Habermas’ perspective on the unity of knowledge is part of the heritage of modern work dating at least to Dewey (1922, 1956a, 1956b) and the attempt to identify the standard patterns that underpin knowing, learning and instruction. Ayer’s (1936) logical positivism had tried to ground all authentic knowing in the rational or empirically observable/measurable. In turn, Tyler (1949) generated from this conceptual identifi cation a virtual science around assessment regimes, and Bloom and associates (Bloom 1956; Krathwohl et al. 1964) built further on it in the form of the taxonomies of educational objectives.
Meanwhile, Ferre (1982) had begun the dismantling of the apparatus of logical positivism in declaring that ‘facts are never given in isolation from the minds that receive them’ (p. 761). Ferre implied that the things we call ‘facts’ are really theories, and hence less observable/measurable than in the ways that logical positivists held to be determinative. Such a rejoinder was further reinforced by Lakatos (1974) and Kuhn (1970) who coined the notions of ‘touchstone’ and ‘paradigm’ respectively to connote the true basis of claims to ‘know’. In a word, ‘knowing’ is not linear, it is complex; nor is it objective in any simple observable
or measurable sense because it is infused with the subjectivity of the person doing the knowing. Quine (1953) went on to show just how subjective were the assertions of those claiming to be objective and Feyerabend (1975) launched highly critical attacks on education systems for the ways in which they had prioritized certain forms of knowledge over others, on the purported basis that they offered surer knowing (read rational or observable/measurable knowing), while other ways of knowing were relegated to the margins of education.
The response from educationists was to take recourse in various ‘forms of knowledge’ arguments in order to counter the veritable domination of logical positivism in practical systems of education. Phenix (1964) wrote that curriculum comprises ‘realms of meaning’, rather than a single realm and that each realm (read ‘discipline’) needed to be understood and dealt with according to its own terms of meaning. Hirst and Peters (1970) agreed, stating that ‘in the recent past, education had been conceived . . . too much in terms of a set stock of information, simple skills and static conformity to a code’ (p. 37).
The Hirst and Peters’ ‘forms thesis’ held that there were certain ‘forms of knowledge’ which underlay any claim to ‘know’. The seven forms comprised Mathematics and Logic, Physical Sciences, Human Sciences, Literature and Fine Arts, History, Philosophy and Religion. Each of these forms had an appropriate procedure, or methodology, which suited gathering knowledge within its domain. Hence, while empirical observation and measurement might well be appropriate for dealing with forms of knowledge in the physical sciences, the human sciences required a closer, more subjective approach on the part of the one wishing to know, and knowing in the fi ne arts and religion required some- thing different again. From this perspective, the great error in logical positivism was in supposing that one or two of the forms of knowledge constituted all knowledge.
It is within the terms of this historical moment that Habermas’ work comes to have most meaning, including for education. Habermas (1972, 1974) in a sense constructed his own forms thesis but laid it on fi rmer epistemological and cognitive grounds, a rare but timely conjunction, seeing it resting not on partitioned knowledge sets as ontological reifi cations but rather on the ways in which the mind works in constructing reality. As an early aside, this construct of knowing, a rare combination of philosophy and science, might yet have greater potential than has been realized so far for conversation with the emerging neurosciences, which will be referred to in a later part of the chapter. Habermas’ explanation for apparent divisions in knowledge derives from his belief that knowing is impelled by a series of ‘cognitive interests’, interests which are part and parcel of the way the human mind works. These interests are threefold. First, there is an interest in technical control which impels an ‘empirical analytic’ type of knowing. Second, the interest in understanding meanings gives rise to a ‘historical hermeneutic’ way of knowing, or ‘communicative knowledge’ (the knowing that results from engagement, interrelationship and dialogue with others). Third, there is an interest in being emancipated, a free agent as it were,
which issues in a ‘critical’, or ‘self-refl ective’ way of knowing (the knowledge that comes ultimately from knowing oneself).
As far as Habermas is concerned, all three cognitive interests are operative regardless of the discipline area. Whatever the subject matter, our interest in technical control will lead us to want to know all the facts and fi gures associated with the subject at hand; this is where the quest for empirical–analytic knowing originates and is of use in the total quest to ‘know’. Similarly, our interest in understanding the meaning behind an event will lead us to explore the inner dimensions, to try to relate one factor to another and to negotiate interpretations with other interested stakeholders; this impels an historical–hermeneutic type of knowing which serves to extend our understanding and the totality of our knowing. Finally, our interest in ensuring our autonomy as a knower will make us refl ect critically on our subject matter, our sources and ultimately ourselves as agents of knowing. This is the preserve of critical or self-refl ective knowing and where, according to Habermas, the only truly assured, totally comprehensive and authentic human knowing occurs.
At the heart of Habermas’ thesis is the notion that the cognitive interest to be emancipated, or free, in our knowing impels an intensive critique of all of the assumptions and sources of our knowing up to that point in time. Among the assumptions and sources are those of both the external and the internal world. Externally, one confronts one’s enculturated past, one’s corporate beliefs and community values, one’s family, school, political and religious heritage. Internally, one confronts one’s self: there is no knowing without knowing the knower. Through critical, self-refl ective knowing, one is challenged to let go of much of the past and to embrace new futures. The end of critical, self-refl ective knowing is praxis, practical action for change. One cannot remain in the same place once one has confronted one’s past and one’s self. In a sense, the ultimate point of the learning game is to be found in knowing oneself and the consequent change of belief and behaviour that inevitably follows. Habermas saw this process as cleansing and purifying one’s intentions and actions in ways that were lacking in the germination of the Third Reich and its many followers. It is here that some of his passion to ensure that the Third Reich could never happen again can be seen.
In Habermas’ (1984, 1987, 1990) later theory of communicative action, he builds on the theory of knowing, describing the development of ‘communicative capacity’ as the initial outgrowth of the self-refl ective knower and then, moreover, of ‘communicative action’. Communicative capacity is when the self-refl ective knower comes to see his or her own lifeworld as just one that needs to function in a myriad of lifeworlds, and so comes to possess communicative capacity. It is in a sense the fully fl ourished result of the historical–hermeneutical or ‘communicative’ way of knowing when infused with the critical–self-refl ective way of knowing, a veritable formula for the modern, globally competent, intercultural communicator.
Beyond this is the notion of communicative action, an action orientation beyond that which can be impelled by historical–hermeneutical knowing, requiring instead the more profound knowing that comes from self-refl ectivity.
Herein, the self-refl ective knower takes a step beyond mere tolerance of other lifeworlds to take a stand to defend the right of all legitimate lifeworlds to exist and be accommodated within the human community. The stand is both for justice and for oneself because one’s new found self, one’s own integrity, is at stake. This is a concept about personal commitment, reliability and trustworthiness that impels and demands practical action that makes a difference. It is a refi nement and sharpening of the outpouring of authentic knowing, namely praxis, as conceived of in Habermas’ theory of knowing, the kind of committed action that can only come from the wellspring enshrined in the notion of self-refl ectivity, from one who knows who they are, values the integrity of being authentic and commits oneself to establishing the kinds of caring and trusting relationships that bear the best fruits of human interactivity. Again, Habermas’ passion to correct the wrongs of the past, especially around German Christian anti-Semitism, and ensure such travesties can never happen again, can be seen in the way this theory is constructed.
In his clear conjoining of knowing with doing, Habermas’ fundamental Aristotelian reliance becomes apparent. In being caught between the rationalism of his teacher, Plato, and the pragmatism that always allured him, Aristotle fi nally settled on a way of knowing that relied on, yet was beyond, both rationalism and pragmatism in their simpler senses. This was a way of knowing that arose partly from the human need to be guided by one’s intellect (as in rationalism) and partly from the need to be guided by one’s common sense and intuition (as in pragmatism) but, above all, by one’s need to be authentic in what one claimed to know. Eudaemonia is Aristotle’s supreme good, but it is not a good that can be pursued merely by being known or merely by being experienced. It is a good that must be lived. The kind of judgement essential to the pursuit of eudaemonia is what Aristotle fi nally described as a ‘practical’ judgement, a judgement that leads to practical action or praxis in Habermasian terms.
The Aristotelian connection helps us to see how far Habermas has taken us from the postulations of the logical positivists for whom knowing was entirely locked in to the empirical–analytic domain. The potential for Habermasian theory to inform modern quests to ‘think outside the square’ across a spectrum of fi elds seems limitless. Among these fi elds is educational research. Considerable educational research has been expended in making applications of Habermasian theory to a range of issues relevant to educational theory and practice (Van Manen 1977; Young 1989; Doll 1993) and Habermas (2001) acknowledges the validity of this connection in some of his later work. I will focus on just two species of educational research, in which I have been a participant, to illustrate the pertinence and usefulness of Habermasian theory to these projects.