Latour's Thick Concepts

Abstract

Although Bruno Latour's project of analyzing the practice of science is largely epistemological-he wants to understand how scientists come to know things-his epistemology is supported by an elaborate metaphysics. Scientific inquiry, he says, proceeds by the production and enlistment of hybrids that are arranged into networks of interaction to support one's scientific claims. The nodes in a network can be anything: an influential colleague who is an advocate of your claim, a rhetorical device in a scientific journal meant to discourage those who would challenge you, a fancy new piece of instrumentation, or the fact that a guinea pig's ileum pulsates the way you expect when hooked up to electrodes. The strength and reach of the network is all important. One must have all the right human and non-human "actants" on your side. Latour thinks the role of the anthropologist, historian, or philosopher of science is to trace out and follow these networks to see how science is practiced. Latour's metaphysics is admittedly kind of weird at first glance. The sociologist of science David Bloor has pointed out "the real oddity of Latour's position" (1999a:96), calling it "a fantastic gloss on a body of fact" (1999a:97), and has accused Latour of "obscurantism raised to the level of a general methodological principle" (1999a:97). Though Latour's terminology is often quite experimental, he claims "I have to offer an alternative picture of the world that can rely on none of the resources of common sense although, in the end, I aim at nothing but common sense" (Latour, 1999b:200). My goal here is to take Latour's side and show how commonsensical Latour's enterprise is. To do this, I will compare Latour's metaphysical terminology with the rather more mundane terminology of the thickness and thinness of concepts, as it is used in ethical theory as well as in anthropology. I also aim to use this latter terminology to show some of the virtues of Latour's method in comparison with some of the failings of David Bloor's own account of the sociology of science. Their differences aside for a moment, both Bloor and Latour think traditional "asymmetrical" analyses of science are wrongheaded. Asymmetrical explanations of science hold that truth is explained by nature (i.e., that true statements are reflections of natural laws) while at the same time holding that errors are explained by the influence of ideology, social structure, or the influence of culture. Herbert Spencer's views on eugenics are attributed to the social prejudices of Victorian society, whereas Darwin's thesis of natural selection is held to be an account of what happens in nature, and is regarded as totally ahistorical and culturally neutral. In an asymmetrical framework, truth claims that break with ideology are held to be "scientific." This is a hallmark of scientific objectivity. Scientific claims can get at the truth because they are not influenced by subjectivity, politics, or passion. But under the asymmetrical model, we cannot adequately understand historical continuities between people like Darwin and people like Spencer. The people who got it right are submitted to a different order of explanation from those who got it wrong. Darwin, the scientist, was observing nature, whereas Spencer, the advocate of eugenics, was misled by his cultural beliefs. The asym-metrical explanation therefore makes it difficult to write history. Latour says that when writing asymmetrical history, "'Whiggish' history is not a mistake to be overcome but a duty to be carried out with utmost rigor. The history of science should not be confused with history" (1993:93). Bloor notes that the asymmetry of this kind of traditional analysis makes science out to be a special case. We can use the social sciencgs to understand other cultures, and can bring social scientific methods to bear on other aspects of our culture, but according to the asymmetrist the sociology of science can only be the sociology of error. …