scientific revolution’ has generated a host of new, intellectual, rhetorical, and institutional strategies for undermining traditional political authorities and constructing alternative ones. Science became a vital resource in the modern attempt to discredit traditional political hierarchies and spiritual transcendental sources of authority in 13657

Science and the State the context of public affairs. By providing new rationales for order compatible with the novel modern commitments to the values of individualism, voluntarism, and egalitarianism, science and technology paradoxically also provided new grounds for novel modern forms of hierarchy and authority committed to the use of knowledge in the reconstruction of society. The widely shared notion that science goes along with progress appeared to suggest that knowledge, when applied to public affairs, can in fact depoliticize public discourse and action. This faith produced wide mandates for large-scale social and political engineering and monumental state-sponsored technological projects in both authoritarian and democratic states. While such ideals and projects were from the very beginning criticized by observers such as Edmund Burke (1729–97), throughout the twentieth century the record of the relations between science and politics turned out to be sufficiently mixed to discard earlier hopes. The controversial role of scientists in the production and military deployment of means of mass destruction, the role of scientists in the Nazi experiments on human beings and the endorsement of racism, and their involvement in the industrial pollution of the environment, diminished the public trust in science fostered by such developments as medical breakthroughs and spectacular space flights. Since the closing decades of the twentieth century, an increasing number of social scientists and historians have been pointing out that new uncertainties in the sphere of politics have been converging with newly recognized uncertainties of science and risks of technology to form novel postmodern configurations of state, science, and society (Eisenstadt 1999, Beck 1992). It has become increasingly recognized that, in ethnically and religiously heterogeneous and multicultural societies, science and technology can no longer be attached to uncontroversial comprehensive values that privilege claims of neutrality, objectivity, and rationality; nor can the earlier belief that knowledge can depoliticize public discourse and action be sustained any longer.

2. The Authorities of Science and the State The belief that science can provide a secular version of the synoptic divine view of human affairs was politically most significant. Until its erosion towards the end of the twentieth century, the modernist configuration of science and the state was formed over the course of at least four centuries. The secularization of political power in the modern state has put the dilemma of arbitrary rule at the center of modern political theory and practice. Whereas legal and constitutional constraints appeared to be the most appropriate remedy to this problem, the rise of modern 13658

science and technology encouraged faith in the possibility of restraint and moderation through public enlightenment and by means of scientific and technical advice. Not surprisingly, the redemptive drive behind the integration of science and politics had its origins in premodern religious visions and values (Manuel 1974). In both its authoritarian and democratic versions, this modernist program rested on the belief that the modern state can remedy the defects of the present sociopolitical order and realize an ideal order. Science contributed to this modernist outlook the faith in the power of secular knowledge to control nature and reconstruct society. In his dedication to Lorenzo di Medici of Florence in The Prince (1513), Niccolo Machiavelli implies that the holder of the God’s-eye view of the entire state is neither the King, who looks down at the people from the top of the hierarchy, nor the people, who see the King at the top from their lower state. It is a person like himself, a man of knowledge. The King, to be sure, has knowledge of the people, and the people have knowledge of the King but, because of his intellectual perspective, ‘a man of humble and obscure condition’ like Machiavelli can claim to see both the King and his subjects and understand the nature of their interactions. Political theory and political science thus claimed to have inherited the God’s-eye view of the whole polity and evolved a secular vision of the state as an object of knowledge. In turn, the nation-state has often found it useful to adopt the frame, if not always the content, of the inclusive scientific outlook in order to legitimate its interventions in the name of the general common good and its expressions in public goals such as security, health, and economic welfare. If, from the inclusive perspective of the state, all citizens, social groups, or institutions appeared as parts which the supreme power had the capacity to fit together or harmonize, science in its various forms often provided the technical means to rationalize, and the rhetorical strategies to depoliticize, such applications of power. The potential of science not only as a source of knowledge but also as a politically useable authority was already recognized by Thomas Hobbes. This founder of modern political theory was in contact with Francis Bacon, admired William Harvey’s findings about the circulation of the blood, and criticized Robert Boyle’s position on the vacuum (Shapin and Schaffer 1985). In his influential works on the state, Hobbes tried to buttress his claims by appealing to the authority of scientific, especially mathematical, certainties, hoping to enlist the special force of a language, which claims to generate proofs as distinct from mere opinions (Skinner 1996). Although he was suspicious of the experimental science of Boyle, Hobbes followed Machiavelli in describing politics in the language of causes rather than motives. Thomas Sprat, the historian of the Royal Society (1667), claimed that when compared to the contentious languages of religions, the temperate discourse of science can advance con-

Science and the State sensus across diverse social groups. In both the experimental and mathematical scientific traditions, however, knowledge, whether based on inferences or observations (or on their combination), was expected to end disputes. The association between science and consensus was regarded as deeply significant in a society which had begun to view authority and order as constructed from the bottom up rather than coming from above (Dumont 1986). Reinforced by the growing image of science as a cooperative, nonhierarchical, and international enterprise in which free individuals come to uncoerced agreements on the nature of the universe, scientific modes of reasoning and thinking appeared to suggest a model for evolving discipline and order among equals (Polanyi 1958, 1962). Deeply compatible with the notion that legitimate power and authority are constituted by social contracts, the rise of modern scientific knowledge appeared to accompany and reinforce the rise of the modern individual and his or her ability to challenge hierarchical forms of knowledge and politics. From Hobbes and Descarte, through Kant, J. S. Mill, and late-modern democratic thinkers such as Popper, Dewey, and Habermas, the commitment to the centrality of individual agency becomes inseparable from a growing faith in the possibility of expanding public enlightenment backed up by the demonstrated success of scientific modes of reasoning and acting.

3. Power and the Social Sciences In succeeding centuries, one of the most persistent ambitions of Western society has been to make conclusions touching the ‘things’ of society, law, and politics appear as compelling and impervious to the fluctuations of mere opinion as conclusions touching the operation of heaven and earth. The faith that natural scientists are bound by the ‘plain’ language of numbers to speak with an authority which cannot be corrupted by fragile human judgment was gradually extended to the fields of engineering and the social sciences (Porter 1986). The notion that experts who are disciplined by respect for objective facts are a symbol of integrity and can therefore serve as guardians of public virtues against the villains of politics and business was widely interpreted to include, beyond natural scientists, other categories of experts who speak the language of numbers. Social science disciplines like economics, social statistics, sociology, political science, and psychology adopted modes of observing, inferring, and arguing which appeared to deploy in the sphere of social experience notions of objective facts and discernible laws similar to those that the natural sciences had developed in relation to physical nature. The social sciences discovered that the language of quantification is not only a powerful tool in the production of knowledge of society but also a

valuable political and bureaucratic resource for depersonalizing, and thus legitimizing, the exercise of power (Porter 1995). In the context of social and political life the separation, facilitated by expert languages, between facts and values, causal chains and motives, appeared profoundly consequential. Until effectively challenged, mostly since the 1960s, such scientific and technical orientations to human affairs appeared to produce the belief that economic, social, political, and even moral ‘facts’ can be used to distinguish subjective or partisan from professional and apolitical arguments or actions. The apparent authority of science in the social and political context motivated the principal founders of modern ideologies like socialism, fascism, and liberalism to enlist science to their views of history, society, and the future. While theoretical and mathematified scientific knowledge remained esoteric, as religious knowledge was for centuries in the premodern state, the ethos of general enlightenment and the conception of scientific knowledge as essentially public made scientific claims appear agreeable to democratic publics even when these claims remained, in fact, elusive and removed from their understanding. In fields such as physics, chemistry, and medicine, machines, instruments, and drugs could often validate in the eyes of the lay public claims of knowledge which theories alone could not substantiate. The belief that science depoliticizes the grounds of state policies and actions, and subordinates them to objective and, at least in the eyes of some, transparent, professional standards, has been highly consequential for the uses of science in the modern state. Political leaders and public servants discovered that the appearance of transparency and objectivity can make even centralized political power seem publicly accountable (Price 1965, Ezrahi 1990). Moreover, the realization that the authority of science could in various contexts be detached from substantive scientific knowledge and deployed without the latter’s constraint often enhanced the political usefulness of both natural and social scientists independently of the value actually accorded to their professional judgments. Still, the uses of expert scientific authority in the legitimization of state politics and programs has often empowered scientists to actually exercise influence on the substance of government actions or to effectively criticize them from institutional bases outside the government (Jasanoff 1990). The actual uses of scientific expertise could often be just the consequence of a political demand for expert authority.

4. Science in Democratic and Authoritarian States In democratic societies, the integration of scientific authority, and sometimes also of scientific knowledge and technology, into the operations of the modern 13659

Science and the State state encouraged the development of a scientifically informed public criticism of the government. This process was greatly augmented by the rise of the modern mass media and the ability of scientists to call public attention to governmental failures traceable to nonuse or misuse of scientific expertise. The role of scientists in empowering public criticism of the uses of nuclear weapons and nuclear energy (Balough 1991), in grounding public criticism of the operation of such agencies as the National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) and the Food and Drugs Administration (FDA), and in the criticism of public and private agencies for polluting the environment, illustrates the point. In authoritarian states like the Soviet Union, such cooperation between scientists, the mass media, and the public in criticizing government policies and actually holding the government accountable was, of course, usually repressed. In the authoritarian modernist version of science and the state, science was used mostly to justify, and partly to direct, comprehensive planning and control. Here, the force of scientific knowledge and authority rarely constrained the rationalization of centralization or warranted public skepticism towards the government or criticism of its actions (Scott 1998). Even in democratic states, however, science and technology were massively used to promote the goals of reconstruction, coordination, mass production, and uniformity. The redemptive role assumed by the political leadership in the name of equality, public welfare, and uniformity was no less effective in rationalizing state interventions than the totalistic utopianism enlisted to justify the direction and manipulation of society in authoritarian regimes. In all the variants of the modern state, bodies of expert knowledge such as statistics, demography, geography, macroeconomics, city planning, public medicine, mental health, applied physics, psychology, geology, and others were used to rationalize the creation of government organizations and semipublic regulatory bodies which had the mandate to shift at least part of the discretion held formerly by political, legal, and bureaucratic agents to experts (Price 1965, Wagner et al. 1991). In many democratic states, the receptiveness to experts within the state bureaucracy was manifest in the introduction of merit-based, selective, personnel recruitment procedures and a widening use of examinations. The cases of the former USSR and Communist China suggest, by contrast, the ease with which experts and their expertise could be controlled by political loyalists. Even where it was facilitated, however, the welding of bureaucrats and professionals was bound to be conflict-ridden. The hierarchical authority structure of bureaucratic organizations has inevitably come to both challenge and be challenged by the more horizontal structure of professional peer controls (Wilson 1989, Larson 1977). Nevertheless, the professionalization of fields of public policy and 13660

regulation boosted the deployment of more strictly instrumental frames of public actions in large areas. The synoptic gazes of power and science could thus converge in supporting such projects as holistic social engineering, city planning, and industrial scientific agriculture (Scott 1998).

5. Science, War, and Politics The most dramatic and consequential collaboration between science and the modern state took place during wars. Such collaboration was usually facilitated by the atmosphere of general mobilization, defining the war effort as the top goal of the nation. In a state of emergency, even democratic states have suspended, or at least limited, the competitive political process. Under such conditions, democracies have temporarily, albeit voluntarily, experienced the usual conditions of the authoritarian state: centralized command and control and a nationally coordinated effort. In the aftermath of such wars, politicians and experts often tried to persist in perpetuating the optimal conditions of their collaboration, regarding the resumption of usual political processes as disruptive of orderly rational procedures. In authoritarian nationalist or socialist states, open competitive politics was repressed as a matter of routine along with the freedom of scientific research, and the liberty of scientists to diffuse their findings and interpret them to students and the public at large (Mosse 1966). In such countries, the political elite usually faced the dilemma of how to exploit the resources of science for the war effort and for advancing its domestic goals without becoming vulnerable to the revolutionary potential of science as the expression of free reason, criticism, and what Robert K. Merton called ‘organized skepticism’ (1973). In the democratic state, the special affinities between the participatory ethos of citizens, free to judge and evaluate their government, and the values of scientific knowledge and criticism did not usually allow the coherences and the clarities of the war period to survive for long, and the relations between science and the state had to readjust to conditions of open political contests and the tensions between scientific advice to, or scientific criticism of, the state. Limitations imposed by open political contests were mitigated, however, in political cultures which encouraged citizens to evaluate and judge the government with reference to the adequacy of its performance in promoting public goals. The links between instrumental success and political legitimation preserved in such contexts the value of the interplay between expert advice to the government and to its public critics in the dynamic making of public policy and the construction of political authority. Political motives for appealing to the authority of science could of course be compatible with the readiness to ignore knowledge and

Science and the State adequate performance, although it did not need to contradict the willingness to actually use scientific knowledge to improve performance. Discrepancies between the uses of scientific authority and scientific knowledge became widespread, however, because of the growing gaps between the timeframes of science and politics in democratic societies. In fields such as public health, economic development, security, and general welfare, instrumentally effective policies and programs must usually be measured over a period of years, and sometimes even decades. But the politicians whose status has come to be mediated by the modern mass media need to demonstrate their achievements within the timeframe of months or even days or weeks. In contemporary politics, one month is a long time, and the life expectancy of issues on the public agenda is usually much shorter. Such a state of affairs means that political actors often lack the political incentives to invest in the costly resources that are required for instrumental success whose payoffs are likely to appear only during the incumbency of their political successors.

6. Science and the Transformation of the Modern Democratic State These conditions have encouraged leaders in democratic states increasingly to replace policy decisions and elaborate programs with grand political gestures (Ezrahi 1990). Where instant rewards can be obtained by well-advertised commitment to a particular goal or policy, the political motive to invest in substantive moves to change reality and improve governmental performance over the longer run may easily decline. Besides the tendency of democratic politics to privilege the present over the future in the allocation of public resources, the position of science in substantiating long-term instrumental approach to public policy was further destabilized by the fragmentation of the normative mandates of state policies. Roughly since the 1960s, the publics of most Western democracies have become increasingly aware of the inherent constraints on the determination and ordering of values for the purpose of guiding public choices. Besides the influence of ethnic, religious, linguistic, or cultural differences on this process, such developments as the feminist movement reflect even deeper pressures to reorder basic values. Feminist spokespersons demanded, for example, that financial and scientific resources directed to control diseases be redistributed to redress gender discrimination against the treatment of specifically female diseases. In part, the feminist critique has been but one aspect of wider processes of individuation, which, towards the later part of the twentieth century, have increased the diversity of identities, tastes, lifestyles, and patterns of association in modern societies. This new pluralism implied the necessity of

continually renegotiating the uses of science and technology in the social context and locally adapting it to the diverse balances of values and interests in different communities. In the course of the twentieth century, leading scientific voices like J. B. S. Haldane, J. B. Bernal, and Jacques Monod tended to treat almost any resistance to the application of advanced scientific knowledge in human affairs as an ‘abuse of science’ resulting f