Even if one thinks, like Jeffrey Alexander, that globalisation is merely “an incremental change in scale” rather than “a change of exponential magnitude”^{Footnote 1} it should be acknowledged that an important task for sociology is to understand how the intensification of exchanges at the global level influences the production, dissemination and implementation of knowledge. Michael D. Kennedy, professor of sociology and international studies at Brown University, takes on the topic in his new book.

After conceding that “globalizing knowledge” is a “terrible notion” [9], due to the polysemous and disputed meaning of both terms, Kennedy defends its use on the basis that it is “inescapable in these times” [9], because it refers to “a critical dynamic,” central to the “good of the world” [35-36]. According to Kennedy, globalizing knowledge “refers to the process by which distant regions’ knowledgeabilities are implicated in the particular cultures fusing those understandings” [9]. The sociology of globalizing knowledge is thus concerned with the “conditions, manners and implications of that fusion” [9]. What are these “knowledgeabilities?” Certainly he does not limit knowledge to the classical definition of what is considered justified true belief, since he includes in his account the discourses and works produced by social movements, artists and political leaders. In effect, Kennedy affirms that the view of knowledge as the result of a detached stance, a theoretical attitude towards the world proper of those who, in the terms of Lewis Coser, live “for” rather than “off” ideas, is a “narrow definition of knowledge in the world” [8], to which the author prefers a less exclusive view: on the one hand what is considered knowledge is the result of struggles and power relations and, on the other, the culture and discourses of social movements and groups “without privileged access to education, power, and wealth” [12] should be considered as a legitimate form of knowledge.

Kennedy then breaks the subject down by stating that his book “is about how different kinds of knowledge actors––intellectuals and knowledge institutions and networks––shape, and are shaped by, the mediations of various global flows and contexts through their various professional and public engagements” [10]. Structurally, the book reflects this breakdown, with three chapters devoted to “knowledge actors,” i.e., intellectuals, universities and knowledge networks, and a further three chapters devoted to the things “mediating knowledge practices and products” [25], i.e., publics, contexts and flows.

Considering the first type of actor, Kennedy regrets that sociologists are more interested nowadays in knowledge networks, fields and institutions rather than intellectuals as such, neglecting the problem of intellectual responsibility. According to Kennedy, a sociology of intellectuals should be chiefly interested in answering the question: “who is intellectually responsible, and why?” (xviii) and this is one of his main objectives in Globalizing Knowledge. Of course, Kennedy acknowledges that such a question has a strong normative character, “for invocations of intellectual distinction carry judgments of quality and integrity” [40]. Autonomy and truthfulness are important qualities, Kennedy argues, but in order to be really responsible, an intellectual ought to be “consequential”, even at the cost of losing some of his autonomy to mass media and political movements. In effect, “intellectuals, if they are to have social consequence, cannot remain apart from power” [43]. Following a script—as we shall see—repeated every chapter, Kennedy sets out a series of virtuous examples; in this case, of responsible intellectuals. These are Vaclav Havel, Ricardo Lagos and Ashraf Ghani. Kennedy presents the main achievements of the three figures and lists the actions and works that identify them as responsible and consequential: roughly, although all of them have occupied positions of power (all have been or are heads of state), they pursued the public good through their practice, from the free-trade policies implemented by Lagos in Chile to the National Solidarity Program designed by Ghani in Afghanistan, and the speeches of Havel in favour of European integration.

Kennedy then scrutinises universities and similar knowledge institutions. Numerous questions guide his examination: for example, Kennedy asks if the recent transformation of universities, through globalisation, marks the victory of specialist technicians or if “intellectuality” still has a place. His diagnosis of the main changes affecting higher education and universities is based on some authoritative sources and are well-known: the increasing importance of global rankings, higher tuition fees, increased enrolment of international students, greater inequality between universities, big science, fading of the public/private distinction, etc. Kennedy then analyses some branches of universities, such as area studies, professional schools and art schools and assesses how they can respond to the challenges of globalisation. As in the preceding chapter, the analysis takes the form of a series of exemplary institutions that have responded successfully to the challenges, most of them based on Kennedy’s direct experience at the University of Michigan. He tells us that the creation of the position of vice provost for international affairs at that university (a post Kennedy held) provided “an opportunity to enhance both area and global studies simultaneously” [93] by improved coordination of different fields and interdisciplinary exchange. The festival “Celebrating St. Petersburg,” held at the University of Michigan to celebrate the city’s three hundredth anniversary, with performances by Russian artists, an exhibition and symposia, “helped Americans understand better their own heritage” [108] and radiated “Russian cultural brilliance” [108]. All these examples are offered to “highlight possibilities emerging from within and across disciplinary and professional knowledge cultures” [115], and they exemplify a potential university that is not merely a sum of “bands of expertise” [117].

Networks are the third and last of the actors globalizing knowledge. They differ “ontologically” [228] from knowledge institutions because they are “emergent”, more ephemeral and based on a “much more voluntary” commitment [229]. Since networks can be designed rationally they have greater “transformative power” [261], whereas reforms in large and old institutions are usually slow and troublesome. The main focus of the chapter is on a typology of knowledge networks distinguished by capital—either financial or intellectual—and the type of knowledge they produce—either reflexive or interested. Thus, the Social Science Research Council, a network comprising mostly universities, produces reflexive knowledge and is knowledge capital-resourced; the World Economic Forum, which includes representatives of firms, civil society and states, produces interested knowledge and is finance capital-resourced; the World Social Forum, comprising intellectuals and representatives of civil society, with a leftist agenda, produces interested knowledge and is knowledge capital-resourced; finally, the Open Society Foundation, created by George Soros, with programs that fund promising researchers in Central and Eastern Europe, produces reflexive knowledge and is finance capital-resourced.

Concerning the notion of public, Kennedy espouses the ideas of Jürgen Habermas and Michael Burawoy, defining it as “a secondary association formed by the communicative practices that constitute it, not derived from anything preformed” [25], and relates publics to “civil society,” a social entity opposed to markets and states. As a case study of a public, Kennedy analyses Occupy Wall Street and its international branch, generally known as the Occupy movement. He draws mainly on Occupy Nation, by Todd Gitlin (a writer and activist who has been “extensively engaged with Occupy” [122]), which he calls “a remarkable step forward in transformational sociology” [122]. This sociology is “transformational” because Gitlin does not just “point to limitations but also recognize[s] achievements and, by extension, potentials” in the movement [123]. Anyone perplexed by so many pages on a social movement in a book on the globalisation of knowledge, should bear in mind Kennedy’s assertion that Occupy was “an exceptionally knowledgeable movement, innovative in practice, in concept, and perhaps in consequence” [126], and spread globally. Concerning the “knowledgeability” of the movement, Kennedy writes that “many individual faculty and students became an important part of Occupy knowledge production and dissemination” [127]. Nevertheless, Occupy was not created by intellectuals, “the movement instead transformed them” [126], developing an “intellectuality” less focused on official recognition than on being really “consequential.” In addition, the movement set up some libraries and held numerous discussions on inequality of access to education. As for the globalizing dimension of Occupy, Kennedy presents a map of the world filled with small dots representing the 1,039 movements that took place in 87 countries, and briefly recalls demonstrations in Spain and other European countries.

Kennedy then turns his attention to context. What seems to interest him is not so much how local contexts shape different kinds of knowledge, but the fact that “some contexts are recognized and thus validated […] more than others” [156]. And since all contexts produce some form of knowledge, Kennedy adds that “knowledges are […] unevenly recognized” [158]. He is quick to point out, however, that he does not simply want to understand how these inequalities of recognition operate: he wants to “work to change those inequalities” [157]. Following Michael Burawoy, he thus urges scholars to “provincialize” American sociology, which continues to be ethnocentric. To assess these inequalities, Kennedy examines how often three countries (Poland, Kosovo and Afghanistan) appear in leading English-language social science journals, using the jstor advanced search function. Thus we discover that since 1980 anthropology and sociology journals have paid little attention to the three countries and that, on the contrary, journals dealing with international relations have been quite attentive to Kosovo and Afghanistan in the last three decades. Kennedy finds these results quite astonishing and states that the neglect of these countries “has been a loss for globalizing knowledge” [193]. As proof, he lists a number of social phenomena in these countries, neglected by social scientists: for example, various innovative Kosovar civil society movements that sought to develop a parallel society beyond official Serb-controlled state structures. Once again, Kennedy draws on the writings of an activist, whose “identification with Kosovar Albanians is apparent” [177], to analyse these social movements.

Concerning flows, Kennedy affirms that, in a globalizing society, the “global culture industry” [197] creates flows of images, symbols and knowledge which spread and “potentially extend solidarity for others and their struggles” [197]. Here, the main theoretical reference is Manuel Castells, with whom Kennedy shares the optimism regarding the possibilities provided by a tightly connected society: “in the world of flows”, indeed, “transformations are more than ever possible. And necessary” [220]. To show the importance of these flows, Kennedy discusses Pussy Riot, a Russian feminist protest group. When three performers of the group were sentenced to two years in prison in 2012, many prominent public figures, especially artists, expressed solidarity, some criticising the Russian authorities, thereby fostering awareness of the case. But without “global media” [202] and information flows, their engagement would not have been as “consequential.” Indeed, Kennedy affirms that the Pussy Riot case was a significant blow to Russian political and religious powers, but adds that contesting power is not always easy. To support this, he analyses debates on energy production and transport, pointing to powerful actors and institutions that surround themselves with experts to create justifications that are aimed at countering or preventing criticism. Kennedy does not believe this is inevitable, citing the example of a virtuous knowledge actor—the Oxford Institute for Energy Studies—which tries to articulate “knowledge and public good” [220] in relation to energy questions. In addition, he believes that the revolution in information technology has given global civil society the tools to counter these justifications and challenge the experts put up by corporations and states.

In the final and longest chapter Kennedy elaborates on the “frames” and “cultural formations” that should guide knowledge actors who care for the public good. Concretely, he describes how intellectuals react to globalisation and to “the crisis of our time” [273]. These include theoreticians, “the scholar explaining what is really going on and what really needs to be done” [284], practical intellectuals, “enmeshed in moving their intellectualities to practice” [284], and “rearticulating” intellectuals, who seek to bring together a variety of diverse struggles giving shape to a global social movement, and manage dialectically to “share a common commitment to rearticulation in both theory and practice” [285]. Moreover, some intellectuals are more “system” oriented, i.e. they “search within the constraints of the system the best paths to move ahead” [284], while others are more “movement” oriented, i.e. they stand with revolutionary movements that pursue a radical transformation of the system. Kennedy analyses some recent social movements that in his opinion “signal a new kind of cosmopolitanism cresting the world of flows and an emergent intellectuality that rides its current” [288]: the protests against acta (Anti-Counterfeiting Trade Agreement) that took place in Europe in 2012 and Euromaidan, a wave of demonstrations held in Ukraine in 2013-2014. Kennedy sees both movements as promising, innovative and consequential, potentially inspiring other social movements to develop a “cosmopolitan intellectuality”—international connections grounded on the sharing of information and culture—and a “consequential solidarity”—roughly, the willingness to bear the burden of others in the struggle. In this respect, intellectuals have a role to play: they can intensify cosmopolitan connections with their global networks, and increase solidarity between protesters by defining “radically different movements and struggles as one and the same” [309]. In Globalizing Knowledge, Kennedy has done exactly this, by comparing diverse social movements like Occupy Wall Street, Pussy Riot, Euromaidan, the anti-acta protests and many others.

There are several important theoretical assumptions in Kennedy’s sociology that I find problematic. Of course, Kennedy is clear about his assumptions and where he stands in many contemporary debates. However, the implications of his theoretical choices are not always acknowledged. I outline three, necessarily interrelated, but distinguishable for reasons of clarity.

Firstly, Kennedy tends to disregard detachment and to care disproportionately for involvement, obliterating any distinction between the social scientist and his subject. Kennedy concedes the point when he writes that he conceives of his role “in much the same terms as Trotsky considered his: as being part of a movement while at the same time trying to elaborate its theory and practice so that it would realize more of its critical potential” [253]. This stance has substantial implications in the book. Kennedy’s personal experience abounds in Globalizing Knowledge, and many of the accounts of knowledge networks, universities and publics seem to be related in one way or another to activities he has been involved with not primarily as a scholar but as an administrator, employee or militant: the University of Michigan, where Kennedy taught before his appointment at Brown University, is frequently mentioned as a virtuous example of “publicness” and responsibility; as is the ezine Jadaliyya, an “exceptional new intellectual network” [58], for which he wrote several articles; he is a member of the Executive Committee of the Social Science Research Council; he participated as a “facilitator” in a meeting of the World Economic Forum; he received funding from the Open Society Foundations for many years via the Academic Fellowship Program, “a project of terrific consequence” [254]; he wrote the introduction to Next Left: Building New Communities, a book published by a think tank (financed by the Party of European Socialists) whose merits he discusses at length in Globalizing Knowledge; and the list could go on. Of course, drawing inspiration and collecting data from personal experience, professional situations and public interventions is a legitimate approach in social sciences. In critical discussion what really matters is not where ideas come from (the “context of discovery,” in philosophy of science vocabulary) but how they are defended (the “context of justification”). However, the way experience is handled does matter, and there is much to be done in order to avoid bias and eulogy. Yet Kennedy does not discuss the methodological problems associated with his practice and does not offer the reader any countermeasure against potential bias. A telling example? The map representing the spread of the Occupy movement, surely not a negligible detail in a book about globalisation. Kennedy entitles the map “Global distribution of Occupy protests, 2011.” However, the map was drawn by members of the movement, comes with the caption “THE WORLD HAS SPOKEN,” does not provide any information on the number of protesters represented by each dot and its internet source is no longer available. In spite of all this, Kennedy states that “the digital imagery of this movement may be just as important as more familiar sociological data” [121], without mentioning the possibility that the movement may be interested in presenting itself as more successful than it actually is. One wonders if Kennedy uses the map to provide solid and reliable data, or as a pretext to reaffirm the doctrine that insider knowledge is possible and desirable. More generally, the fact that he writes so often of personal experience results in a description of events that are highly idiographic and anecdotal. Another example is Kennedy’s account of a meeting of the World Economic Forum (which he attended), which sheds little light on the functioning of the organisation and is replete with vague reminiscences such as: “the elite emphasis was there, to some degree” [245]. This woolliness seems to be the inevitable consequence of a research practice that disregards any form of procedural method and protocol in favour of unmediated exposure to the fullness of reality. Kennedy offers the reader a multitude of case studies in which he is directly involved in one way or another, and does not take adequate countermeasures to avoid bias and self-praise. The result is mainly an impressionistic and idealised description of his subjects.

My second objection relates to Kennedy’s tendency to praise virtuous actors and institutions. Here again, he is unrepentant, often insisting on the need to “recognize intellectual distinction” [40], to “recognize [the] achievements” of social movements [123], and to “recognize efforts” [80]. He comes across as extremely concerned that efforts and accomplishments be adequately acknowledged. (Curiously, while praise comes thick and fast, irresponsible actors, and critiques of them, are practically absent.) One consequence is the countless lists of virtuous examples that fill the book. Take the portraits of the three responsible intellectuals. The register Kennedy adopts is closer to that of the panegyric than to socio-analysis: the three individuals are all “exceptionally energetic, profoundly dedicated, and remarkably aware of the circumstances, and they embody what it means to be a critical intellectual engaging, not only opposing, power” [73]. For Havel, Kennedy points to “his commitment to living in truth” [64], with Lagos he glorifies his “living in truth, speaking truthfully” [68], and the “intellectual agility, depth, and networks,” the “sincerity” and the “accessibility” [68], over Ghani he waxes lyrical as “one of the most intellectual of political leaders in the world today” [69]. I would not know where to begin to assess the statement that Vaclav Havel was committed to living in truth. But that is precisely the point: sociology should not deal in ambiguous and empty proclamations. This praising sociology has other implications too. One is the excessive trust Kennedy affords actors’ discourses and justifications: presenting a virtuous example of a responsible institution or network, Kennedy often simply rehashes the self-description of the institute published on its website as a sort of proof that the institute is really doing what its members claim. Another example is what may be called dialectic typologies, in which the third element (such as “articulating” intellectuals) is a normative ideal that should be followed in order to transcend the two opposing elements (“theoretical” and “practical” intellectuals), thus resolving the contradiction: once again, Kennedy is pleading a case.

My third criticism is Kennedy’s tendency to stress the importance of ends rather than causes, contingency rather than necessity, “don’t have to” rather than “is.” He explicitly asserts this throughout the book and alludes to Williams Sewell’s notion of eventful sociology and to the “new sociology of ideas”^{Footnote 2} to strengthen his position. The vocabulary and tone deployed reflect this conception. Transformations are “more than ever possible” [220], knowledge networks have “terrific potential consequence” [329], the concentration of knowledge wealth in 1 pert cent of universities “is not necessary” [155], the actions of intellectuals “could have been different” [329]. Moreover, references to crisis, emergency and discontinuity come a plenty, and at times the register morphs into the prophetic: “as I write, the world is in immediate crisis” [xv], “the crisis of our time” [273], “since 2011, we can see a new kind of intellectuality emergent” [269], “these eventful years of 2011-2013” [285], “these times of radical transformations” [284]. The implications of this stance are easy to imagine: in the case of the three responsible intellectuals, the reader is almost never offered an explanation of why certain choices were made (rather than others), how Vaclav Havel became Vaclav Havel, what made him a responsible and “consequential” intellectual. Kennedy simply provides a biographical sketch with the main achievements of the three figures and lists their actions and works, identifying them as responsible and consequential. Doubtless the question Kennedy addresses—“who is intellectually responsible, and why?” [xviii]—is not meant in the classical sense within a philosophy of science tradition, namely, as the search for a causal explanation of an enigma. Doubtless, too, Kennedy prefers contingency and potentialities to necessity and causes because stating the genesis of a social movement, the motives that drive individuals to join it, the causes of its victories and defeats, implicitly undermines it. As Robert K. Merton famously pointed out, this is the result of the scepticism intrinsic in scientific practice, and it does not matter if “logically, to establish the empirical genesis of beliefs and values is not to deny their validity,” because “this is often the psychological effect on the naïve mind.”^{Footnote 3} By insisting on possibility rather than necessity, Kennedy wants to defend the sacredness of the movements he is writing about from scientific iconoclasm. I am reminded of Michel Foucault, another advocate of contingency, and his words written shortly after the Iranian Revolution: “the man who rises up is ultimately without explanation”. Instead of looking for “profound reasons of the movement” one should “be respectful when a singularity rises up.”^{Footnote 4}

My three-pronged criticism is aimed essentially at Kennedy’s preference for the practical consequences of his work over the need to provide robust explanation of puzzling phenomena. Of course, Kennedy would probably reply to this formulation that he cares for both theory and practice, but this is precisely what I am pointing to: according to his view, there is no fundamental contradiction, no trade-off between changing the world and interpreting it. This conviction drives Kennedy’s sense of the importance of involvement: only an insider of social movements and institutions can develop theories that are relevant and useful in fostering their objectives. Moreover, only the insider can be a spokesperson for these collective actors and make them visible to public opinion. Hence the praise meted out in abundance: Kennedy rewards exemplary intellectuals and institutions with symbolic recognition in order to encourage people and administrations to follow the example, leading—hopefully—to the outcomes he seeks. Finally, a sociologist who stresses that nothing is inevitable, that much can be done and that the times are changing, is inviting people to rise up and overcome the limits imposed by supposedly objective constraints.

Kennedy’s book is additional confirmation that this conviction is detrimental to sociology if we understand that discipline as an activity devoted to the understanding of social phenomena. Instead of praising Émile Zola and blaming Maurice Barrès, and instead of inciting their readers to act like Émile Zola, sociologists should provide robust explanations of why Zola and Barrès acted and thought as they did. Granted, this is a normative statement, and I acknowledge that it cannot be grounded on such matters as empirical evidence, reason, or the “very nature” of science. But in pointing out what happens when it is neglected, I hope to have clarified what is at stake in a decision every sociologist has to make.