This books strives to provide a prescription for the popular diagnosis that the social sciences have fallen vastly short of their Enlightenment ambition to emulate the methodology (and success) of the natural sciences. That the social sciences have failed to achieve even a modicum of actual knowledge about the underlying causes of human behavior over the past 200 years, the author seems to take for granted. Given this alleged failure, he then offers a way out—that the social sciences should reformulate themselves on the basis of Aristotle's notion of “phronesis,” as a practical guide to political and social debate, rather than as a self-conscious attempt to acquire “episteme,” or scientific knowledge, about the causes of human behavior.
The book is divided into two parts: in part one the author seeks to establish that the “scientistic” model of social science is doomed to failure. In part two, he seeks to show that the “phronetic” model is a superior alternative. Flyvbjerg explains that phronesis is variously translated as prudence or practical wisdom. Aristotle defined it as a “true state, reasoned, and capable of action with regard to things that are good or bad for man.” Flyvbjerg largely accepts this definition, and explains that “phronesis goes beyond both analytical, scientific knowledge (episteme) and technical knowledge or know-how (techne) and involves judgements and decisions made in the manner of a virtuoso social and political actor.” Social science, in other words, must be inextricably linked to social practice.
The problem with this view isn't that the prescription offered is incoherent or even that it would require jettisoning well over half of what we currently consider to be social science. The book is very readable and, even when it discusses the most opaque philosophers, it is relatively clear. The author's alternative, moreover, has considerable appeal when applied to those areas of social science that are more historical and qualitative, which the author illustrates with numerous examples and well-chosen case studies. Rather, the problem with this book is found at the beginning, in the diagnosis of the current condition of social science. For, until this is established, the attractiveness of any sort of “phronetic” revolution in the social sciences remains in doubt.
Here one needs to examine the author's argument for his central claim that modern social science will never achieve its scientific aspirations. This argument is largely confined to page 32, where Flyvbjerg makes the statement that “[a]fter more than 200 years of attempts, one could reasonably expect that there would exist at least a sign that social science has moved in the desired direction, that is, toward predictive theory. It has not.” Later, on page 46, the author admits that this surely is no “proof” for his proposition that social science could never be explanatory or predictive. But, he argues, it makes it overwhelmingly likely that he is right.
The dangers of such a lax and intuitive dismissal of what is conceded to be the primary motivating methodology for modern social science are legion and there have been book length accounts of the shortcomings of this kind of argument. Surely one problem is the ignorance that this kind of claim shows for the history of the natural sciences. Does the author forget that medicine, for instance, only evolved out of its scholastic trappings to become a truly empirical science in the nineteenth century? Indeed, in historical terms, wasn't the Galilean revolution in physics fairly recent? But the real problem here is that this book is so ill-informed about contemporary social science, where many practitioners have achieved predictive and explanatory success, and indeed have made a contribution to the betterment of human society because of it.
What would the author say to quantitative political scientists who in recent years have offered some of the first reliable models for the prediction of war and state failure? What response to the benefits that have been borne from sociologists who have analyzed patterns in the relationship between crime and social order, that have resulted in the reduction of murder rates in New York City, Houston, and New Orleans? Early in the book the author says that his goal is to “restore social science to its classical position as a practical, intellectual activity aimed at clarifying the problems, risks, and possibilities we face as humans and societies, and at contributing to social and political praxis.” Surely many empirical social scientists would agree. But how can one possibly succeed in improving our society without making some prior attempt to gather knowledge concerning why humans behave as we do? Are psychological studies of terrorism irrelevant to predicting and preventing the next 9/11? Are economists deluding themselves in trying to understand the relationship between taxes and economic growth?
On page 44 the author indicates a possible response to such claims, by offering that the social sciences have yet to achieve a high standard of predictive accuracy. He writes “the kind of economic theory which can reliably predict changes in exchange rates and stock market trends has yet to appear.” But, by this standard, wouldn't modern meteorology and even much of quantum physics fail to measure up? Is social inquiry a scientific failure unless it can fulfill such artificially high standards?
It is disappointing, too, that for a book that seeks to make a contribution to the philosophy of social science this account discusses virtually none of the contemporary analytical work that has previously appeared on this subject and instead pretends single-handedly to resolve a debate that is still raging in the philosophy of social science. Worse is the arid assumption that with a little Foucault and Habermas, one can show that whole disciplines in the social sciences melt away as pure methodological bravado. Is it any wonder that so few social scientists take philosophical debate very seriously? Indeed, it is ironic that philosophers are still debating the in principle possibility of a methodology that has already been realized so obviously and successfully in actual practice in the social sciences.
Given the early shortcomings of this book, Flyvbjerg's conclusion that the social sciences need to undergo a “phronetic” revolution seems underwhelming. At one point the author says that hermeneutics by itself is incomplete and that critical theory bogs down. But, on page 133, it becomes clear that phronesis itself is little more than a context-sensitive version of practical-minded interpretivism, that has long been offered by those who have sought to pronounce the premature death of naturalism in the philosophy of science.
There is an old saw in the philosophy of social science that goes like this: how is it that Aristotle's physics has long since been abandoned, but his politics is still revered as fresh insight into the human condition? Was his vision so much greater in human affairs than it was concerning nature? No, it is just that the study of human behavior has been much slower to replace our a priori intuitions and prejudices with the sort of rigorous empirical inquiry that is necessary for a discipline to move forward as a science. Indeed, perhaps it is the clearest message of this book that we should not expect such a revolution at all in a field until it has self-consciously embraced not just the ambitions and trappings of science, but also the scientific attitude: respect for learning from one's data, the importance of performing experiments, and maintaining an attitude of humility concerning our ignorance even about those subjects to which we are closest. Though it is easy to despair, there are signs that such a vision is just beginning to take hold and bear fruit in the social sciences. Return to Aristotle? We shouldn't dare.
