Philosophy of Social Science and International Relations PDF

Philosophy of Social Science and International Relations o l i n W i g h t ================= issue effectively defines the content of its subject matter (Bhaskar, 1979). Following conventional usage within the philosophy of social science, I shall call this the problem of "naturalism."^2^ Within t...

Philosophy of Social Science and International Relations o l i n W i g h t ================= issue effectively defines the content of its subject matter (Bhaskar, 1979). Following conventional usage within the philosophy of social science, I shall call this the problem of "naturalism."^2^ Within the context of this question a range of subsidiary issues typically emerge: the nature of explanation, the nature of causation, the nature of laws, and so on (Bunge, 1996; Reynolds, 1973; Suganami, 1996; Kurki, 2008). Of course, the philosophy of social science in IR is not only concerned with the question of science. Another fundamental question has revolved around what is known as the agent-- structure problem (Carlsnaes, 1992; Dessler, 1989; Wendt, 1987; Wight, 1999a, 2006). This issue defies easy definition, and the confusion over what is at stake in the agent-- structure problem has led one pair of commentators to suggest that it is not at all clear if the contributors to the debate in IR are referring to the same problem (Friedman and Starr, 1997). Whatever this problem does involve, however, all parties agree that a substantive element of it concerns a conundrum best elaborated by Marx: "Men make their own history, but they do not make it just as they please; they do not make it under conditions chosen by themselves" (Marx, 1962). The agent--structure problem then, is concerned with the relationship between active and self-reflecting agents and the structural context in which their activity takes place.^3^ There are many aspects to this problem, and it has surfaced under various guises within the philosophy of social science^4^ (Singer, 1961). When combined with the issue of naturalism, it is tempting to picture these problems in terms of a matrix such as Figure 2.1 (Hollis and Smith, 1990; Wendt, 1999; see also Carlsnaes, Chapter 12 in this volume).^5^ The problem with such diagrammatic devices is that their inability to deal with the complexity of the issues introduces a high level of distortion as to what the actual fault lines are (Hollis and Smith, 1992: 216; see also Carlsnaes, Chapter 12 in this volume). That is, the matrix provides an image of rigid boundaries that do not hold when the issue is considered in other discursive and less dichotomous ways. Moreover, taking seriously the fact that those involved in the study of IR largely construct the self-images of IR that dominate, we can see how the fault lines of contemporary IR might themselves be an artifact of the pictorial representation of them in two-by-two matrix form. In short, the use of such devices to explain disciplinary divisions contributes to their construction. Such devices may be valuable aids in teaching and understanding complex issues, but we should always be aware of what Mario Bunge calls the "Myth of Simplicity" (Bunge, 1963). The primary aim of this chapter is to provide an account of the philosophy of social science within IR in order to demonstrate that the contemporary theoretical cleavages that structure the discipline are unable to support the weight they are being asked to bear. In short, the contemporary meta-theoretical framework the discipline employs is a bar to constructive dialogue; a hindrance to muchneeded research into issues of vital concern; a confused misrepresentation of the issues; and most importantly, a construct of those [Explaining Understanding] -- -- -- -- **Figure 2.1 Philosophical positions in relation to social study.** working in the field, and hence they have it within their power to change it. I begin by providing a set of arguments for taking the philosophy of social science seriously and give a brief sketch of the development of the philosophy of social science. In the following section, I briefly discuss the early development of the discipline in the context of claims that it is a science of social affairs. The third section deals with the first genuine attempt to constitute IR as a science on the basis of literature drawn from the philosophy of science and the philosophy of social science. A key component here will be understanding the role of positivism and its use within the discipline.^6^ In the fourth section, I concentrate on contemporary debates and, in particular, attempt to throw some light on what is increasingly becoming what one commentator has called "a philosophical swamp" (Walker, 2000).^7^ Finally, I briefly outline some of the recent attempts to escape from this "philosophical swamp" that aim to produce a more productive and integrative cross- paradigm conversation within the discipline. **LEGITIMATION: DOES IR NEED THE PHILOSOPHY OF SOCIAL SCIENCE?** The utility of examining the philosophy of social science within IR is not self-evident. Critical voices have often doubted whether the discipline has either the intellectual resources, or the need, to engage in such an exercise (Griffiths and O'Callaghan, 2001: 199; Skocpol, 1987). Many would prefer to leave such esoteric speculation to those more able -- philosophers, perhaps (Wallace, 1996). Others doubt whether philosophy as a different "order of discourse" can provide the kind of legitimation claimed on its behalf (Gunnell, 1975: 54, 1998: 6). Often, this skepticism towards disciplinary selfreflection derives from a belief that such inquiries lead to the neglect of more substantive forms of knowledge generation (Gunnell, 1998: xii; Halliday, 1996: 320; Mann, 1996; Skocpol, 1987). The philosophy of science only really emerged as a recognizable field of study in the 1930s (Dingle, 1952; Gordon, 1991; Gunnell, 1998; Oldroyd, 1986). Early understandings of science were rudimentary and were generally based upon accounts developed by Thomas Hobbes, John Stuart Mill, David Hume, and Rene Descartes (Gordon, 1991). However, conscious reflection on the nature of human inquiry can be said to have played a role in the human sciences ever since reflection on the human condition became a recognizable activity (Gordon, 1991; Manicas, 1987). Thucydides, for example, is said to have been the first scientific historian (Abbott, 1970; Gilpin, 1986: 306; Tellis, 1996), or perhaps even a positivist. It is doubtful if this characterization of Thucydides as a positivist can be sustained (Bagby, 1994; Garst, 1989), particularly if one places the development of positivism in a historical perspective (Kolakowski, 1969; Oldroyd, 1986). Yet, it does highlight the manner in which positivism and science became interchangeable terms in the twentieth century (Bhaskar, 1986). If social inquiry is to emulate the natural sciences, it needs to examine its methods, procedures, and underlying rationale. It needs a yardstick against which its claims to be a science can be measured. Where better to look than the philosophy of science? Since knowledge claims in social science are almost always couched in terms of some philosophical justificatory framework, the various disciplines have felt the need to examine their status (Reynolds, 1973: 14). Gunnell (1975: 54) sees this as an impossible enterprise and argues that "political science must chart its own methodological route, and that the defense of that route cannot be achieved by invoking the authority of science." There are two problems with this claim. First, the influence of the philosophy of science on social inquiry is not simply methodological, and second, his argument relies on the assumption that the philosophy of science can tell us nothing about the practices of science. But the philosophy of science *does* claim to reflect on the practice of science and to pronounce on some of its essential elements. No doubt it will get much wrong, but there is no a priori reason to assume it will get it all wrong. Since the philosophy of science does claim some legitimacy in terms of its understanding of science, then it is perfectly appropriate for social inquiry to look to it for resources. Moreover, academic disciplines are not as hermetically sealed as Gunnell seems to suggest and include philosophical concepts as essential elements within their frameworks. The final reason why such abstract conceptual inquiries are important is that whereas natural scientists may disagree on the actual content of specific explanations, they agree on what an explanation of a given phenomenon would look like. Social scientists, on the other hand, do not. For a discipline supposedly born out of a desire to uncover the causes of war, not knowing the conditions under which such a discovery might be made seems a damning indictment. Knowing the causes of war is one thing; knowing that we know them is an altogether different matter. Equally, there is no consensus on the nature of causation itself, or how we should study it (Kurki, 2008), and these issues can only be addressed through a systematic analysis that will inevitably draw on debates from the philosophy of science and the philosophy of social science. Yet engagement alone does not guarantee success, and it has to be admitted that many of the complaints against the use and abuse of the philosophy of social science within IR have some substance (Halliday, 1994: 23; Kratochwil, 2000; Wallace, 1996). In general, these problems occur due to a lack of conceptual clarity, the misuse of key terms, and the naïve appropriation of key concepts developed in cognate disciplines with little awareness of the specifics of their use or the context of their development. The most glaring examples of these concern the use of terms such as ontology, epistemology, and methodology, although the widespread and uncritical adoption of Kuhn's notion of paradigms has been equally damaging (Banks, 1985; Vasquez, 1998). Within the philosophy of social science and the philosophy of science, these terms have very specific uses and function to maintain analytical clarity and as ways of delineating very specific aspects of the field. In IR, on the other hand, these terms are often thrown around like philosophical hand grenades, with little consideration given to how they are deployed, or to what end.^8^ **EARLY IR: A SCIENCE WITH NO PHILOSOPHY** Science was not always a problematic term in the discipline. Early practitioners were perhaps not clear on how the term was deployed, but there was a general acceptance that IR could and should be a science. Ashley J. Tellis argues that the development of realism from Thucydides to the present day can be understood as a "Long March to Scientific Theory" (Tellis, 1996). And despite a number of critiques questioning the extent to which Thucydides can be considered a realist, few have doubted that his discussion of the Peloponnesian War is "severe in its detachment, written from a purely intellectual point of view, unencumbered with platitudes and moral judgments, cold and critical" (Bury, 1975: 252). Thomas Hobbes had provocative views about which subjects could be deemed to be scientific, but there is little doubt that he considered his own work a science, and he perhaps even thought of himself as the inventor of political science (Ryan, 1996). Within Hobbes's notion of political science, there were already the seeds of a very clearly demarcated difference between what he called "political science" and "political prudence" (Ryan, 1996). According to Hobbes, Thucydides's analysis was based at the level of political prudence; in general, it equated to practical wisdom and was attained through a close examination of historical examples. Political prudence was a genuine form of knowledge, yet it is inevitably knowledge of particulars. It is a form of knowledge based upon experience of the past and of what has happened. It is not, however, knowledge of how things *must* work and what *must* happen. It was not scientific knowledge. Science, for Hobbes, must be hypothetical, general, and infallible. But nonetheless, he considered that politics could, and should, be a science. Interestingly, despite Carr's commitment to science, some have argued that he is best considered part of the interpretive tradition within the discipline (Dunne, 1998: 7), whereas others see him as operating with both a scientific and interpretive outlook (George, 1994: 77). But whichever tradition Carr should be considered to be within, his critique of the idealists does indicate something important about the disciplinary politics of such labels. Carr's claim that realism was based upon acceptance of the facts and analysis of their causes and consequences is mirrored by Norman Angell's plea for the development of education about international political affairs. The lack of such education, claimed Angell, was a barrier to the "impartial search for truth, the true interpretation of all the facts" (Angell, 1947: 17); without this belief we render "inoperative the only method by which we can hope to make steady progress: the correction of social theory and doctrine in the light of fact and experience; the scientific method applied to society" (Angell, 1947: 23). Hans Morgenthau was one of the first major figures in the discipline to openly argue against IR as a science. His early work was conceived as an attempt to provide a "scientifically unassailable classification of international disputes" (Honig, 1996: 289). And this commitment to science was still evident in his 1940 essay "Positivism, Functionalism and International Law" (Honig, 1996; Morgenthau, 1940). In this piece, he bemoaned the attempt to construct international law at a technical level devoid of scientific principles (Morgenthau, 1940: 284). This position was completely reversed in *Scientific Man and Power Politics*, where he rejects all hope of a scientific IR (Morgenthau, 1946, 1972). Yet despite Morgenthau's clear renunciation of science and positivism, scholars within IR still aligned him with science (Hollis and Smith, 1990: 23), with some even going as far as to label him a positivist (George, 1994; see Bain, 2000 for an alternative view). The assertion that Morgenthau should be viewed as committed to a science of IR is generally made on the basis of his claim that politics is governed by "objective laws that have their roots in human nature" (George, 1994: 93; Hollis and Smith, 1990: 23--4; Morgenthau, 1948: 4). But to construe this claim as supporting a commitment to scientific IR is to miss the point. In conceding that politics is governed by objective laws of human nature, Morgenthau is actually saying that there is no need for a science of IR, because IR is governed by laws that are explained by biology, not social science (Griffiths, 1992: 39). There is nothing for a science of IR to discover, and we know the laws of human behavior. Morgenthau's theory is best viewed as a manual for state leaders. It is a technical guide to policy based on an understanding of the laws that govern human interactions. Importantly, Morgenthau does not ground his arguments about human nature in any scientific context, but in a metaphysical one (Griffiths, 1992: 38, 43; Honig, 1996: 305). What is interesting about these developments is the absence of any sustained discussion on the nature of the science that was either being advanced or rejected. There was little attempt to legitimate claims about science by recourse to bodies of literature developed in other disciplines, and no real attempt to spell out the actual content of the science being proposed. Indeed, for someone like Herbert Butterfield, science simply *was* traditional forms of inquiry (Butterfield, 1951; Dunne, 1998: 123). This lack of legitimation in terms of the philosophy of science is understandable given the underdeveloped state of the philosophy of science at the time. However, developments were moving on rapidly, and a consensus was emerging which was, for better or worse, to stamp its mark on IR in ways that could not have been envisaged. The science of IR was about to rediscover some philosophy. **ADOLESCENT IR: THE LEGITIMATION OF SCIENCE** The systematic use of the philosophy of science within IR begins with what John Vasquez terms the "behavioral revolt" (Vasquez, 1998: 39). Although this "revolt" had been taking place within political science and other social sciences since the early 1950s, it did not begin to emerge into IR in a substantive way until the l960s (Knorr and Rosenau, 1969). In 1950, Harold Lasswell and Abraham Kaplan explicitly argued that their attempt to provide a framework for political science was informed by developments in logical positivist philosophy of science (Gunnell, 1975; Lasswell and Kaplan, 1950).^9^ This turn to the philosophy of science was validated by David Easton (1953, 1965), who argued that "the widespread acceptance of the philosophy of science as a basis for social inquiry represents a "takeoff " phenomenon in social science, promising sustained growth in social interpretation" (Lane, 1966). Despite claims to be following the scientific method, behavioralism was actually an attempt to implement a particular philosophy of science that was dominant at that time, which was positivism. Thus, positivism became synonymous with the term science in the discipline. This is an important point and highlights something often missed in disciplinary discussions relating to the study of IR. For the model of science that underpins the "behavioral revolt" in IR is based upon a very specific philosophy of science and not the practices of scientists (Gunnell, 1975: 19). This also helps explain many of the contemporary confusions surrounding science in IR, since it is never clear whether it is science per se that is being rejected, the logical positivist version, or other less extreme positivist versions. This problem is compounded by the fact that there is no longer a consensus on what positivism is, with one commentator identifying 12 versions of it (Halfpenny, 1982). Moreover, the philosophy of science itself was soon to reject positivism and to claim that the practices of scientists did not conform to the positivist model. This held out the rather paradoxical prospect that all approaches that had attempted to emulate the positivist model were not actually following scientific procedures. This also helps illuminate how some contemporary confusions emerge in relation to positivism. For example, Hollis and Smith's claim that Morgenthau's version of realism is "an essentially positivistic way of analysing events, since it relied on a notion of underlying forces producing behaviour" (Hollis and Smith, 1990: 23) is problematic given positivism's rejection of the search for underlying causes. Underpinned by positivism, a more overt scientific approach took a firm hold in the discipline (Alker, 1965; Hollis and Smith, 1990; Rosenau, 1971). When viewed from the perspective of the philosophy of social science, four aspects stand out. First, whatever the merits of positivism, behavioralism in IR was at least consistent with its fundamental principles and attempted to validate its "scientific" credentials as opposed to simply taking them as given. Abraham Kaplan's *The Conduct of Inquiry* (1964) is perhaps the most important work in this respect, but others had preceded it (Brecht, 1959; Van Dyke, 1960; see also Meehan, 1968). Second, the behavioralists were scathing about the lack of rigor within classical realism (Hollis and Smith, 1990: 28) and they deemed realism to be unscientific. The consistent application of positivism entailed that assumptions about human nature were metaphysical, nonobservable, and hence unscientific. Third, the importation of positivism to IR was not without sustained resistance. At the forefront of this resistance was Hedley Bull's polemical attack on what he called the scientific approach (Bull, 1969: 361). Against this scientific approach, which he clearly sees embedded within positivism (Bull, 1969: 362), Bull argues for the "classical" approach embodied within the works of Zimmern, Carr, and Morgenthau. Donald J. Puchala, however, argues that within American IR the new version of science peddled by behavioralists was rejected by major American figures in the field (Ferguson and Mansbach, 1988; Puchala, 1991). Stanley Hoffmann, in an early critique characterized as a "wrecking operation," was scathing about Kaplan's proposed science of IR (Hoffman, 1961). Also, Leo Strauss (1953) attacked the onward march of "scientism in political science," and Michael Haas (1969) identifies many American critics. Yet, despite these critical voices, the behavioralists were able to take control of the label "science." Fourth, while the introduction of behavioralism was initially hailed as a dramatic stride forward in terms of the development of a "scientific" IR (Lijphart, 1974a, 1974b), later accounts now argue that this debate did not fundamentally change underlying assumptions and was essentially only a very limited debate about methodology (Guzzini, 1998; Hollis and Smith, 1990; Holsti, 1985, 1998; Vasquez, 1998). Another neglected aspect of the behavioral revolution within IR is the extent to which its adherents conceived of themselves as going beyond social science and instituting a "behavioral science" (Easton, 1965: 18). The "behavioral revolt" was not only about placing IR on a more scientific basis, but about taking part in an ambitious attempt to unify all of the human sciences into a seamless whole. In fact, David Easton saw the behavioral movement as the next stage in the development of human knowledge, where the human sciences would be united into one research program, centered on the notion of behavior (Easton, 1965). Whatever the overall impact of the "behavioral revolt" on the discipline, it legitimated the turn to the philosophy of social science and the philosophy of science. References to Hempel, Nagel, Popper, Kuhn, Feyerabend, and Lakatos became commonplace. Waltz devoted a chapter of his *Theory of* *International Politics* (1979) to the philosophy of science, and strongly defended an instrumentalist treatment of theoretical terms (Griffiths, 1992: 93). And, of course, Thomas Kuhn has shaped the discipline in fundamental ways. That Kuhn's framework was adopted so universally across the discipline is puzzling when one considers that Kuhn himself thought that the social sciences were in a preparadigmatic state and doubted whether they could ever be "mature sciences" (Kuhn, 1962: 164--5; see also Kuhn, 1970: 245; see Ferguson and Mansbach, 1988 for a critique of the attempt to apply Kuhn to IR). Yet, reasons for Kuhn's success in the social sciences are not hard to find. Political scientists, sociologists, and anthropologists recognized in their own practices and disciplinary conflicts Kuhn's picture of paradigms. They were delighted to hear that what had previously been thought of as a barrier to the development of a social science was the way it was done in respectable sciences. Traditionalists could now portray themselves as working in a different paradigm, thus making themselves immune to critiques from the scientists. The scientists could continue unperturbed, safe in the knowledge that they were actually contributing to knowledge growth under the guise of normal science. And dissidents could now portray themselves as revolutionary heroes of a new paradigm. Here was a philosophy of science that not only seemed to put science in its place, but legitimated what social scientists already did and required little in the way of change. Kuhn's ambiguous terminology was also a key factor. His master concept, that of paradigm, was particularly subject to various interpretations; Margaret Masterman (Masterman, 1970) identified 21 different ways Kuhn used the term, a criticism Kuhn accepted (Kuhn, 1970). This ambiguity allowed the framework a large measure of flexibility and ensured its welcome into disciplines that made definitional debate a key component of their research practices. The first was an incipient conservatism There is little doubt that Kuhn's work has fundamentally -- for better or worse -- shaped the discipline. However, the discipline has typically seen this as a resource to be mined as opposed to displaying any awareness of either the complexities of his ideas, or the many trenchant critiques of his position. Even in those instances where the difficulties are acknowledged, these are brushed aside in the attempt to apply the framework (Vasquez, 1998; see Katzenstein et al., 1998 for a similar treatment of Lakatos, and Elman and Elman, 2003 for a critique). Often, Kuhn's notion of paradigms was grafted onto a Lakatosian framework for theory choice with little in the way of justification (Christensen and Snyder, 1997; Elman and Elman, 1997; Vasquez, 1997b; for a critique, see Waltz, 1997). The philosophy of science was now in IR, and the discipline needs to consider it much more carefully if it is to play such a fundamental role. Unfortunately, before the discipline could reflect on its turn to the philosophy of science, there was to be an explosion of alternative philosophical sources of inspiration. **CONTEMPORARY IR: PHILOSOPHY, BEGINNING, AND END?** If the Kuhnian experience within the discipline vindicated the turn to the philosophy of science, then the philosophy of social science was surely everywhere. Unfortunately, this was not the case. Despite a vast body of literature on the philosophy of social science, the number of works dealing with these issues specifically in relation to IR is small (George, 1994; Hollis and Smith, 1990; Neufeld, 1995; Mackenzie, 1967, 1971; Nicholson, 1983, 1996a; Reynolds, 1973; Sylvester, 1993). There are, of course, many references to the philosophy of social science, but these are scattered around the discipline in fragments (Alker, 1996; Campbell, 1988; Carlsnaes, 1992; Dessler, 1989; George and Campbell, 1990; Wendt, 1987). Hollis and Smith, in the first sustained presentation of this argument within IR, argue that the discipline could do better than turning to the philosophy of science and that there were models of social science not based on the natural sciences that might be more appropriate (Hollis and Smith, 1990: 68--91). The philosophical inspiration for their argument is Peter Winch, although they also draw on a range of hermeneutic thinkers as well, particularly Weber (Weber, 1949; Winch, 1958). In fact, Hollis and Smith's argument had already played a fundamental role in structuring the discipline, even if those arguing against a science of IR have never specifically located their argument in a sustained engagement with the philosophy of social science. Reynolds (1973) perhaps stands out as a notable exception, but his work is concerned with the distinction between science and history, as opposed to that between science and hermeneutics. More importantly, and contrary to Hollis and Smith, Reynolds argues that the traditionalists and the scientists have "more in common than their advocates have perhaps realized" (Reynolds, 1973: 15). Likewise, W.J.M. Mackenzie (1967, 1971) also sees no fundamental conflict in the attempt to integrate a scientific IR with more traditional forms of inquiry. Hollis and Smith's book emerged in the context of what has come to be called the post-positivist turn (George, 1989, 1994; Holsti, 1989; Lapid, 1989), and has given the antiscience wing of the discipline a series of formidable philosophical arguments to draw from. Hollis and Smith argue that one can have either an explanatory account (based on scientific principles), or an understanding account (based on hermeneutic principles); what one cannot have is some combination of the two (Hollis and Smith, 1990, 1994). In reality, Hollis and Smith's "two stories" thesis is not wholly consistent with that of either Winch or Weber (Hollis and Smith, 1990, 1991, 1992, 1994, 1996). Winch (1958) had rejected all attempts to construct a science of the social, and Weber (1949) had insisted on the necessity of both forms of analysis. Weber rejected both the positivist contention that the cognitive aims of the natural and the social sciences were basically the same and the opposing historicist doctrine that it is impossible to make legitimate generalizations about human behavior because human actions are not subject to the regularities that govern the world of nature. Against the historicists, Weber argued that the method of science, whether its subject matter be things or men, always proceeds by abstraction and generalization. Against the positivists, he took the view that the explanation of human behavior could not rest only on its external manifestations, but required also knowledge of the underlying motivations. Hence Weber's definition of sociology as that science which aims at the *interpretative understanding (Verstehen)* of social behavior in order to gain an explanation of its causes, its course, and its effects. According to Weber, what distinguishes the natural and social sciences is not an inherent difference in methods of investigation, but rather the differing interests and aims of the scientist. Both types of science involve abstraction. Hence, there is no insurmountable chasm between the procedures of the natural and the social scientist; they differ only in their cognitive intentions and explanatory projects (Weber, 1949). Weber saw the notion of interpretative understanding as only a preliminary step in the establishment of causal relationships. The grasping of subjective meaning of an activity, he argued, is facilitated through empathy (*Einfühlung*) and a reliving (*Nacherleben*) of the experience to be analyzed. But any interpretative explanation (*verstehende Erklärung*) must become a causal explanation if it is to attain the stature of a scientific proposition. *Verstehen* and causal explanation are correlative rather than opposed principles of method in the social sciences (Weber, 1949). Given the philosophical justification of the arguments of Hollis and Smith, however, the only alternative is a philosophical refutation, not simply a rejection of the position, or a creative redescription (Suganami, 2000; see Patomäki, 1996, for a philosophical engagement). This task is complicated by the fact that many of the labels currently being deployed in the discipline are not clearly delineated, or their content is not sufficiently explained (see Smith, 1995 for an account of the discipline's self-images; see also Waever, 1996). In this respect, despite the appearance of philosophical sophistication, the discipline has moved from throwing philosophical hand grenades to a largely untargeted artillery barrage against an ill-defined series of enemies. Critical theorists criticized mainstream commitments to science (Cox, 1981; Hoffman, 1987; Linklater, 1990). For some, critical theory is seen as a replacement for a positivist form of social science (Brown, 1994; S. Smith, 1996: 24). Yet, as Mark Hoffman points out, critical theory did not denigrate positivism, but rather aimed to show how scientific knowledge aimed at mere technical control was not the only legitimate type of knowledge (Hoffman, 1987: 236). Certainly, Habermas viewed positivist, hermeneutic, and critical research as legitimate components of all social inquiry (Habermas, 1988). Likewise, Andrew Linklater seems to accept the validity of positivist-informed research, whilst rejecting the idea that it exhausts the possibilities (Linklater, 1990). Positivism as a valid philosophy of science is accepted, and only the boundaries of its legitimate use within social science are disputed. As such, a critical theory approach to social science will incorporate elements of positivism as well as hermeneutics, but attempt to go beyond them in terms of emancipatory potential. Feminist approaches in IR, as in other social science disciplines, critiqued science on the basis of its male-centered assumptions and lack of attention to gendered forms of knowledge construction (Elshtain, 1997; Enloe, 1990, 1993; Sylvester, 1993; Tickner, 1992; Zalewski, 1993). However, there is little in the way of agreement about appropriate standards of inquiry within feminism (Zalewski, 1993; see also Tickner and Sjoberg, Chapter 7 in this volume). Some feminists view their work in terms of science, even if they would not accept the label positivist (Enloe, 1990). Often described as the most radical attack on the assumptions of social science, postmodernism and post-structuralism are difficult bodies of thought to characterize (Ashley, 1987, 1989; Ashley and Walker, 1990; Campbell, 1998a; Der Derian and Shapiro, 1989; George, 1994; Walker, 1993). Also, the discipline seems unable, or unwilling, to attempt to make any differentiation between postmodernism and post-structuralism, and tends to treat the two terms as synonymous (Rosenau, 1990: 84--5; Vasquez, 1995). This is problematic in terms of the philosophy of social science. Post-structuralism emerges out of a general critique of structuralism (Harland, 1987). It is critical of structuralism's attempt to develop an objective science of social structures, but equally important is that post-structuralism expresses no desire to return to a form of inquiry based upon the subjectivity of agents (Harland, 1987, 1993; Rabinow, 1982; Rosenau, 1990). Structural forms of inquiry had come to dominate many forms of social science (Althusser and Balibar, 1970; Durkheim, \[1938\] 1964; Harland, 1987, 1993). Structuralism proposes that understanding social practices requires the decentering of individual subjectivities and a focusing of attention on the structural modalities and organizing principles within which social practices are framed (Harland, 1987, 1993; Kurzweil, 1980). Structuralism was an attempt to scientifically describe the structural principles with which activity could be explained (Harland, 1993; Jackson, 1991). Waltz's structural realism, although not specifically embedded with a structuralist meta-theory, can be understood as a structuralist theory of IR (Waltz, 1979; see Ashley, 1984 for a critique of Waltz that makes this explicit). Post-structuralism departs from two central tenets of structuralism (Harland, 1987, 1993). First, the logic of structures, which structuralism had thought was clear and determinate, is challenged (Derrida, 1988). For post-structuralism, structures do not operate according to one organizing principle or logic (Harland, 1987). Indeed, for poststructuralism there is no underlying logic to structures, and hence there is structural indeterminacy (Doty, 1997; Harland, 1987; see Wight, 1999b for a critique). Social outcomes, which are products of social structures, are also indeterminate (Doty, 1997). Attempts to ascribe a logic to social activity must necessarily either fail or impose a logic on the situation through claims to some form of legitimacy -- generally science (Derrida, 1988). But science, as a social practice dependent upon structures, also falls to the same logic, and its outputs are either indeterminate, or such determinacy that does emerge can only be the outcome of practices that attempt to tame the indeterminacy of structures (Ashley, 1987, 1989; Ashley and Walker, 1990). This means that all claims to scientific objectivity are actually social practices imposing order through practices of power (Ashley, 1987, 1989; George, 1994; Walker, 1993). Postmodernism expands on this post-structuralist position and grafts onto it various other wholesale critiques of reason, reality, truth, and so forth (Brodribb, 1992; Callinicos, 1990; Dews, 1987; Eagleton, 1996; Farrell, 1996; Nicholson, 1993; Owen, 1997; in IR see Brown, 1994; Devetak, 1996; Jarvis, 2000; Rengger and Hoffman, 1990; Vasquez, 1995). The fourth source of influences and ideas that began to be imported is that of social theory. This position has been labeled constructivism within the discipline (Adler, 1997; Guzzini, 2000; Hopf, 1998; Kratochwil, 1989; Onuf, 1989, 1998; Ruggie, 1998; Wendt, 1987). This is a very problematic term because there are some very conflicting positions being imported under this label (Adler, 1997; Hopf, 1998; see also chapter 5 by Adler in this volume; Ruggie, 1998). The confusion is evident when one considers that John Ruggie, in his typology of constructivism, includes post-structuralism (Ruggie, 1998: 35; see also chapter by Adler in this volume), whereas Smith sees a clear demarcation between them (Smith, 1995, 1996, 1997). Wendt (1987, 1999) and David Dessler (1989, 1991, 1999) provide good introductions to scientific realism (see also Shapiro and Wendt, 1992). Ashley J. Tellis (1996) writes of something called "scientific realism" and aligns it with Karl Popper's "critical rationalism." It seems unlikely, however, that by "scientific realism" Tellis means the philosophy of science version of it, and his scientific realism can only be political realism that attempts to be scientific. Nonetheless, precisely because the labels are deployed with little clarification, confusion abounds. Kratochwil provides a recent attempt to address scientific realism, but ultimately his treatment lacks, an understandable, depth of analysis (Kratochwil, 2000; see also Doty, 1997, and the critique by Wight, 1999a, and the subsequent exchange: Doty, 1999; Wight, 2000). Heikki Patomäki and Colin Wight have begun what might be a closer examination of scientific realism, although the tenacity of the view that science equals positivism is a serious obstacle to any serious evaluation of alternative views of science (Patomäki and Wight, 2000; see also Patomäki, 1996, 2001; Lane, 1996; Wendt, 1999). A key factor that the discipline has yet to take seriously is that the demise of the positivist orthodoxy within the philosophy of science now means that there is "no definitive or agreed cannon of scientific explanation" (Hollis and Smith, 1990: 67). This means that science is not synonymous with positivism. This should have been the lesson drawn from developments within the philosophy of science. Yet the discipline seems tenaciously wedded to the idea that science is positivism (Nicholson, 1996a, 1996b, 2000; S. Smith, 1996). The term *post-positivist* is ambiguous as to whether it constitutes an outright rejection of positivism, an outright rejection of science, or a reformulation of the idea of science on the basis of new developments within the philosophy of science (Laudan, 1996). Indeed, many of the developments within the philosophy of science that deserve the label "post-positivist" are certainly not antiscience, although they may well be antipositivist (Bhaskar, 1978, 1986; Kuhn, 1962, 1970, 1982, 1990; Laudan, 1996). This opens up the possibility of a nonpositivist, yet still scientific IR; a science of IR, that is, that does not follow positivist principles. There is little doubt, however, that for many within the discipline a commitment to science still remains a commitment to positivism (Nicholson, 1996a, 1996b, 2000). Even Wendt, whilst advocating a scientific realist philosophy of science, can declare, "I am a strong believer in science... I am a 'positivist'" (Wendt, 1999: 39). This is an impossible position to hold. One cannot be both a scientific realist and a positivist; the two accounts of science are diametrically opposed on some very fundamental issues (Bhaskar, 1978; Feyerabend, 1981; Hollis, 1996). Positivism, in this sense, has lost all meaning. Indeed, the discipline's understanding of positivism seems a caricature of what is a very sophisticated, although in my opinion highly flawed, philosophy of science. This confusion surrounding the meaning of positivism threatens to destabilize any attempt to employ it (Nicholson, 1996a, 2000; S. Smith, 1996). Many seem to equate positivism with realist (in the philosophical sense) accounts of science (Campbell, 2001; George, 1994); or treat it as meaning any approach that relies on a belief in a "world out there" -- a form of philosophical realism (Campbell, 2001; George, 1994). However, Hollis argues that positivism, insofar as it is committed to an empiricist epistemology, is actually an antirealist (in the philosophical sense) philosophy (Hollis, 1996: 303; George also admits this, 1994: 53).^12^ There have been some serious attempts to clarify the content of positivism in the discipline (compare George, 1994; Hollis, 1996; Nicholson, 1996a, 1996b, 2000; S. Smith, 1996), but it is doubtful, given the disciplinary baggage surrounding the label, if there is anything to be gained from its continued deployment (Nicholson, 1996a, 1996b, 2000). Smith provides a good account but one that omits many of the most fundamental issues -- particularly positivism's commitment to a Humean account of cause; its antirealism and associated phenomenalism and instrumentalism; and the covering law model of explanation (S. Smith, 1996; see Kowlakowski, 1969, for a more in-depth account of positivism). All of this adds up to a very confused picture in terms of the philosophy of social science. IR has struggled to incorporate an increasingly diverse set of positions into its theoretical landscape. In general, the discipline has attempted to maintain an unsophisticated and outdated two-category framework based on the science/antiscience issue. The terminology of this framework may have changed, but ultimately contemporary disciplinary categories seem to be mirror images of Carr's distinction between science and "alchemy." Currently there are three continuums that the discipline seems to consider lining up in opposition to one another. The first of these is the explaining/understanding divide (Hollis and Smith, 1990). The second is the positivism/post-positivism divide (Lapid, 1989; Sylvester, 1993). The third is Keohane's distinction between rationalism and reflectivism (Keohane, 1989). The newly emerging constructivism claims the "middle ground" in between (Adler, 1997; Price and Reus-Smit, 1998; Wendt, 1999). This constitutes a field configured as in Figure 2.2. +-----------------------------------------------------------------------+ | +------------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | +-------------------+-------------------+-------------------+ | | | | | +--------------+ | +--------------+ | +--------------+ | | | | | | | Explanation | | | The Middle | | | Understandin | | | | | | | | | | | Ground | | | g | | | | | | | | = | | | | | | = | | | | | | | | | | | = | | | | | | | | | | | Positivism | | | | | | PostPositivi | | | | | | | | | | | Constructivi | | | sm | | | | | | | | = | | | sm? | | | | | | | | | | | | | +--------------+ | | = | | | | | | | | Rationalism | | | | | | | | | | | +--------------+ | | | Reflectivism | | | | | | | | | +--------------+ | | | | | +-------------------+-------------------+-------------------+ | | | +------------------------------------------------------------------+ | | | | **Figure 2.2 Contemporary IR.** | +-----------------------------------------------------------------------+ Another complicating factor is that of causation (Harré and Madden, 1975; Lerner, 1965; Suganami, 1996; Wright, 1974). Hollis and Smith ultimately reduce the distinction between explaining and understanding, and by implication positivism and post-positivism, to the issue of causation: "To understand is to reproduce order in the minds of actors; to explain is to find causes in the scientific manner" (Hollis and Smith, 1990: 87). This would suggest that all causal accounts are necessarily positivist. Indeed, David Campbell, in accepting the logic of this framework, argues: "I embrace the logic of interpretation that acknowledges the improbability of cataloguing, calculating and specifying the "'real causes'" (Campbell, 1992: 4). This seems to suggest that interpretative (understanding) accounts eschew causation. But what kind of causation is being rejected here? Hollis and Smith view cause in Humean positivist terms, whereas Campbell offers no explanation of what he means by "real causes" (Hollis and Smith, 1991: 407; 1994: 248--50). But just whom does the "we" refer to here? Setting this distinction in opposition to explanatory theory that attempts to explain international relations, we can presume that Smith means "we" IR theorists, not "we" members of society. But this seems implausible. It seems to suggest that "we" IR theorists make the world of international relations. On the other hand, if the point is simply that the world is socially constructed by the actors engaged in that world, then it would be difficult to find many social scientists who think otherwise (Holsti, 1998: 29; Searle, 1995). Even such a mainstream scholar as Kenneth Waltz accepts that the social world is socially constructed (Waltz, 1979: 48).^14^ It may well be that academic theories eventually filter down into society and fundamentally change it, but as yet, there is little to suggest that "we" are in a privileged enough position to say "we" IR theorists make the world we study. Wendt's reply to Smith on this issue seems basically sound, and even though social objects do not exist independently of the concepts agents have of them, they do exist "independent of the minds and bodies of the individuals who want to explain them" (Wendt, 1999: 75). Wendt rejects Smith's science/antiscience framing of this issue, and argues that both explanatory theory and constitutive theory transcend the natural-- social science divide (Wendt, 1999: 78; see Smith, 2000, for a reply). According to Wendt, constitutive theory is concerned with "how" social objects are constituted, and what "X" is (Wendt, 1999: 78). The issue of constitutive theory and explanatory theory is often linked to that of whether reasons can be causes (Hollis, 1994; Smith, 2000). This used to be a major issue of concern for the philosophy of social science (Winch, 1958, although compare Winch, 1990; Davidson, 1963; MacIntyre, 1973). Today the construal of reasons as causes is generally accepted as a necessary component of interpretative accounts. In general, understanding reasons as causes has come to be seen as necessary in order to preserve the difference between action and behavior (Bhaskar, 1979; Carlsnaes, 1986; Davidson, 1963). For if the reason for an act is not part of the causal complex responsible for the act, then the contrast drawn between an act and a bodily movement, upon which hermeneutic accounts insist, is negated; such as that for example, the difference between signaling to a friend (act), and scratching one's head (behavior), (Bhaskar, 1979: 169--95). The difference between a waving arm and signaling to a friend depends upon the possession, by an agent, of a *reason* to wave one's arm in that manner, namely, the desire to signal to a friend. In this respect, the desire to wave to one's friend can rightly be considered as part of the causal complex responsible for the waving of the arm in the appropriate manner (Carlsnaes, 1986; Patomäki, 1996). If reasons are stripped of their causal function, behavioralism beckons. Smith's rejection of reasons as causes is derived from his acceptance of a positivist account of cause. Winch accepted that his rejection of causal accounts in social explanations was based on a Humean/positivist account of cause, and that devoid of such an account causal talk was not only appropriate, but necessary for social explanation (Winch, 1990). Because of this, Wendt has suggested that Hollis and Smith's "two stories" thesis is "a legacy of positivist conceptions of explanation" (Wendt, 1991: 391). The explanatory/constitutive divide is linked to the rationalist/reflectivist dichotomy by a number of authors (Adler, 1997; Laffey and Weldes, 1997; S. Smith, 1996; Wendt, 1999). The division of the discipline into rationalist and reflectivist camps is generally attributed to Robert Keohane (Keohane, 1989), although in recent years it has played less of a role, with many within the discipline preferring to talk of a rationalist/constructivist divide. The original distinction was specifically formulated by Keohane to capture the difference between two approaches to international institutions, but the terms have rapidly come to signify two radically opposed approaches to the study of IR itself (Keohane, 1989; S. Smith, 1996; Wendt, 1992). According to Keohane, rationalists are theorists who accept what he calls a "substantive" conception of rationality. By this he means that behavior can be considered rational insofar as it can be adjudged objectively to be optimally adapted to the situation (Keohane, 1989: 160). Reflectivists, on the other hand, take a "sociological approach to the study of institutions" and stress the "role of impersonal social forces as well as the impact of cultural practices, norms, and values that are not derived from a calculation of interests" (Keohane, 1989: 160). Reflectivists emphasize "the importance of "inter-subjective meanings" of international institutional activity" (Keohane, 1989: 161). As formulated, this is an ontological difference, not an epistemological or methodological one. Keohane claims that the study of international politics will require both approaches if empirical research is not to suffer (Keohane, 1989: 161). Keohane's rationalist/reflectivist distinction can be understood as one in which rationalists focus their attention on how institutions function, whereas reflectivists are more interested in how institutions come into existence, how they are maintained, and how they vary across cultural and historical contexts (Keohane, 1989: 170). According to the reflectivist critique, rationalist theories are said to be onedimensional, static, universalistic, ahistorical, and decontextualized (Keohane, 1989: 170--3). Keohane acknowledges all of these limitations, yet argues against a wholesale rejection of rationalist approaches in favor of a broadening of the research agenda to incorporate reflectivist perspectives (Keohane, 1989: 171). This issue again is derivate of the science/ antiscience split. But there is simply no philosophy of science position that can legitimate this split. Positivists of all sorts of persuasion can legitimate analysis of ideational factors; it is how they treat them that matters (Haas, 1991: 190; Laffey and Weldes, 1997). Likewise, non-positivist philosophies of science and social science can privilege material factors (Marx, 1966). Of course, different theorists can focus their attention on these factors to varying degrees, but even in these instances this would be an ontological choice related to the object of inquiry, not one derived from an a priori commitment to some mythical epistemological position. If the difference between rationalists and reflectivists, or positivists and post-positivists, or even constructivists and rationalists, is based on the material versus ideational issue, then Keohane, given his claim that "institutions can be defined in terms of their rules," is not a rationalist or a positivist (Keohane, 1989: 163). There may, of course, be coherent ways in which these two claims can be reconciled, but this would require much greater conceptual clarity. Moreover, despite the commitment to objects external to thought, Campbell is still essentially advocating a form of philosophical idealism in tying the existence of those objects to discourses -- without humans, no discourses; without discourses, no objects -- in a sense, a version of positivism. To say more on the material/ideational issue within IR would confer on it a legitimacy that it clearly does not deserve. It does, however, demonstrate how the current way of framing the issues throws up such absurdities. There have, however, been emerging signs of a more nuanced treatment of many of the issues. For some, the age of "isms" seems to be over, if indeed it ever was a defining feature of the discipline (Reus-Smit and Snidal, 2008). While it is certainly the case that explicit debate about the relative merits of differing approaches no longer seems to dominate theoretical discussion, this does not mean that the divisions and cleavages have dissipated. In fact, theoretical fragmentation now seems deeply embedded within the field, and explicit attempts to build research programs across theoretical approaches are limited. The positivist mainstream approach largely located in the United States still dominates many of the major journals. Underpinning this approach is an almost universal acceptance of a Lakatosian framework (Elman and Elman, 2002; King, Keohane, and Verba, 1994). A notable exception to this is Chernoff, who has vigorously advanced conventionalism as an alternative underpinning for contemporary positivism (Chernoff, 2006, 2009b). Scientific realism still remains an important alternative to positivism that that generates considerable attention, but it is still not clear how this approach fundamentally changes the nature of research practice. However, the scientific realists have made a strong case for placing ontology at the forefront of research, and this does seem to be a general trend replicated across the social sciences more generally (Glynos and Howarth, 2007; De Landa, 2006; Wight, 2006; Jackson, 2010). Yet this appeal to ontology has not gone unchallenged, and the positivist mainstream still remains generally skeptical of ontological discussion of any kind, viewing it largely an issue of metaphysics, not science (Chernoff, 2009a). Yet the scientific realist claim that researchers should treaty their theoretical posits as "real" has been rejected by many. Various forms of pragmatism have been articulated which attempt to sidestep altogether the issues of whether theoretical terms actually refer to anything real. According to the pragmatists, the discipline should eschew the epistemological angst that seems to have characterized this field since the post-positivist turn and orient itself towards the study of "practices and problematic situations" (Bauer and Brigi, 2007; 2). This has led to something of a practice turn in IR (Adler and Pouliot, forthcoming), which links to the "relationalism" advocated by Jackson and Nexon (1999). At the heart of all these new approaches is an explicit commitment to generate cross-theoretical conversations in an attempt to deal with the fragmentation that seems to have infected the discipline since the post-positivist turn. An alternative view, however, has been advanced by Monteiro and Ruby (2009), who suggest that the philosophy of social science and the philosophy of science in IR have had a negative impact on the development of the discipline and that the attempt to ground the discipline in secure foundations is a mistake. In many respects, Monteiro and Ruby ultimately end up endorsing a form of pragmatism, so despite their critique of the philosophy of science, it plays a role nonetheless. Their piece led to the publication of a forum in the same journal debating the question "Who needs the philosophy of science anyway" (International Theory, 2009). Despite the many differences among them, the contributors to the forum all essentially agree that despite the many problems that have emerged in debates surrounding the philosophy of science, it is an indispensable aspect of what the discipline does. One of the contributors to the forum, Patrick Jackson, has published a sophisticated account that attempts to map a new framework for understanding the cleavages surrounding this issue (Jackson, 2010). CONCLUSION ---------- Mervyn Frost once declared IR the "backward discipline" (Frost, 1986). It was "backward," he argued, due to a lack of self-conscious reflection concerning its analytical and research endeavors (Frost, 1986: 39). On these grounds, IR can hardly be considered "backward" today. However, it would be a mistake to consider that self-reflection necessarily constitutes progress. It may be that Holsti's characterization of the discipline as "dividing" is a more accurate description (Holsti, 1985). And even then there is the difficult question of where the dividing lines are and whether division is something the discipline desires? When positivism dominated the philosophy of science, the choice for the discipline was simple, but stark. Either science, or not science; which effectively translated into "positivism or perish." When the positivist orthodoxy began to crumble, hopes were high for a more pluralistic IR: one less grounded in austere visions of a deterministic science and one much more amenable to the introduction of alternative patterns of thought. Is this where we are today? NOTES ----- 1. Throughout this chapter, the abbreviation IR refers to the institutionalized academic discipline of international relations. 2. The problem of "naturalism" is concerned with the extent to which society can be studied in the same way as nature (Bhaskar, 1979: 1). 3. Again, subsumed under this question are a range of issues relating to the nature of the entities; for example, what is a "person"; the collective action problem; the nature of social structures, and so on. 4. Although this debate was labeled the agent--structure debate, it has been argued that this was simply a different terminology for what used to be called the individual/society problem, or the macro/ micro problem. However, although these problems are related, there are good grounds for considering them as distinct problems (see Layder, 1994). 5. Figure 2.1 is said to represent four possible positions that can be taken when the problem of naturalism is combined with the agent--structure problem. The top left box, where explanation meets structure, can be understood as a scientific approach to social study that concentrates its attention on structural forces. The bottom left box (explanation and agents) represents a scientific approach focusing on agents. The boxes on the right-hand side of the diagram represent a nonscientific approach to social study (hermeneutics perhaps), which, of course, can either focus on structural factors (top right) or agential ones (bottom right). 6. Positivism as a philosophy of science. There are many versions of positivism and much that divides those who claim to be positivists. However, these caveats aside, positivism can be characterized in the following manner. i. Phenomenalism: the doctrine that holds that we cannot get beyond the way things appear to us and thereby obtain reliable knowledge of reality -- in other words, appearances, not realities, are the only objects of knowledge. ii. Nominalism: the doctrine that there is no objective meaning to the words we use -- words and concepts do not pick out any actual objects or universal aspects of reality, they are simply conventional symbols or names that we happen to use for our own convenience. iii. Cognitivism: the doctrine that holds that no cognitive value can be ascribed to value judgments and normative statements. iv. Naturalism: the belief that there is an essential unity of scientific method such that the social sciences can be studied in the same manner as natural science (see Kolakowski, 1969). From these philosophical assumptions, most positivists adhere to the following beliefs about the practice of science: (1) The acceptance of the "covering law" model of explanation (often referred to as the D--N model). (2) An instrumentalist treatment of theoretical terms. Theoretical terms do not refer to real entities, but such entities are to be understood "as if" they existed in order to explain the phenomena. (3) A commitment to the Humean account of cause. To say that event *a* necessitated event *b* need say no more than when *a* occurred, so did *b*. This leads to causal laws being interpreted as "constant conjunctions." (4) A commitment to operationalism, which entails that the concepts of science be operationalized -- that they be defined by, and their meaning limited to, the concrete operations used in their measurement. 7. My analysis is an Anglo-American perspective on the issues, and it might be argued that Continental European IR would address the issues in a different manner. However, many of the antiscience positions that I address in this chapter take their inspiration from German idealism, and in this respect, one could argue that the underlying issues are the same even if the terms of debate might differ (see Jørgenson, 2000). 8. It is important to maintain the distinctions between ontology, epistemology, and methodology. *Ontology*, in the philosophy of science and the philosophy of social science, is used to refer to the set of things whose existence is claimed, or acknowledged, by a particular theory or system of thought: it is in this sense that one speaks of "the ontology of a theory." The term *epistemology* comes from the Greek word *epistêmê*, meaning knowledge. In simple terms, epistemology is the philosophy of knowledge or of how we come to know. *Methodology* is also concerned with how we come to know, but is much more practical in nature. Methodology is focused on the specific ways -- the methods -- that we can use to try to understand our world better. Epistemology and methodology are intimately related: the former involves the *philosophy* of how we come to know the world and the latter involves the *practice*. 9. Logical positivism was a school of philosophy founded in Vienna during the 1920s by a group of scientists, mathematicians, and philosophers known as the Vienna Circle. The logical positivists made a concerted effort to clarify the language of science by showing that the content of scientific theories could be reduced to truths of logic and mathematics coupled with propositions referring to sense experience. Members of the group shared a distaste for metaphysical speculation and considered metaphysical claims about reality to be meaningless. For the logical positivists, only two forms of knowledge were valid: that based on reason and that based on experience. 10. There is no easy definition of scientific realism. However, within the philosophy of science, scientific realism has been the dominant alternative to positivism. Scientific realism rejects the tenets of positivism outlined in notes 7 and 12. They claim that explanation in both the natural and social sciences should entail going beyond simply demonstrating that phenomena are instances of some observed regularity, and uncovering the underlying and often-invisible mechanisms that causally connect them. Frequently, this means postulating the existence of unobservable phenomena and processes that are unfamiliar to us. Realists believe that only by doing this will it be possible to get beyond the mere "appearance" of things to deeper forms of explanation. 11. Understanding why positivism came to be referred to as an epistemology is a simple task once one understands the manner in which logical positivism claimed only scientific knowledge could be considered real knowledge (a position few positivists would hold today; Nicholson, 1996a). 12. Empiricism is the philosophical belief that all knowledge is ultimately based on experience, that is, information received through the senses. It is opposed to rationalism and denies that we have any a priori knowledge or innate ideas: we owe all our concepts to experience of the world. Rationalism is the opposite epistemological position that claims that reason rather than sense-experience is the foundation of certainty in knowledge (Aune, 1970). 13. 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