Getting a bit phronetic

I’m giving a paper in a little under two weeks at the Royal Geographical Society (RGS) conference in Manchester as part of a session I’m co-organising that’s rather grandly entitled ‘Innovating methodological approaches to pro-environmental behaviour’ or some such. Now, it was back in November/December 2008 that I dreamed up my abstract for this session. I’d recently read Bent Flyvbjerg’s book ‘Making Social Science Matter’ (2001, C.U.P.) and was so interested in the approach he was advocating that I thought I’d try and put a paper together on it. I’d just finished my PhD when I read the book, and really felt that Flyvbjerg explained a lot of the things I’d been trying to do, however at the time I hadn’t necessarily been able to justify why I was doing them, I suppose they just felt right, and I certainly didn’t have a vocabulary with which to describe them. So, the idea of trying to work out what a phronetic approach (which is what Flyvbjerg calls for) to pro-environmental behaviour seemed a good one. I still think it is a pretty good idea, only it’s now less than two weeks before the conference and I haven’t had a great deal of time to work on it, so it’s all a bit of a last minute thing, which is why I thought I’d sketch some of the initial ideas here.

Flyvbjerg argues that the social sciences have not had the impact that the natural sciences have had because they’ve been misguided in their attempts to emulate the natural sciences and seek universal, context-independent laws for how the social world works. He argues, however, that whilst the social sciences have been weakest where the natural sciences have been strongest, the reverse can also be true if a phronetic approach is sought instead. So, what is a phronetic approach?

Flyvbjerg draws on the Aristotelian distinction between three qualitatively different types of knowledge: episteme, techne and phronesis.

Episteme is scientific knowledge, and is still found today in words like epistemology, (indeed it’s the only one of the three words that my spell checker recognises). This is produced by the application of an analytical and logical kind of rationality which seeks universal, invariable context-independent laws to explain things.

Techne is technical knowledge, and is found today in words like technology or technique. This is essentially the engineering sciences. This is built not by seeking universal laws but by seeking pragmatic solutions to specific problems. The key thing about techne is that its production oriented and utilises a form of instrumental rationality to achieve a clear and conscious goal.

Phronesis has no obvious modern day equivalent, although has been translated into prudence or ‘practical wisdom’. Like techne, phronetic knowledge is also pragmatic, variable and context-dependent, and it’s also oriented towards action, but here this is action based on ‘value-rationality’ i.e. there may be no clearly identified problem to solve or goal to achieve because phronesis asks questions “with regard to things that are good or bad for man” (Aristotle in Flyvbjerg 2001, p2).

Now, Flyvbjerg isn’t suggesting that phronesis is necessarily better than techne or episteme in general. It’s very handy to know about the law of gravity, or to have a bridge that helps one cross a river. The point, however, is that each form of knowledge has it’s place and that you end up in a muddle if you try and apply one form of knowledge to an inappropriate set of issues. This is exactly what Flyvbjerg suggests has happened in the social sciences. He suggests that if the social sciences stopped seeking episteme and started seeking phronesis they might start to have more of an impact – they might start to matter. In his words:

“just as the social sciences have not contributed much to explanatory and predictive theory, neither have the natural sciences contributed to the reflexive analysis and discussion of values and interests, which is the prerequisite for an enlightened political, economic, and cultural development in any society.” (Flyvbjerg 2001, p3)

So, this sounds like a good idea to me, but what has it got to do with pro-environmental behaviour and the RGS?

Well, in my excitement after reading the book I felt quite strongly that a lot of the work on pro-environmental behaviour that I’d been critiquing in the thesis, particular that from a more quantitative psychological approach, was ultimately seeking to produce universal, invariable, context-independent models of pro-environmental behaviour. In short, this was perhaps a good example of the pursuit of episteme where phronesis might be more appropriate.

To give an example, models like Ajzen and Fishbein’s ‘Theory of Planned Behaviour’ (TPB - see below), although there are many many more I could select, ultimately suggest that human behaviour is nothing more than the logical outcome of a combination of different antecedent variables. In the case the TPB these variables are things like the evaluation of outcomes, ‘perceived behavioural control’, and social norms etc. and of course others have added lots more factors to this list, but ultimately all these ‘improvements’ to the model simply suggest that as long as you’ve identified the antecedent variables and they are present in the right quantities, then a particular form of either pro- or anti-environmental behaviour will be the more or less inevitable outcome. Yes, these models recognise that the precise mix and balance of variables might differ across contexts, but ultimately behaviour is still reduced to the product of these magic ingredients. This, of course, has been rapidly picked up by policy makers eager to change behaviour, but if one looks at what they’ve ultimately attempted to do, it’s basically been about trying to make sure the right variables (such as pro-environmental attitudes) are present in more places.



This, I think, is a classic case of episteme, and in my thesis it was precisely this mechanistic reductionism that I sought to challenge. Now, my thesis looked at a pro-environmental behaviour change initiative in a workplace, just one. I’m sure psychologists would claim to explain the moderately successful results of the initiative using models like the TPB, but through my ethnographic research I uncovered a whole host of usually ignored social processes which, I feel, cannot meaningfully be reduced to a simple variable in behaviour and placed in the mix with a series of others. Instead, I saw that pro-environmental behaviour change involved groups of intelligent and active people negotiating amongst themselves about precisely what their current behaviour was and what significance it had in environmental debates, asking what ‘the environment’ meant and imbuing it with a specific meaning in their specific context, considering who was telling them to change their behaviour and what right they had to do so, and also considering what other positive human values their everyday behaviour sought to fulfil and how these might be affected and challenged by a shift towards more pro-environmental sets of values and meanings. In short, I felt that these were deliberations about phronesis rather than about episteme or techne. These were deliberations about social values and relationships, about what is good or bad, and what would be a wise thing to do, rather than questions about the mechanics of individual decision-making. That’s why I thought a paper trying to flesh out what a phronetic approach to pro-environmental behaviour might look like would be a good idea. I only wish I had more time ahead of the RGS to try and do it justice.

Anyway, one of the most interesting parts of Flyvbjerg’s work is when he relates these ideas about different types of knowledges to different models of human learning. In particular, he describes Hubert and Stuart Dreyfus’ model of learning – the Dreyfus model (1986) – which is based on extensive phenomenological research and suggests that, in the course of learning, learners (and the presumption here seems to be that individuals are learners rather than communities, institutions or societies for example) pass through a number of stages en-route to expertise in a particular area. The Dreyfus model highlights 5 such stages.

The first stage is that of the ‘Novice’. Here, learners learn rules and how to follow them. Using my favourite example, we might suggest that one of the first stages of learning to play cricket is learning the basic laws of the game, or the first stage in learning to play the cover drive is being taught which parts of the body and bat to put in which positions. Now learning such rules is obviously vitally important, but interestingly, the Dreyfus model points out, after a certain point rules and their dogmatic following can actually be a hindrance to further learning. It is all well and good knowing how to perform a cover drive in a technically perfect manner, but this must also be adapted to specific situations – depending, for example, on the pitch, the conditions, the bowler etc. etc.

Once such rule-following behaviour becomes a hindrance, the Dreyfus model suggests learners move to a second stage, that of the ‘Advanced Beginner’. Here, the learner starts to recognise the salient elements of specific situations that demand rules are bent or even broken. In short, in this stage rules remain important and what behaviour occurs is still based around these rules, but there is also an element of trial and error and personal experience creeping into learning here – it’s about working out when rules don’t fully apply. In cricket, this might be characterised by, for example, analysing the pitch before a game and working out that expansive cover drives could be risky. Again, the rules of how to play a cover drive or other shots are what is guiding action, but the specific situation is also being factored-in to decision-making.

Moving beyond this second stage, there’s something of a change in the nature of how learning occurs. The third stage, that of the ‘Competent Performer’, involves a move away from simply following rules, or working out when not to follow them, but towards a greater level of personal interpretation and judgement of specific situations. Once this stage is reached, action is no longer a case of identifying which rules apply and which don’t, but the learner is seen to reach a state of ‘flow’ as they begin more intuitively to adapt their behaviour to the specific situation and its changing elements. S/he is here able to make personal judgements about what needs to be done and in what order to achieve certain goals. So, in cricket, this might be adopting the old adage of ‘playing each ball on its merits’. There aren’t rules existing in the batsman’s head simply waiting to be followed any longer, but each ball demands that new judgements are made about what is an appropriate shot to play, with what timing, with what level of force, for example.

Vitally, Flyvbjerg argues that there is a qualitative leap between the first and second stages and this third stage. He likens this leap to the limits of computer models in predicting human action:

“People are generally seen as problem-solving beings who follow a sequential model of reasoning consisting of “elements-rules-goals-plans-decisions” [by the cognitivists]. It is this model which the cognitivists have attempted to simulate in computers and in various problem-solving models, in ‘expert systems’ and in artificial intelligence. Their extrapolation yields good results when the models are applied to well-defined tasks with well-defined solutions. The cognitivists have had much less success, however, when the tasks and solutions are less well-defined.” (Flyvbjerg 2001, p14)

In short, when situations are dynamic and solutions must be found that are appropriate to these specific dynamic situations, there is a need to move beyond the simple following of fixed and static rules.

Now, I’ll admit that the next two stages of the Dreyfus model, at least on my reading of Flyvbjerg’s description, seem to be a rather vague extension of this third stage. Stage four, the ‘Proficient Performer’ sees the process of interpretation and judgment that began to happen in stage 3 become more continuous and less sequential. Then, stage 5 – ‘Expert’ – is characterised by effortless performance. This, I’d imagine, is the way you might describe how Ricky Ponting or Sachin Tendulkar bat, the way they seem to have inordinate amounts of time to select and play their shots even when bowlers are steaming in at 90-plus mph. At this expert level, performances are virtuoso in nature and rules no longer apply. Here the individual learner has reached a level of intuitive understanding and action that stretches beyond what episteme and techne can provide. As Flyvbjerg puts it:

“Where science does not reach, art, literature and narrative often help us comprehend the reality in which we live.” (Flyvbjerg 2001, p18)

Now, once again I’ve rather digressed beyond the nature of the paper I’m giving at the RGS, so to get back on track quickly, the argument I’d make on the basis of the Dreyfus’ model, is that conventional psychological approaches to pro-environmental behaviour interpret behaviour as a form of rule-following and seek to change it by adjusting the rules people follow i.e. by adding a pro-environmental attitude into consumer purchasing decisions. In short, they address individuals as, at best, stage 1 or 2 learners.

Thinking about this more carefully, and linking this back to the methodological thrust of the RGS session, it’s immediately understandable why these approaches address people in these ways, because the methods they use are designed to systematically eradicate situational specifics. These approaches tend to be based on questionnaire methods and statistical analyses of the different models. The specific strength of these approaches is said to be that they get beyond unreliable single cases to provide (statistical) representativeness. To do this, they are forced to highlight only very specific aspects of behaviours that are seen as common, albeit in potentially greater or lesser quantities, across all situations. In short, all the contextual detail, the expertise and virtuosity that individuals display as the undeniable experts in the conduct of their own day-to-day lives, is intentionally ignored and airbrushed out of the analyses. Admittedly some individuals might find rule following necessary, but such back to basics measures hardly seem fit for virtuoso’s – which is perhaps why people like Kevin Pietersen and Shane Warne have never really got on with coaches, although this is a little bit flippant.

So, instead of this return to rules, what is instead needed is greater attention to specific cases of behaviour and behaviour change, and the complexity of values, relationships, debates and deliberations that these quotidian experts are constantly, even if unconsciously, engaged in. Research on pro-environmental behaviour, I’d suggest, needs to turn to the action and deliberation that experts in everyday life conduct in specific situations. This, I think, is what my thesis was trying to achieve a better understanding of, and what more research in this area should seek.

Now, I’m going on a bit and my recent resolve to try and keep blog entries short has vanished as if it never existed, indeed, this is far too much stuff for a single conference paper, but before I stop, it is worth noting that Flyvbjerg offers some fairly loose ‘methodological guidelines’ for how a phronetic approach should be sought. These aren’t prescriptive rules to be followed – that would be hypocritical – but they are principles and values to apply and challenge across specific research projects into specific problems. First, he highlights four ‘value-rational’ questions which he sees as lying at the heart of all phronetic research. These are:

1. Where are we going? (e.g. with attempts to encourage pro-environmental behaviour)
2. Who gains and who loses, and by what mechanisms of power?
3. Is this desirable?
4. What should be done?

So, these are pretty big questions, and I hope the extent of the difference between these and questions about ‘what are the key drivers and barriers for pro-environmental behaviour’ is immediately apparent. In some sense, this is asking something of a prior question along the lines of ‘what is pro-environmental behaviour really seeking to achieve?’

Now, with these as the guiding questions, Flyvbjerg suggests nine guidelines for attempts to answer them. These are as follows:

1. Focus on values
2. Put power at the core of the analysis
3. Get close to reality (i.e. to the situation being studied)
4. Emphasise little things – details.
5. Look at practice before discourse
6. Study cases and contexts
7. Do narrative and ask how
8. Join agency and structure
9. Dialogue with a polyphony of voices

Simple really isn’t it? Now again, these guidelines aren’t meant to be prescriptive, it’s not as if they forbid one from using questionnaires or interviews in specific cases, and indeed it’s unclear if you have to simultaneously follow them all in order to be classed as ‘doing phronetic research’ – although I’d suggest that several of them are mutually reinforcing (this is certainly what I found in my PhD research – one tends to lead to another). What these guidelines suggest to me though, and others will surely interpret them differently, is that a key method for research seeking to adopt a phronetic approach is the ethnographic case study. Whilst this may not produce general laws or models for how behaviour occurs and how it might be change, this isn’t the point. Instead, what it does, I’d suggest, is treat individuals not as rule-following dunces, but as expert practitioners of everyday life. It enables the researcher to see beyond rule-based models and to try and get close to understanding virtuouso performances of both pro- and anti-environmental behaviour. By doing these things it might also be able to help individuals and groups to address much more significant questions about what is good or bad for them and for the environment, and what they might be able to do about it. In Flyvbjerg’s words:

“the purpose of social science is not to develop theory, but to contribute to society’s practical rationality in elucidating where we are, where we want to go, and what is desirable according to diverse sets of values and interests.” (Flyvbjerg 2001, p167)

This, arguably, is the way we might make social science matter. My hope is that this will also encourage pro-environmental behaviour not for its own sake, or because the Government thinks it’s a good idea, but as part of a contribution to deliberations over what sort of sustainability we wish to create. I would suggest, then, that there’s a need to get a bit more phronetic about these issues, rather than wasting time fretting about which drivers and barriers might encourage an individual to decide to turn a light off.