Richard Smith

Jonathan Dancy’s Ethics Without Principles (Oxford, Clarendon Press, 2004) presents the fullest account of the moral particularism for which its author is well known. Moral particularism, for Dancy, is the view that there is little if any place in the moral life for moral principles, that moral judgement does not need to appeal to them, and that ‘there is no essential link between being a full moral agent and having principles’ (p. 1). We need an account of moral thinking which allows for moral conflict: the idea that moral thinking consists essentially in subsuming particular cases under a universal principle implies that the agent who thinks she is confronted by conflicting reasons is simply in error, since she has not found the relevant universal principle. And this seems wrong. Roughly similar considerations apply to the idea of regret. When I face a dilemma such that the consequences of whichever path I do not take seem bound to haunt me, the ‘subsumption’ view of principles entails that ‘there was no reason to do the other thing at all, since only one principle applied to the case, and it was decisive, and the only reasons around were those which depend for their existence on that principle’ (p. 4). Thus Dancy seeks, in Aristotelian fashion, to save the phenomena: conflict and regret just are part of our moral lives. Principles do not work in our moral deliberation in the way that their supporters think they do; and they may often cause us to fail to attend to the particularity of moral phenomena.

It is remarkable just how often philosophy of education assumes the school or, occasionally, the university as its context. There is very little philosophical work on vocational training or workplace learning; perhaps this is the legacy of an older generation of theorists who assumed that training was somehow inferior to education, and thus automatically beneath notice. Life, Work and Learning: practice in postmodernity, by David Beckett and Paul Hager (Routledge, 2002), is therefore to be welcomed as one of the few texts now offering philosophical discussion of this important area. Beckett and Hager describe themselves as ‘strategic postmodernists’, by which they mean that they do not want to jettison the insights into workplace learning offered by modernist writers, while at the same time they believe modernism itself needs to be held up for scrutiny.

Much current educational research shows the influence of two powerful but potentially pernicious lines of thought. The first, which can be traced at least as far back as Francis Bacon, is the ambition to formulate precise techniques of research, or ‘research methods’, which can be applied reliably irrespective of the talent of the researcher. The second is the recognition that in the social sciences we—humankind—are ourselves the objects of our study. The first line of thought threatens to cut educational research free of the wider range of ideas and theories that should govern or at least inform it. The second tends to turn it into an absorption with self, particularly when allied to what its practitioners like to think of as the postmodern turn.

Education in the west has become a very knowing business in which students are encouraged to cultivate self-awareness and meta-cognitive skills in pursuit of a kind of perfection. The result is the evasion of contingency and of the consciousness of human finitude. The neo-liberalism that makes education a market good exacerbates this. These tendencies can be interpreted as a dimension of scepticism. This is to be dissolved partly by acknowledging that we are obscure to ourselves. Such an acknowledgement is fostered by the mythic dimension of experience, which also recommends a degree of humility to the citizens of democratic states.

It is remarkable just how often philosophy of education assumes the school or, occasionally, the university as its context. There is very little philosophical work on vocational training or workplace learning; perhaps this is the legacy of an older generation of theorists who assumed that training was somehow inferior to education, and thus automatically beneath notice. Life, Work and Learning: practice in postmodernity, by David Beckett and Paul Hager (Routledge, 2002), is therefore to be welcomed as one of the few texts now offering philosophical discussion of this important area. Beckett and Hager describe themselves as ‘strategic postmodernists’, by which they mean that they do not want to jettison the insights into workplace learning offered by modernist writers, while at the same time they believe modernism itself needs to be held up for scrutiny.

In his writings Jim Marshall has helpfully emphasized such Wittgensteinian themes as the multiplicity of language games, the deconstruction of ‘certainty,’ and the contexts of power that underlie discursive systems. Here we focus on another important legacy of Wittgenstein's thinking: his insistence that human activity is rule‐governed. This idea foregrounds looking carefully at the world of education and learning, as against the empirical search for new psychological or other facts. It reminds us that we need to consider, in Peter Winch's words, ‘what it makes sense to say’ about certain educational phenomena, and how these meanings stand against understanding a wider form of life. This insight has important implications for doing educational research, and we examine some of these.

This book evaluates the increasingly wide variety of intellectual resources for research methods and methodologies and investigates what constitutes good educational research. Written by a distinguished international group of philosophers of education Questions what sorts of research can usefully inform policy and practice, and what inferences can be drawn from different kinds of research Demonstrates the critical engagement of philosophers of education with the wider educational research community and illustrates the benefits that can accrue from such engagement

This is the second of two Special Issues, the first of which appeared as Volume 40, Issue 2 of this year. In the first Issue, our contributors were particularly inclined to question two assumptions that colour thinking about educational research. The first is that educational research is essentially a ‘scientific’ exercise, reaching its apogee in randomised control trials, as if medical research were the ideal to which all other kinds of research should attempt to measure up, and as if education were a process largely analogous to that of administering drugs in order to enhance performance. The second, related assumption is that educational research is to be understood as, at heart, a matter of discovering ‘what works’. This is the background—also explored in other recent publications such as Smeyers and Depaepe (2006)—against which this second Special Issue should be seen.

_Education Policy_ sees 12 philosophers of education critique current and recent UK educational policies relating to higher education and faith-based education, assessment, the teaching of reading, vocational and civic education, teacher education, the influence of Europe and the idea of the ‘Big Society’. Twelve philosophers of education subject elements of current and recent UK educational policy to critique Forthright and critical, the contributors are unafraid to challenge current orthodoxies Offers thought-provoking insights into modern education policy Wide-ranging topics cover higher education and faith-based education, assessment, the teaching of reading, vocational and civic education, teacher education, the influence of Europe and the idea of the ‘Big Society’

There is a longstanding difficulty in distinguishing philosophy (and philosophy of education) from other kinds of writing. Even the notions of clarity and rigour, sometimes claimed as central and defining characteristics of philosophy at its best, turn out to have ineliminably figurative elements, and accounts of philosophical method often display the very rhetoricity that they describe philosophy as concerned to avoid. It is tempting to wonder how far notions of philosophy as austere and analytic are responsible for ideals of educational research as unnaturally tidy and formal, and even for conceptions of the practice of education in schools and universities as focused on targets, performance indicators and statistics. Perhaps the nature of philosophy is best understood through its history. Then the philosopher must “go to school” not only with the poets, but also with the historians, so that the disciplinary divisions here become ever harder to mark out, to the enrichment of those who practise them.