An alternative approach is to develop a solid set of practices and simple ideas, and develop theory that is compatible with it.
When I was developing my thoughts about simple ideas, I wrote to Chris Rootes, a sociologist who has written excellent analyses of the value of theory for social activists. He wrote back with some helpful comments:
“As far as the value of simple ideas is concerned, I would simply caution that simple ideas may be devastatingly wrong and even have extremely coercive regimes erected around them. The fact that there was little enough in the way of coherent theory behind it scarcely prevented Nazism from being a totalitarian force, and very simple, scarcely intellectualised notions of race or nation have been perfectly adequate to motivate some of the nastiest regimes in history. I think maybe `common sense’ whether it be of the liberal or the conservative sort has much to recommend it because at least it allows people to behave decently toward one another.”
This was helpful advice. Simple ideas can be helpful to murderous regimes and lead to disastrous policies. I certainly didn’t want to suggest that all simple ideas are good.
Later, I was talking about this to Carl Hedman, a philosopher and community activist living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He immediately solved the problem. He said, “Of course not all simple ideas are valuable. But some of them are. The task is to find the ones that are helpful for socially beneficial purposes.” A logician would say that simplicity is a necessary condition but not a sufficient one.
That’s basically my argument. Rather than judging ideas according to sophisticated theory, we should judge sophisticated theory according to whether it builds on and contributes to simple ideas that are helpful in practice for achieving the things we value.
Case studies
I’ve picked out a number of examples that show the value of certain simple ideas, even though in some ways the ideas are misleading, incomplete or even just plain wrong. These examples are just illustrations. No doubt some of them can be interpreted differently or used to draw different lessons. New information or analysis may invalidate them. There are lots of other possible examples; each person needs to find the ones most appropriate for them.
Sexual harassment
For untold decades, women have suffered a range of unwelcome behaviours by men. These include verbal comments of a sexual nature (“hey bitch!”), staring at breasts or crotch, touching and grabbing, demands for sexual favours (sex in order to get or keep a job), sexual assault and rape. Most women learned how to ignore or avoid these behaviours. The boss who made crude sexual jokes, leaned closely over one’s shoulder, patted one’s backside and grabbed a kiss when everyone else had gone home was just part of the job.
The resurgence of the feminist movement in the 1960s led women to reexamine their lives. The term “sexual harassment” was coined to refer to a variety of behaviours that are unwelcome, unsolicited and unreciprocated. The idea of sexual harassment captured the experiences of many women. The term was soon used widely and campaigns began to stop it, by telling women that they didn’t have to put up with it, by setting up committees to deal with complaints and by passing legislation against it. Sexual harassment still continues to occur, but it is increasingly stigmatised and resisted.
“Sexual harassment” has become a simple idea, a name for a common problem that once had no name. Like all simple ideas, there are difficulties with the idea of sexual harassment. Does a sexually explicit photograph on a shopfloor wall constitute sexual harassment? Do the perpetrators have to be told that their behaviour is unwelcome? Does a single incident count as sexual harassment, or does it require repeated instances? These and other questions can be answered according to particular sexual harassment policies or legislation. There are deeper questions, though. For example, does it make sense to include such a wide range of behaviours — from staring and casual touching to assault and rape — under one category?
Two feminist activists and scholars, Sue Wise and Liz Stanley, wrote a detailed critique of the idea of sexual harassment. Their basic theme is that sexual harassment has been defined in a narrow fashion that leaves out the harassment of women in everyday life and ignores women’s practical means of resistance. They show that “sexual harassment” has been packaged in a framework oriented to the workplace in which blatant acts of harassment are dealt with through formal mechanisms. They use anecdotes and arguments to illustrate more commonplace forms of harassment and some practical ways of responding to them. They argue that the conventional idea of sexual harassment presents women as victims, with men as the saviours via formal procedures. They argue instead that women should take action themselves. They argue that idea of sexual harassment doesn’t really grapple with the problem of male domination.[4]
I think Wise and Stanley’s critique is superb. They have wonderful insights. They have shown weaknesses in the concept of sexual harassment. Nevertheless, for all its weaknesses, I still think “sexual harassment” is a useful concept because it helps people understand everyday problems and enables campaigns to be mounted against undesirable behaviours. “Sexual harassment” may be flawed as a concept but it is still quite useful. For practical purposes, replacing it with a more sophisticated conception of male domination would not necessarily be better.
Quantum theory
In the 1920s, theoretical physicists developed powerful new ways to describe the behaviour of atoms and their component parts such as protons, neutrons and electrons. Models from the everyday world didn’t seem to apply all that well. One standard model is the particle: in some ways an electron behaves like a tiny billiard ball with an electric charge. In other ways, though, an electron behaves more like a wave, for example in causing diffraction patterns. Quantum physicists developed a mathematical way of explaining both these behaviours, symbolised by Schrödinger’s equation.
Many physicists are happy just to use the equations to work out energy levels and other results. Some ask, though, what the equations mean. Physicists in the 1920s largely reached agreement on one particular interpretation — the so-called Copenhagen interpretation — of the equations. This interpretation is based on indeterminism. The wave function in Schrödinger’s equation provides a set of probabilities for where a particle might be, but the actual position is not determined until there is an observation, causing a collapse of the wave function.
In the 1930s, the talented mathematician John von Neumann proved that a deterministic interpretation of Schrödinger’s equation, using hidden variables, was not possible. For most physicists this proof was irrelevant, since they considered the matter closed anyway.
Then in 1952 along came physicist David Bohm. He developed a deterministic, hidden-variable interpretation of quantum theory. This was impossible according to von Neumann. It wasn’t until 1966 that a flaw was found in von Neumann’s proof. Bohm had already shown, through practical example, that the proof didn’t apply. As in many cases, doing the impossible is easier than proving that a theory is wrong.
Quantum theory has caused many a physics student perplexity and anguish. Of greater interest, though, is the widespread interest in quantum theory among critics of social institutions. The Newtonian model of the universe — rule-bound, predictable, regular — has long been used as a metaphor for society. The classical physicist’s orderly universe underpins an orderly society in which everyone knows their place and keeps things running smoothly. If nature is “really” orderly, then it’s appropriate that society is too, so the logic goes.
4
Sue Wise and Liz Stanley,