Breaking Down Barriers

This week’s readings ask us to critically examine our research methodologies by reconsidering some of the historical debates that have surrounded our field, namely, the divide between quantitative/qualitative methods (Charney) and theory/practice (Sullivan and Porter).

In “Empiricism is Not Four-Letter Word,” Charney argues that “rather than endorsing or condemning methods a priori by ideological purity, we should consider how they affect our ability to work with each other to conduct the very best research we can and to expand our understanding of academic and nonacademic discourse” (283). Charney believes that researchers in our field rely too much on qualitative methods while discrediting empirical approaches (296), and she devotes much of her article to outlining and responding to common critiques of research informed by scientific methods.

Accordingly, each section of her article begins with a summary of what Charney characterizes as misinformation surrounding science and the scientific method. As a science-friendly English student (I began my undergraduate career with a double major in biology and mathematics, and while I recognize its limitations, popular science literature is one of my favorite genres), I was shocked by some of the arguments composition scholars have put forth. In particular, I was taken aback by the idea that science and its methods are inherently sexist. While I recognize that our society privileges scientific knowledge over other kinds (and especially the approaches and knowledge offered by humanistic fields), and that science has traditionally been and continues to be a male-dominated field, Blyler, Flynn, and Lay’s claim that “. . . feminism is consistent only with subjective, qualitative, narrative, ethnographic research. . .” (285) seems excessive – and limiting. In her response to this charge, Charney cites other feminist researchers who argue, “. . . sexism and other injustices have often been most effectively exposed by quantitative studies that provide stronger evidence of the prevalence of a problem and its trends than can individual testimony” (285). One example that comes to mind is the pay gap between women and men. I seem room for both subjective and objective approaches. If the goal is to fight injustice, why not use all the tools at our disposal?

In my view, one of the strongest arguments against using empirical methods in composition research is science’s claim of being “objective.” As Charney points out, objectivity does not necessarily mean absolutism or positivism (284).  Furthermore, Charney acknowledges,  ” . . . scientific knowledge and methods are, at least in part, socially constructed” (287). Whenever I find myself in the position of defending science (and it’s always science as a whole – not, say, evolutionary biology), I often begin by acknowledging the socially constructed nature of scientific knowledge. I then posit that the scientific method is the best approach we have for understanding phenomena in the natural world. I would not extend that claim to writing, however.

While I appreciate Charney’s call for an increased acceptance and use of empirical methods in our field, I believe a situational approach is best. There are some aspects of writing, and in particular the writing process, which cannot be quantified. In these cases, a qualitative approach may be more appropriate. For this reason, Sullivan and Porter’s “On Theory, Practice and Method” struck a chord with me. The authors argue that “. . . research methodology should not be something we apply or select as much as something we design out of particular situations and then argue for in our studies” (301). In order to do so, Sullivan and Porter make a compelling argument for moving beyond the theory/practice divide. In order to bridge this divide, they offer the concept of praxis.

Sullivan and Porter define praxis as “. . . a type of conduct that negotiates between positions rather than grounding itself in any particular position” (302). In other words, our research must consist of a negotiation between theory and practice and not rely too heavily on one or the other. Praxis involves “prudential reasoning” (305). Because methodology is rhetorical (and also theoretical), we must thoughtfully choose the most appropriate methods for a particular situation, and justify our reasons for doing so. Choosing quantitative or qualitative methods (or some combination of the two), for instance, is ideally determined by purpose and situation.

I find Sullivan and Porter’s focus on praxis reasonable, and to borrow their term, prudential. Their most intriguing and problematic claim is born out of this emphasis on a balanced approach. Because they see theory, practice, and method as heuristics, the kind of knowledge our research offers cannot be objective in the scientific sense. Instead, they believe researchers can only offer understanding, which they define as “strategic knowledge” (312).

I have sometimes struggled to articulate exactly what kind of “knowledge” we impart to students, and especially when I am called upon to justify what it is I do in the classroom. We cannot offer the kind of truth that science endeavors to provide. Kent’s paralogic hermeneutics further calls into question how much we can really teach writing (or anything, for that matter, since all communication involves negotiation). However, I find Sullivan and Porter’s definition of “understanding” to be a good first step in defining exactly what research into writing can offer. Whether we use quantitative or qualitative methods of research, it seems that we are unable to come to an objective (meaning absolute) truth about writing. Understanding brings us closer to the mark – much in the same way I believe the scientific method brings us to an understanding of the natural world.

Charney, Davida. “Empiricism is Not a Four-Letter Word.” Central Works in Technical Communication. Ed. Johndan Johnson-Eilola and Stuart A. Selber. New York: Oxford University Press, 2004. 281-299. Print.

Sullivan, Patrician, and James Porter. “On Theory, Practice, and Method: Toward a Heuristic Research Methodology for Professional Writing.” Central Works in Technical Communication. Ed. Johndan Johnson-Eilola and Stuart A. Selber. New York: Oxford University Press, 2004. 300-313. Print.

2 comments

  1. ewardell

    Ashleigh, without having a background in science, I think I had a lot of the same reactions you did to this reading. After reading Charney, I felt like a lot of the sneaking suspicions I had about some of my own studies surfaced quickly and I couldn’t help but worry that I was taking a far too “ethocentric” view that was privileging an ethnographic method over a quantitative method that would have taken a little more time to find out if the data I was analyzing was isolated or part of a trend. Or as Charney puts it “By producing numerous individual subjective studies, we have constructed a broad shallow array of information, in which one study may touch loosely on another but in which no deep or complex networks or inferences and hypotheses or forged or tested” (297). I sometimes wonder, as I’ve partially noted in my own post, if we have some duty as technical writers not to do this very thing and integrate more quantitative research either out of our own surveys or from studies that have actually been tested or observed.

    I understand that sometimes the tendency is to avoid studies like this because they are inconvenient and simply take up too much time, but I’m not convinced that’s responsible. I wrote a paper on a language feature of a single speaker (which was very ethnographic) and asked if we could apply differance to the gendered patterns and discovered that although Derrida’s are great for breaking down bigoted stereotypes, they don’t lend themselves so well to scientific inquiry, cataloguing features, and discussing the results in a way that either makes some sort of discovery or leads to new research.

    So based on your own inclination towards science and these two articles, what responsibility do you think we have as both tech writers and as teachers of tech writing to better educate ourselves and engage with the scientific process before we pursue a career?

  2. AshleighP

    Hi Eric,

    Great question. I’ll tackle the job part first. As far as that goes, I feel like we’ll be able to educate ourselves about the specific discipline we’re working in (e.g., engineering or medicine), perhaps through a combination of on-the-job training, working with content experts, and outside reading.

    The teaching aspect is more difficult for me. Although I feel like I have a pretty solid background in the sciences, I also recognize that I’ve forgotten a lot of what I learned. I earned by BA five years ago, and I’m no longer called upon to design experiments involving, for instance, pea plants. :)

    I try to have a general awareness of what it is my students actually do, but I’m far from knowledgeable when it comes to some fields – engineering, especially. I’m trying to make up for that by asking students about their own experiences and what kind of writing they do. How do you approach teaching students from STEM fields? Most of the students in my class are not English majors, and I assume that’s the case for you as well.