In the preceding entry (30 August 2024) I pose a conundrum for those researchers who wish to draw upon poststructural policy analysis and WPR while retaining a commitment to social justice objectives. I point to the ambiguity involved in this enterprise since poststructuralism puts in question analytic categories, including “justice”. To work past this theoretical concern, I introduce the concept of “doubling practices”, suggesting the need to work with two strategies at the same time – treating social justice as a fixed and desired goal, while opening up conceptions of justice to WPR questions. The intent is to illustrate how these two proposals work together to elaborate new, more inclusive meanings of “justice”. 

Dillon and “justice” 

The previous entry offered the example of Dillon’s (1999) work on international relations and justice. To recapitulate, Dillan argues that it is possible to develop “another Justice” through two steps: first, noting how “normal justice” understands its place; and next, developing “another Justice” that is differentiated from the norm and displaces it. I indicate that this two-step process elaborates the operation of Question 2 in a WPR approach, probing the assumptions/presuppositions underpinning “normal justice” as a means to opening up space to think “justice” differently. 

I use the example of Dillon to show how poststructuralists provide “content” to concepts they problematise. That is, “another Justice” in Dillon, and Deleuze, can be described as a “justice” that challenges the ontological presumption of human beings as independent “fungible” units comprising political “entities”, such as nation-states (see previous entry). Along similar lines, it is possible to read Foucault’s critical analysis of prison systems as endorsing certain “principles”, that is, as giving “content” to social justice proclivities. 

Foucault and “justice”

As an analytic strategy Foucault recommends starting from a “problem” (or question) in the present and understanding the heterogeneous factors that contribute to the emergence of this particular way of organising and governing society. He characterises this approach as “effective history”, “a history of the present” and as genealogy (Bacchi and Goodwin 2016: 47-48).

Foucault explains his intentions in writing his genealogy of the modern penal system, Discipline and Punish (1979), thus: 

“I didn’t aim to do a work of criticism, at least not directly, if what is meant by criticism in this case is denunciation of the negative aspects of the current penal system. … I attempted to define another problem. I wanted to uncover the system of thought, the form of rationality that, since the end of the eighteenth century, has supported the notion that the prison is really the best means of punishing offences in a society. … In bringing out the system of rationality underlying punitive practices, I wanted to indicate what the postulates of thought were that need to be re-examined if one intended to transform the penal system. … It’s the same thing that I tried to do with respect to the history of psychiatric institutions [in History of Madness 2006]. (Foucault 2020; emphasis added) 

I have highlighted the words “if one intended to transform the penal system” because I think they help us understand what Foucault meant by starting one’s analysis from a problem (or question) in the present – he means starting from a development or issue that in your view needs questioning or challenging. The perspective of the analyst is thus decisive in selecting a topic for investigation, as is the case in choosing particular policies for critical analysis in WPR (see Bacchi 2009: 20). According to Tamboukou (1999: 213), this clear involvement of researchers in picking a starting point for critical scrutiny is not a limitation but a strength of the analysis: it “should be admitted and used by the analyst in an attempt to deconstruct possible arbitrary personal feelings and stances with regard to his/her project”. 

If starting from a “problem” (or question) in the present means starting from something that concerns you or disturbs you, it becomes clear that Foucault-influenced analytic approaches (such as WPR) produce a “critical attitude” (Campbell 2007) or “an ethos of critique” (Jabri 2007). Through this starting point attention is directed to the grounds for what troubles you, providing the barebones of a social justice “agenda”. 

One does not need to dig too deeply to discern the political perspective adopted by Foucault. His desire to “transform the penal system” (and psychiatric institutions) was directly connected to his concern about the marginalisation of prisoners (and patients). As Catucci (2018: 329 ff) elaborates, in Foucault’s view, “in modern times prison has been the main technology by which our societies manage marginality”. Indeed, “all the social oppositions described by Foucault in his work – normal/abnormal, healthy/pathological, mad/reasonable – were built on the contrast between inclusion and exclusion” (Catucci 2018: 330).

Foucault’s social justice agenda involved listening to the prisoners and giving them the political role in our institutions they are denied. On this point it is useful to recall that, in 1971, Foucault co-founded the Information Group on Prisons, a group dedicated to heightening public intolerance towards the prison system by facilitating the voices of prisoners themselves (Hoffman 2012). 

As in Dillon, Foucault starts by clarifying the status and parameters of “normal imprisonment” (see “normal justice” in Dillon) and develops alternatives that produce “another imprisonment” (“another Justice”). The poststructural moment of deconstructive analysis – questioning “normal imprisonment” or “normal justice” – provides guidance to developing more inclusive institutions and practices. The two strategies work together to elaborate new, more inclusive meanings of “justice”. 

In a useful exchange on the work of the criminologist Hulsman, Foucault clarifies his stance further. To summarize much too briefly, Hulsman argued that the majority of violations (“crimes”) escape the penal system without imperilling society. Hence, he suggested replacing the concept of crime with that of “problem situations”, settling most conflicts through non-judicial arbitration and reconciliation procedures (Foucault 2020: 389-390). Foucault found Hulsman’s proposal interesting, but he was concerned that “problem situations” would bring about “a hyperpsychologization around the criminal himself (sic) that will constitute him as an object of psychiatric or medical interventions, with therapeutic aims” (Foucault 2020: 390). 

Needless to say, I was delighted to see Foucault’s objection to identifying certain social groups as “the problem”. Moreover, through the example of imprisonment, we can grasp the rudiments of the concerns that led to Foucault’s major contributions, identified by Catucci (2018: 329 ff) as to do with inclusion/exclusion. The themes of inclusion/exclusion and marginalisation characterise numerous WPR applications (“WPR Network” WPRNETWORK@jiscmail.ac.uk). There is here, as McMahon (2024) identifies, a view of social relations markedly at odds with the world we inhabit. Attempts to change these relations can be associated with the concept of social justice. This conclusion comes with three provisos, which I now proceed to consider.

Challenges for researchers

1. The dilemmas of language use

It is a difficult task to talk about, or even to problematise, “social justice” without invoking other categories of analysis that require critical interrogation. This point is illustrated in the pivotal article by Parkes and Gore (2022) targeting the contradictions and ambiguities involved in “social justice pedagogy”. They identify three common orientations underpinning Foucauldian-influenced poststructuralist theorizing: the critique of universalism, the critique of foundationalism, and the critique of essentialism. They insist that “from a poststructural perspective, the concept of social justice must be problematised, rather than accepted uncritically as a universal truth or desire” – so far so good, I would say. 

Parkes and Gore illustrate what poststructuralism can offer pedagogy through a close reading of Nieto and Bode’s (2008) elaboration of social justice interventions in schools. The purpose in Parkes and Gore is to illustrate the need to “push” the critical analysis further, paying heed to key terms/concepts that may require rethinking. For example, they note that Nieto and Bode suggest “that a social justice perspective means providing all students with the resources necessary to learn to their full potential”. Parkes and Gore endorse the emphasis on providing students with material resources but query the notion of “full potential”. “The very notion of ‘full potential’, or indeed any ‘potential’ that can be measured, assumed or implied”, in their view, needs to be interrogated. Again, I say – so far so good.

However, I want to draw attention to the closing sentence in this useful illustration of a poststructural critical approach: 

“Engaging in pedagogy with all the insights that poststructuralism offers may make the project of social justice pedagogy less grand, but it also equips us with insights that may be marshalled to refuse and resist those discourses that erase difference and naturalise disadvantage” (Parkes and Gore 2022). 

I wish to highlight the reliance of the analysis on the contested concept of “disadvantage”. Joan Eveline’s (1994) classic piece entitled “The Politics of Advantage” explains how a disadvantage discourse operates to target outgroups as needy and in deficit while disregarding the privileges social arrangements accord ingroups. Eveline’s analysis is critically important given the continuing reliance among many reform groups on appeals to redress “disadvantage”. This lacunae in Parkes and Gore does not undermine the usefulness of poststructural interventions; rather, it confirms them, illustrating only the need to be wary of inadvertently adopting concepts weighted in favour of the sociopolitical status quo. 

2. The discomfort of critique

The point just made about the inadvertent reliance on terms that need questioning highlights the discomfort caused by this form of critique. I imagine that Nieto and Bode would be somewhat disconcerted to read Parkes and Gore’s analysis of their work. And, I would be curious to know if Parkes and Gore recognise their reliance on the concept of disadvantage.

There is no doubt that poststructural analysis causes disquiet among and between academics. The issue becomes more serious when it involves critiques of lobby or advocacy groups. In a previous Research Hub entry (20 August 2018) I refer to the disagreement between the authors of an article (Pienaar et al. 2018) critical of the ways in which three LGBTIQ health organisations problematise LGBTIQ consumption of alcohol, and representatives of those groups. The organizations’ leaders stressed that, unlike academics who “may be in a position to ignore or sidestep existing policy and political contexts”, they had to “work for change while operating within the existing system” (Ruth et al. 2018: 195). Pienaar et al. acknowledge that 

“As researchers, we engage in similar practices for the purposes of grant funding applications: to attract increasingly competitive research funding, we are obliged to frame research questions as ‘problems’ of national concern requiring urgent attention.” (Pineear et al. 2018: 190).

This example highlights the importance of adopting a self-critical stance on one’s research, a position I describe as “self”-problematisation (Bacchi and Goodwin 2016: 38-41). Poststructural policy analysis, and the WPR approach, “disrupts the taken-for-grantedness of all policy proposals, no matter how apparently progressive” (Marshall 2012: 61). It calls upon researchers and those campaigning for reform and change to 

“consider the shape of the challenges they pose, the ways in which they perceive and represent ‘problems’, and the reasons for this … we need to reflect upon why certain reform responses get taken up, why others get dismissed, and what happens to reform proposals in the process of being ‘taken up’”. (Bacchi 1999: 7). 

3. The local targets of critique

The kinds of questioning just described help us to see how poststructural analysis targets specific situations and locales. In a previous Research Hub entry (20 March 2022) I describe the importance of context to the WPR approach. The example I use is pay equity where there are debates about the optimal way to institute change, targeting equal pay for equal work, equal pay for work of equal value (otherwise known as “comparable worth”), or wage solidarity (Bacchi 1999: Chapter 4). Through a close examination of Burton et al.’s (1987: 90-94) pay equity intervention and how it produced the “problem”, I argue that in the place of sweeping generalizations about reform approaches – e.g., preferring wage solidarity over comparable worth (or vice versa), there is a need for sensitivity to specific contexts where particular forms of engagement may or may not be possible.

For example, Acker (1989: 196) shows that, in Oregon in the 1980s, constructing the problem as poverty relief (wage solidarity) proved to be a more successful reform strategy than equity agreements which, given the specific labor relations context, appeared to set worker against worker. In tune with Foucault’s own “version of emancipation”, universals are replaced with “specific transformations” that minimize domination (Moss 1998: 9). Such specific transformations constitute forms of social justice.

Conclusion

Returning to the notion of doubling (above), the suggestion in this entry is the need to move between a position in which WPR functions as a social justice strategy and a position in which WPR helps us to see what needs to be questioned in common conceptions of justice (“normal justice”). Both these analytic “balls” are kept in the air at the same time. For the first task social justice assumes a meaningful conceptual intervention; for the second, calls for “social justice” require critical interrogation. The two projects can work together to help refine an analytic strategy. 

REFERENCES

Acker, J. 1989. Doing Comparable Worth: Gender, Class and Pay Equity. Philadelphia: Temple University Press.

Bacchi, C. 1999. Women, Policy and Politics: The Construction of Policy Problems.London: Sage.

Bacchi, C. 2009. Analysing Policy: What’s the Problem Represented to be?Frenchs Forest: Pearson Education. 

Bacchi, C. and Goodwin, S. 2016. Poststructural Policy Analysis: A Guide to Practice. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Burton, C., with Hag, R. and Thompson, G. 1987. Women’s Worth: Pay Equity and Job Evaluation in Australia. Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service. 

Campbell, D. 2007. Poststructuralism. In T. Dunne, M. Kurki, & S. Smith (Eds.), International relations theory: Discipline and diversity (pp. 203–228). Oxford: Oxford University Press. 

Catucci, S. 2018. The Prison Beyond its Theory: Between Michel Foucault’s Militancy and Thought. In E. Fransson, F. Giofrè and B. Johnsen (eds) Prison Architecture and Humans. Olso: Cappelen Damm Akademisk.

Dillon, M. 1999. Another Justice. Political Theory 27(2): 155-175. 

Eveline, J. 1994. The politics of advantage. Australian Feminist Studies 19: 129-54. 

Foucault, M. 1979. Discipline and punish: The birth of the prison (trans: Sheridan, A.). New York: Vintage/Random House.

Foucault, M. 2006. History of Madness. NY: Routledge.

Foucault, M. 2020. What is called “Punishing”? In Michel Foucault, Power: The Essential Works of Michel Foucault, 1954-1984. Penguin Books.

Hoffman, M. 2012. Foucault and the “Lesson” of the Prisoner Support Movement. New Political Science, 34(1): 21-36. 

Jabri, V. 2007. War and the transformation of global politics. Houndsmills, UK: Palgrave Macmillan.

Moss, J. (1998). Introduction: The later Foucault. In J. Moss (Ed.), The later Foucault: Politics and philosophy. London: Sage. 

Nieto, S. & Bode, P. 2008. Affirming diversity: The sociopolitical context of multicultural education, 5th Edition, Allyn & Bacon.

Parkes, R. J. and Gore, J. M. (2022) After Poststructuralism: Rethinking the Discourse of Social Justice Pedagogy. In T. K. Chapman and N. Hobbel (eds) Social Justice Pedagogy Across the Curriculum: The Practice of Freedom. Routledge: London.  

Pienaar, K., Murphy, D., Race, K. & Lea, T. 2018. Problematising LGBTIQ drug use, governing sexuality and gender: A critical analysis of LGBTIQ health policy in Australia.International Journal of Drug Policy  55: 187-194.

Ruth, S., Parkhill, N. and Reynolds, R. 2018. A response to Pienaar et al (2018). Problematizing LGBTIQ drug use, governing sexuality and gender: A critical analysis of LGBTIQ health policy in Australia. International Journal of Drug Policy,55: 195-196.Tamboukou, M. 1999. Writing Genealogies: an exploration of Foucault’s strategies for doing research. Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 20(2): 201-207

This entry was prompted by the recent publication of McMahon’s (2024) chapter entitled: “Using Poststructural Policy Analysis for Social Justice”. McMahon identifies as an objective “achieving progressive social change” and targets “critical policy analysis as a research method for social justice”. I imagine that many of us share these objectives. McMahon (p. 83) points to an occasion where I refer to “justice goals” and how “we can produce a just society” (Bacchi 2016, p. 8). 

Here I mention a few WPR applications that invoke the concept “justice”. There are many others included in the Master List of WPR applications, distributed through the WPR list (“WPR Network” WPRNETWORK@jiscmail.ac.uk).

            Olsson, D. 2022. From Technocracy to Democracy: Ways to Promote Democratic Engagement for Just Climate Change Adaptation and Resilience Building. Sustainability, 14, 1433.

            Rask, N. 2022. An intersectional reading of circular economy policies: towards just and sufficiency-driven sustainabilities. Local Environment, DOI: 10.1080/13549839.2022.2040467

            McGarry, K. and FitzGerald, S. A. 2019. The politics of injustice: Sex- working women, feminism and criminalizing sex purchase in Ireland. Criminology & Criminal Justice, 19(1): 62-79.

            Mulinari, P. et al. 2023. Exploring Swedish “Family Planning”: Reproductive Racism and Reproductive Justice. In A. Kochaniewicz (Ed.) Struggles for Reproductive Justice in the Era of Anti-Genderism and Religious Fundamentalism. 

            Zemandl, E. J. 2018. The Roma experience of political (in)justice: The case of school (de)segregation in Hungary. ETHOS – Towards a European Theory of Justice and Fairness, European Commission Horizon 2020 research project.
Available at: https://ethos-europe.eu/sites/default/files/ethosd5.2hungary.pdf 

So, “justice” is very much part of the vocabulary adopted in WPR analyses. However, all these invocations of “justice” face a challenge. Sotiropoulos (2021: 851-852) points out that “social justice” is one of the “cherished notions of the western philosophical and political tradition”, problematised in poststructural accounts. We have seen on many occasions that, as a poststructural intervention, WPR questions taken-for-granted categories of analysis. The task in these instances is to see how these categories represent the “problem” they purport to address. For example, the term “equality” is often analysed using WPR – showing how the term can have different meanings with contrasting implications. A large number of WPR applications examine how “women’s equality” is conceptualised in different approaches (Bacchi and Goodwin 2016: 64-66). 

So, what about “justice”? How can we invoke “justice” without querying different invocations of the term? How, in short, can we describe WPR as a social justice analytic strategy? 

Poststructuralism and “doubling practices”

To pursue these questions, it is useful to adopt what is commonly described as poststructuralism’s “double move”. Lather (2001) introduces the notion of a “doubled research practice” to deal with what she calls “stuck places”: “a way of thinking through of some of the complexities, ambiguities and contradictions involved in the process of doing qualitative research that is concerned with recognizing difference and with pursuing social justice” (Gunaratnam 2003: 3). We have just encountered one such “ambiguity”: how to pursue social justice while subjecting “social justice” to critical analysis. 

A “doubled research strategy” involves working with and against analytic categories at the same time. Gunaratnam (2003) illustrates the usefulness of this strategy in relation to racial categories. While recognising “race” as a constructed category, she points out that dissolving the category of “race” makes it difficult to claim the experience of racism. At the same time, poststructuralist critiques of essentialist notions of “race” can “be used in empirical research to generate more complex insights into the production of social location and experience”. It is therefore possible, and politically useful, to work with and against racial categories. 

 In Mainstreaming Politics (2010), Joan Eveline and I describe this double move as embracing the simultaneous fixing and unfixing of meanings. In that book, for example, at times we adopt the convention of putting “women” and “men” in quotation marks to trouble the categories; at other times we use women and men, without quotation marks, as having an assumed meaning. This shifting of position reflects the complex political circumstances within which we navigate. 

For political reasons it is sometimes necessary to question the category “women” but at other times it is necessary to adopt the category. There is no confusion here. Rather, there is a determination to shape one’s strategy to particular political objectives, with the decisions about when to fix and when to unfix meanings dependent upon reflexive judgment about the political exigencies of the particular situation. The fixed meanings we necessarily impart on some occasions must be regarded as temporary and subject to continuous critical scrutiny in order to elaborate new, more inclusive meanings. The question is not whether to fix meaning – since for a range of reasons fixing must occur – but when to fix meaning and who to involve in the “fixing” exercise.  

To capture this double move in relation to “justice” or “social justice” I suggest approaching the topic through two perspectives: first, reflecting on WPR through a social justice lens; second, questioning “social justice” through a WPR lens. The reference to social justice in the first position has no quotation marks, signalling a desire to fix meaning. The use of quotation marks in the second position signals a willingness to unfix meaning. As a strategic intervention, these two proposals work together to elaborate new, more inclusive meanings. 

WPR through a social justice lens

I locate the first perspective in relation to McMahon’s (2024) chapter. Her goal is to consider how PPA (Poststructural Policy Analysis), and hence WPR, serve social justice objectives. The starting point for analysis is a social justice orientation. This “social justice orientation” comprises policy work and policy practice as “key skills for social justice advocacy” (p. 79). Policy advocacy is linked to a commitment to “give voice to disadvantaged and marginalised groups”. 

McMahon (2024: 82) highlights the usefulness, for social justice concerns, of exploring research policy as a governing technology. As part of this project, she emphasises the role of “policy as discourse” and of problematisations. She includes a variety of WPR applications that “address social justice issues” (2024: 86). Importantly, she notes that 

“All discourses, all reforms and proposals for change (including those of the researcher themselves), whether conservative or progressive, seek to govern conduct in particular ways, and from a poststructural perspective all must be opened up to problematisation in order that there is governing ‘with a minimum of domination’ (Foucault, 1987: 129, cited in Bacchi and Goodwin, 2016: 24)”.

At the same time, the starting point for the analysis is a conception of social justice. As McMahon (2024: 93-94) explains: “There are no ‘rules’ for representing a WPR analysis, and the researcher will need to shape the write-up in a way that best conveys the research story based on the social justice orientation of the analytical work undertaken”. Referring to her research on “value for money”, McMahon (2024: 89) argues that “the dominant economic thinking and assumptions pervading the policy discourse failed to take account of very important social justice perspectives”. Poststructural policy analysis, in this account, “enables the social justice researcher to engage in a deeper critical analysis of the role of policy in constructing social problems in particular ways and potentially undermining social justice principles and values” (McMahon 2024: 94). 

“Social justice” through a WPR lens

While McMahon offers an insightful analysis of the critical perspective associated with PPA, the category of “social justice” continues to function as unproblematised. That is, the notions of “social justice principles” and “social justice perspectives” operate as taken-for-granted concepts with some form of assumed meaning. 

One of the chief tasks undertaken by WPR scholars is the questioning of taken-for-granted categories of meaning – to see what they effect (and affect) and what they fail to effect (and affect). Many applications have made good use of this approach (Bacchi and Goodwin 2016: 44, 63, 71, 94).

This way of using WPR finds its inspiration in Tanesini’s (1994) argument that concepts have no definite meaning but are proposals about how we ought to proceed from here. As proposals, then, different uses of a term contain implicit representations of the “problem” they purport to address. A way forward, therefore, is to consider different uses of the concept “justice”, probing their underlying assumptions, the genesis of different meanings, their effects and their silences. The analytic strategy adopted here involves applying the WPR questions to “justice”.

Dillon (1999), a well-known postructuralist researcher in the field of international relations, provides links to the kind of thinking and analysis required here. His article invokes Deleuze’s call for “another justice”, “a justice that is different from the justice of the state” (Sotiropoulos 2021: 862). Dillon uses a capital letter for this “other Justice” to distinguish it from “normal justice”. He is concerned that what he calls “normal justice”, characterized as distributive justice, is embedded in conventional state-based politics. Sotiropoulos (2021: 861) also highlights the “statist conception of justice that has dominated political philosophy since antiquity”. That is, “normal justice” presumes nation-states, which become the grounds for determining those called “citizens” and “non-citizens”. 

Digging deeper, Dillon argues that a particular understanding of individual “human beings” underpins this distinction, an understanding of a subject as sovereign and “a fungible unit of account”. From this stance it is a short step, says Dillon (1999: 171), to 

“systems of calculability, commensurability, and expendability which characterise the arithmetic politics and political arithmetics of much of the international relations and strategic studies – military and managerial – as well as the inter and intra genocidal politics of modern times”. 

Hence, to offer “another Justice” it becomes necessary to disrupt these assumptions/presuppositions. For Dillon (1999: 171), “The self that is the place of the taking place of Justice is not a what. For it does not possess an unchangeable essence”. Rather: “The self is a divided self from a beginning that is itself incomplete. It is only by virtue of that very division, that very incompleteness, that the question of justice arises at all” (Dillon 1999: 157). 

Dillon (1999: 157) elaborates how the analytic strategy he deploys assists in developing “another Justice”: “Thought of another Justice is therefore a continuous displacement of normal justice, a radical discomfort to it. But I have first to note how normal justice understands its place before considering the taking place of Justice differently”. He provides more detail: “The other way of thinking has continuously to be contrasted with the thought that underlies distributive justice, so that the characteristic features of another Justice may be differentiated from those of the normal model” (Dillon 1999: 158).

In effect, Dillon’s analysis indicates precisely the sorts of issues that arise when applying Question 2 in WPR to the question of “justice” – “What deep-seated presuppositions or assumptions underlie this representation of the ‘problem’ (problem representation)?” (Bacchi and Goodwin 2016: 20). We begin by asking how “normal justice” is conceptualised, opening up the space to think of “justice” differently. This way of thinking is captured in the second part of the title for this entry: “‘social justice’ through a WPR lens”. Importantly, Dillon describes this “making way for other ways of being” as a political act, with politics referring to “an irruptive and inventive practice called up by specific historical circumstances”. We pursue these issues in the next entry. 

REFERENCES

Bacchi, C. 2016. Problematizations in health policy: Questioning how “problems” are constituted in policies’, Sage Open, 6(2): 1–16.

Bacchi, C. and Eveline, J. 2010. Mainstreaming Politics: Gendering practices and feminist theory. Adelaide: University of Adelaide Press. 

Bacchi, C. and Goodwin, S. 2016. Poststructural Policy Analysis: A Guide to Practice. Palgrave Macmillan: New York. 

Dillon, M. 1999. Another Justice. 27(2): 155-175.

Foucault, M. 1987. The ethic of care for the self as a practice of freedom: An interview with Michel Foucault on January 20, 1984, with R. Fornet- Betancourt, H. Becker, A. Gomez-Müller, J.C. Gauthier, Philosophy & Social Criticism, 12, 112–131.

Gunaratnam, Y. 2003. Researching Race and Ethnicity: Methods, Knowledge and Power. London: Sage.

Lather, P. 2001. Postbook: Working the Ruins of Feminist Ethnography. Signs, 27(1): 199-227.

McMahon, S. 2024. Using Poststructural Policy Analysis for Social Justice. In K. McGarry, C. Bradley, and G. Kirwan (Eds), Rights and Justice in Research Advancing Methodologies for Social Change. Bristol Policy Press. pp. 79-98. 

Sotiropoulos, G. 2021. Between order and insurgency: Post-structurlism and the problem of justice. Philosophy and Social Criticism, Vol. 47(7) 850–872. Tanesini, A. 1994. Whose language? In K. Lennon & M. Whitford (eds) Knowing the difference: Feminist perspectives in epistemology. NY: Routledge

In a recent chapter in a Handbook on governmentality, I describe “a distinctive family” (Rose 2000, 19) of research questions – usefully described as “how” questions and “how possible” questions (Foucault 1982). These questions are set in contrast to the more common “why” question brought to research on governing. The suggestion is that “how possible” questions provide a more useful starting place for reflecting on complex social relations. Before I consider this proposition in greater depth, we need to get a handle on just what “how possible” questions ask, what a “how possible” question looks like. 

Here are some sample “how possible” questions to start us thinking: “how have certain things (e.g., the psychiatric hospital come to pass?  What is it possible or impossible to think? Under what conditions is it possible to think certain things and impossible to think others? (Gougelet 2014). 

Asking these sorts of questions, explains Foucault, allows us to explore the ways in which power relations are “rooted deep in the social nexus, not reconstituted ‘above’ society as a supplementary structure [for example, “the State”] whose radical effacement one could perhaps dream of” (Foucault 1982, 222). The last comment here about dreaming of radical effacement refers to the temptation to think that it might be easy to target a single/simple source of power (in for example something referred to as “the State”). By contrast in Foucault’s account power relations are “rooted deep” in the social nexus – no simple “solution” here! Dean (1999, 29) describes how, from this point of view, power is “not a zero-sum game played within an a priori structural distribution. It is rather the (mobile and open) resultant of the loose and changing assemblage of governmental techniques, practices and rationalities”.

Let’s linger on this “social nexus” for a moment. To see what Foucault’s analytic target comprises in this term, I propose a hypothetical: “when you ask a ‘why’ question of your material, what kind of answer could you offer?” Most commonly, the form of explanation turns to individuals and their motivations, or to social groups and their ambitions (e.g. “interest groups”). As signalled above there may be a temptation to “blame” “the State”, or some other “structure”. 

For Foucault-influenced analytic approaches these forms of explanation are limited in their usefulness. The position is taken that social relations and social practices are more complicated than these foci allow. These complicated social relations constitute Foucault’s “social nexus”, described by Foucault (2007, 108) as an “ensemble” of “institutions, procedures, analyses and reflections, calculations and tactics” through which governing takes place. The challenge becomes finding ways to question this “social nexus”. WPR is offered as one means to open up the “social nexus” to critical interrogation. 

WPR and “how possible” questions

Put simply, the goal in deploying WPR as an analytic strategy is to consider and question how the “social nexus” has come to be. This goal is pursued through looking at how particular aspects of social activities and existence are problematised. A key component of this analysis is the “problem representation”. To reflect critically on identified problem representations, we ask how they become/became possible – how were they possible? 

You may not immediately recognise WPR is this description. Connections with “how possible” formulations become clearer when we examine the WPR questions. Most explicitly, Question 2 (see Chart in Bacchi and Goodwin 2016, 20) asks: “What deep-seated presuppositions or assumptions underlie this representation of ‘the problem’ (problem representation)”. In effect, we are asking what meanings (presuppositions, assumptions, “unexamined ways of thinking” [Foucault 1994, 456], knowledges/discourses) need to be in place for this problem representation to be intelligible (to be possible). To understand how specific policies and their problematisations become possible, it is necessary to identify the forms of thought that made these practices intelligible and practicable.

Consider the example I often use involving the application of WPR to the commonly endorsed reform policy of training schemes for women. These schemes constitute women’s lack of training as “the problem”. They also rely upon certain knowledge forms – e.g., the proposal to train women relies on a particular understanding of how “people” develop “skills” – a behavioural focus in other words – and an ontological conception of “people” as having something called “skills”. The proposal to train women relies upon these meanings to make sense. The knowledges (physiology, psychology, philosophy, etc.) producing these meanings, in effect, make possible the proposal of training schemes. 

Foucault spoke about the need to examine precisely what is done and what is said through considering the “conditions” that are/were necessary to these practices. Asking “how possible” questions destabilizes presumably fixed entities and opens them up to this form of critical interrogation. This approach allowed Foucault to query the assumed “existence” of objects of knowledge, such as “madness” (Foucault 1972) or “sexuality” (Foucault 1986). Asking “how possible” reveals the contingency of assumed “objects” and “subjects”, and the power relations involved in their formation. 

This form of analysis provides the grounds for thinking differently. In relation to his study of prison systems, Foucault (2020) notes that he wanted to indicate what the “postulates of thought” were that need to be re-examined if one intended to transform the penal system. Attention is directed precisely to “what is done” rather than to the motives or intentions of people, which would invoke the interior consciousness Foucault was challenging (see Research Hub, 30 Sept. 2019). The analytic task becomes examining how it is possible for those things to be done, “constructing their external relations of intelligibility” and the knowledges (discourses) upon which they rely (Foucault 1991: 77) The analytic target becomes “the connections, encounters, blockages, plays of forces, strategies and so on” in order “to show that things ‘weren’t as necessary as all that” (Foucault 1991: 76), demonstrating a clear challenge to deterministic views of social relations.

The focus on what is said invites an analysis of “what could be said”, what it is possible to say. Thinking again of our “how possible” formulation (above) – what meanings need to be in place for what is said to be intelligible? where do those meanings come from? Should they be interrogated? Asking, as Foucault (1972, 59) does, “What is it possible to speak of?”, provides a novel and powerful form of political analysis. Poststructural policy analysis aims to study, not people’s views, but how it is possible for such views to exist. 

Jennifer Bonham and I develop this thinking to produce a form of poststructural interview analysis, with the acronym PIA (Poststructural Interview Analysis; Bacchi and Bonham 2016). 

Process 2 in PIA calls for “Producing Genealogies of ‘What is said’”. I provide a brief extract here to elaborate what this involves, with bracketed comments in italics to signal connections with “how possible” thinking: 

Such genealogies look to identify the “conditions” necessary in a particular period “for this or that enunciation to be formulated” [i.e., to be possible] (Foucault 1972: 15 fn 2). Attention is directed to the multitudes of practices—the “processes, procedures and apparatuses” (Tamboukou 1999: 202)—involved in the production of “what is said” as “sayable”, as “within the true” [i.e. as possible]. Take, for example, the comments “I felt depressed” or “We work with mental trauma”. The political target is not how psychology or psychiatry control or label people but all the interconnected practices that make depression and mental trauma apparent and intelligible [i.e., possible], and give these knowledge formations authority. (Bacchi and Bonham 2016, 116).

For both WPR and PIA the focus on heterogeneous relations rather than on “fixity” undermines any sense of linear causality, of one thing (or a few things) causing another – a form of thinking about causation that is common when “why” questions are asked. In a Foucault-influenced analytic strategy, there is a “sort of multiplication or pluralization of causes” (Foucault 1991, 76), a proliferation of “events” as the random results of “the interweaving of relations of power and domination (Tamboukou 1999, 207). “Everything depends on everything else” (Veyne 1997, p. 170): “in Foucault it is not a question of one set of changes ‘influencing’ or ‘causing’ others but of a complex series of interactions which allow the production of possible objects of history” (O’Farrell 2005, 38). 

I trust that this brief excursion into “how possible” questions has provided some indication of what it means to tackle “the social nexus”. I hope it has also produced a curiosity about “how possible” questions and their potential as political interventions. 

I find myself asking frequent questions prompted by keeping “how possible” to the fore in my thinking: “How has this come to be?” “What is assumed if this occurrence is to be taken for granted as truth?” “Where did this thing/position/argument come from?” “What meanings/knowledges/discourses does it rely upon?” “Do I need to question those meanings/knowledges/discourses?” “Do I need to re-think how I assume their credibility?”

Lots of food for thought!

References

Bacchi, C. 2023. Governmentalizing “policy studies”. In W. Walters and M. Tazzioli (Eds) Handbook on Governmentality. Massachusetts: Edward Elgar. pp. 54-71. 

Bacchi, C. and Bonham, J. 2016. Appendix: Poststructural Interview Analysis: Politicizing “personhood”. In C. Bacchi and S. Goodwin, Poststructural Policy Analysis: A guide to practice. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 113-122. 

Bacchi, C. and Goodwin, S. 2016. Poststructural Policy Analysis: A Guide to Practice. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Dean, M. 1999. Governmentality: Power and rule in modern society. London: Sage. 

Foucault, M. 1972. Histoire de la folie a l’age classique [History of Madness in the Classical Age] (Paris: Gallimard).

Foucault, M. 1980. The History of Sexuality, Vol. I. An Introduction New York: Vintage Books. 

Foucault, M. 1982. How is Power Exercised? In H. L. Dreyfus and P. Rabinow (eds), Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics, Brighton: Harvester Press, pp. 216–226.

Foucault, M 1991. Politics and the study of discourse, in Graham Burchell, Colin Gordon & Peter Miller (eds.), The Foucault Effect: Studies in Governmentality (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991).

Foucault, M. 1994 [1981]. So is it important to think? In J.D. Faubion, (Ed.), Power: Essential works of Foucault 1954–1984, vol. 3, Hurley, R. and others (trans.). London: Penguin. 

Foucault, M. 2020. What is called “Punishing”? In Michel Foucault, Power: The Essential Works of Michel Foucault, 1954-1984. Penguin Books.

O’Farrell, C. 2005. Michel Foucault. London: Sage.

Rose, N. 2000. Powers of Freedom: Reframing Political Thought, 2nd edition, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 

Tamboukou, M. 1999. Writing genealogies: An exploration of Foucault’s stra-tegies for doing research. Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 20 (2), 201–217. Veyne, P. 1997. Foucault revolutionizes history. In A.I. Davidson (Ed.), Foucault and his Interlocutors, Porter, C. (trans.), Chicago: University of Chicago Press

This entry is prompted by a question I received about PIA (Poststructural Interview Analysis) (Bacchi and Bonham 2016). I was asked if it would be acceptable to change the order of the “processes” listed for PIA. I will list the processes simply so that we all know what I’m referring to:

Process 1: Noting “What is Said” 

Process 2: Producing Genealogies of “What is Said”

Process 3: Highlighting Key Discursive Practices

Process 4: Analysing “What is Said” 

Process 5: Interrogating the Production of “Subjects” 

Process 6: Exploring Transformative Potential 

Process 7: Questioning the Politics of Distribution

What I have to say about PIA in response to the query about changing the order of the processes applies equally to the “seven forms of questioning and analysis” in WPR (see Table in Bacchi and Goodwin 2016, p. 20). 

My reply to the query was an enthusiastic “Yes, of course”. I have mentioned many times that the WPR questions are interconnected. The same is the case in PIA. And, as a result, there is overlap and hopefully fruitful conjunctures. 

When Jennifer Bonham and I developed PIA, we hoped that the language of “processes” would convey the kind of fluidity and movement between forms of analysis that we wished to encourage. However, the imposition of a listing and numbering of “processes”, as in PIA, or “questions”, as in WPR, can undo the best of intentions. There can develop a tendency to “tick off” certain numbered items and then move on, failing to reflect on the mutual imbrication of all the processes/questions. The processes/questions feed off one another. Treating them as separate activities imposes limitations on what can be seen. 

Allow me to attempt an analogy, though I am wary of analogies. Both PIA and WPR can be conceptualised as trips to places less well known and less often visited. However, the focus is on the travel itself, not on the destination. I think of it as a sightseeing trip with the joys of discovery along the way. The questions/processes serve as prompts to encourage certain lines of thought. They are not a recipe with either processes or questions as ingredients added sequentially. 

An example of the “listing” peril

I need to tell the sad story of “Step 7” in WPR to illustrate the dilemma of developing a research “tool” (I prefer the word “approach” or analytic strategy). If you look back to Analysing Policy (Bacchi 2009), the book that lays out the WPR questions systematically (Chapters 3 and 4), you will see that each time the WPR Table appears (pp. 2, 48) there is a list of six numbered questions, followed by the comment (with no number): “Apply these questions to your own problem representations”.

The Table was set up in this way because the last comment could not be listed as a question since, grammatically, it was an instruction not a question (on the challenges this situation throws up, see the Research Hub entry on 30 August 2023, called “Applying WPR to WPR”). It followed that WPR came to be described as consisting of six questions and everyone ignored the reference to “self”-problematisation. Since this reference did not have a number, it disappeared from people’s analyses (see Research Hub entries on 21 Oct 2018 and 5 November 2018). 

I decided I needed to do something about this “disappearing” of “self”-problematisation. In 2016, in the book with Sue Goodwin (Poststructural Policy Analysis: A Guide to Practice), the Table (p. 2) now includes a “Step 7” – “Apply these questions to your own problem representations”. Again, since the statement is not a question, I decided to call it a “step”. 

Over the next little while, it became clear to me what had happened. Making the “self”-problematising undertaking a “Step” implied that you could somehow embrace this practice easily. Making it Step 7 seemed to imply that you should undertake this exercise at the end of your analysis or paper, once you had done everything else.

The layout of a Table with numbered questions imposed a structure that had all sorts of unintended consequences. There is a reference in Poststructural Policy Analysis (p. 24) regarding the need to maintain a “self”-problematising ethic throughout one’s analysis. However, the placement of “Step 7” at the end of the Table undermines this commitment. 

The practice of “choosing” some questions

One effect of the “listing” peril is that the “questions” in WPR are thought of as separated from one another. Such a separation leads to the practice of choosing some questions as the basis of one’s research and removing others. I am well aware that, both in 2009 and in 2016, I stated that it was “possible to draw selectively upon the forms of questioning and analysis” in WPR (Bacchi and Goodwin 2016, p. 24). 

I apologize for this misleading phrasing. In the 2022 Keynote at Karlstad ( KEYNOTE ADDRESS – CAROL BACCHI – 18 August 2022 I note that “a researcher can foreground certain WPR questions and bypass others”. What I ought to have said is that it is possible to foreground some part of the analysis in a research paper. As an example, the researcher may want to highlight the politics of subjectification (from Question 5) or a particular silencing practice (from Question 4). 

As the WPR approach has matured, I take every opportunity to stress the linkages among aspects of the approach, the interconnections, the interactions, rather than the separations. This is clear in the 2016 reference to maintaining a “self”-problematising ethic, already mentioned (Bacchi and Goodwin 2016, p. 24). And in the Karlstad keynote address, I highlight the importance of developing a “genealogical sensibility” as an integral part of WPR. Hopefully, these interventions make it possible to think about WPR and PIA as “ways of seeing” rather than as lists of “steps” to perform. 

Producing an “integrated analysis” 

To acquire some grasp of the kinds of analyses these suggestions promote, I would recommend looking at the last five chapters in Analysing Policy (Bacchi 2009). Each of these chapters applies what I call an “integrated analysis”. If you read those chapters, you will see no separate listing of the WPR questions and no imposed sequential analysis. Instead, you will observe how the aspects of WPR/PIA thinking influence an argument. To achieve this effect, I experimented with inserting the notation, Q1, Q2 etc to signal when the thinking behind a particular question is being applied. There is no intention in these chapters to suggest that researchers ought to use similar notation, although it may prove useful as a theoretical exercise.

Why are the questions in the order they appear currently? 

What you see in the current listing of WPR/PIA questions/processes is one way of thinking through the material being analysed. The current listing illustrates the thinking processes as I developed them. This approach does not rule out other ways of “ordering” the processes/questions. 

One interesting suggestion sent me by a researcher who draws on WPR suggests making genealogy the priority and then seeking problem representations throughout this analytic process. The argument here is that such a repositioning of genealogy would make it easier to identify a plurality of problem representations. I am still thinking through the implications of this suggestion but would certainly encourage further experimentation of this kind.

Other possible models?

I have been thinking about the other sorts of visual representations people use to convey “directions” in a research protocol, other than a numbered list as in WPR currently. There are many possible models, often with circles or speech bubbles linked to each other with arrows. In a 2014 article Jennifer Bonham and I produced a diagram that attempted to map the network of relations which might apply to any field of statements, with statements used in a Foucauldian sense (Bacchi and Bonhan 2014, p. 186). The diagram is intricate and yet Jennifer and I felt it still did not invoke the “action, fluidity and potential variability of continually enacted relations” (p 185, fn 85) that we wanted to capture. To achieve that effect, we decided, the connected lines in our diagram need to be in motion! Tricky!

In the event, the discursive practices diagram has been taken up by very few researchers. In contrast, the WPR questions form the basis of numerous research articles in a wide range of fields and across many regions/countries. Simplicity, it appears, trumps elegance! 

How to handle the peril of lists

Can you use the questions as listed? Yes, but the message in this entry is to try to become so familiar with the questions/processes that you can hold them up together like juggling balls. My suggestion is to avoid treating the processes/questions as a formula and to resist the implication in their listing that they follow a certain order. The suggestion that Step 7 is something to tack on at the end of the other questions (if there is space) in an analysis indicates one of the clearest ways in which WPR can be misleading. 

I take some responsibility for the misunderstandings. The WPR approach has matured and continues hopefully to reflect the insights generated by the many researchers who find it useful. I do my best to find ways to make WPR more responsive and flexible. I genuinely appreciate your comments, suggestions and questions as prompts to make improvements. So please keep in touch at carol.bacchi@adelaide.edu.au

References

Bacchi, C. 2009. Analysing Policy: What’s the Problem Represented to be?Frenchs Forest: Pearson Education. 

Bacchi, C. and Goodwin, S. 2016. Poststructural Policy Analysis: A Guide to Practice. NY: Palgrave Macmillan.

Bacchi, C. and Bonham, J. 2014. Reclaiming discursive practices as an analytic focus: Political implications. Foucault Studies, no. 17, pp. 173-192. 

Bacchi, C. and Bonham, J. 2016. Poststructural Interview Analysis: Politicizing “personhood”. In C. Bacchi and S. Goodwin, Poststructural Policy Analysis: A Guide to Practice. Palgrave Macmillan: NY. pp. 113-121.

In this entry I want to tell you the story of some of my earlier publications and how I ended up debating with myself over a particular issue – how the “problem” of “women’s inequality” was represented in women’s movement politics. Things might have been easier had I had the WPR approach to give me some guidance but in the cases I discuss here, WPR did not yet exist (and would not exist for a decade). It is possible, I believe, to see the emergence of the need for a WPR way of thinking in the material I proceed to analyse. 

I hope the story is of interest to you for other reasons as well. For one, it indicates that a researcher/theorist can and often does alter their position. It would be odd if that were not the case. What is more interesting is why they altered their position in this particular case, and what can be learnt from the episode. Second, I think the case reveals something about the “locatedness” of social theory. And third, the story indicates the reason WPR includes an undertaking to engage in self-problematisation. 

We will be looking at two books:

1. Liberation Deferred? The Ideas of the English-Canadian Suffragists, 1877-1918. University of Toronto Press. First edition 1983. Reprinted in 1985 and 1987.
2. Same Difference: Feminism and Sexual Difference. Allen & Unwin, 1990. Scheduled for reissue in Routledge’s Revival Series, 2024.

https://www.routledge.com/9781032829739

I want to forecast two important points:

1. In the 1990 book in Chapter 1 fn 3 (p. 272) I state that “the author [me] has dramatically altered her interpretation since the publication of Liberation Deferred? in 1983”. 
2. The 1983 book was based on my PhD thesis, completed at McGill University in 1976 (now I’m ageing myself!). The 1976 thesis title reads: Liberation Deferred: The Ideas of the English-Canadian Suffragists, 1877-1918. The 1983 book is titled: Liberation Deferred? Etc. – where did the question mark after the word “deferred” come from? What does it mean?

The Context

Liberation Deferred? (University of Toronto Press, 1983) set out to understand the “ideas” that motivated the English-Canadian women and men who joined “woman suffrage” organisations and who campaigned for women’s right to vote in the late 19^th and early 20^th centuries. My PhD involved gathering the “information” for this study. I travelled across Canada visiting the archives in each province (state) where I sought out membership lists for woman suffrage societies and where I proceeded to identity the interests of those who joined by looking at their other memberships. I found that women suffrage campaigners forged alliances with temperance and social purity organisations, child welfare leagues, urban planning movements, anti-prostitution campaigns, and similar sorts of reform.

I also found that many were professionals, or were married to professionals. Their support for woman suffrage indicated their hope that women could lend their voices to the reform causes just mentioned and help to defend the social order against political unrest and the destabilising effects of rapid industrial growth. Women’s assumed role as “keepers of the hearth” suggested that they would eagerly rally to this endeavour. 

The Debate

Liberation Deferred? forms part of a long-standing debate on the nature of what is commonly called “first-wave feminism”, which includes the suffragists. Here I quote the publisher’s 1983 Foreword:

“Historians have at times castigated the women of this movement for accepting and reinforcing traditional sex-role stereotypes for women. More recently (this is written in 1983) emphasis has been placed on their solid contributions to female liberation as they extended woman’s domain from the domestic to the public sphere.”

My interpretation

Not to put too fine a point on it, in the 1983 book, I came down on the side of those who found the suffragists’ agenda for change limited. Indeed, in the Preface (p. viii), I stated: “the limitations of this type of feminism are fairly obvious”. I elaborated this stance on p. 11: 

“Because they belonged to a social group which considered the family the key to the progress of society and the race, they did not question the conventional allocation of sex roles”. 

While acknowledging the role of “more radical feminists” I described the majority as committed to Protestant morality, sobriety and the family order (p. 3). I adopted the label of “maternal feminism” to describe this cohort, claiming this was “its chief and only contribution to women’s status in this period”. 

In the Conclusion (p. 145-146) I took up the debate about whether the suffrage movement had failed or succeeded, and suggested that it had succeeded but only in terms of the limited goals I had described. Unwisely, I concluded that only some suffragists could “legitimately be called feminists”, those who “demanded complete equality of the sexes [yes, we said “sexes” not “genders” in those days], including equal educational and occupational opportunities”. I described these “few feminists” who challenged “the supposed blessings of wifehood and motherhood” as voices in the wilderness. With the “takeover of the suffrage movement by the social reformers”, I declared, the reform “became moderate in their hands”. 

Why the title changed: where did the question mark come from? 

The PhD thesis (title without the question mark) was completed in 1976. Due to my move from Canada to Australia I lost touch with the first potential publishers. So, the book appeared only in 1983. The University of Toronto Press editors kindly pointed out that the debate on the issues raised in the thesis had “moved on”. How was I to reflect these changes in the book? My solution –inserting the question mark after Liberation Deferred suggested that the certitude in the PhD about the “deferral” of “liberation” among “maternal feminists” (no question mark) had softened, that at least the issue was debatable. I now wish this position could be made clearer in the text. However, it is sadly too late for amendments. 

How I changed my mind (Same Difference 1990) 

In the footnote 3 for Chapter 1 in Same Difference (mentioned above), where I state that I had dramatically altered my interpretation, I also offer a few reasons for the alteration: “the discovery of the 1980s that equal opportunity and justice were further apart than at first estimated, and the quite remarkable outpouring of feminist analyses in the last decade (1980s)”. The point being made here is that I had become less enamoured of an “equal rights” approach to “women’s inequality”. I had been doing my reading and had come to realize that aspiring to “equality” with men produced a limited range of desirable changes, that it was necessary to challenge the male norm not to join it. 

Onto Same Difference (1990) 

The major argument in Same Difference is that disagreements among feminists about possible reforms reflect the institutional contexts that shaped the options available. I suggest that talking about women’s sameness to or difference from men, a persistent theme in the media and some scientific research even today, mystifies what is really going on. 

A major focus in Same Difference is the shape of feminist arguments and attempting to explain their genesis. Inevitably, then, I had to reflect on the debates about the suffrage movement I had dismissed in Liberation Deferred? I pointed out how the representations of the suffrage campaign picked up the language of “sameness” and “difference”:

“Here the interpretation has been that the movement occurred in two phases, an earlier phase (1848-1890) concerned mainly with asserting women’s and men’s common humanity (the justice [or sameness]) argument, followed by a later phase (1890-1920), which emphasised women’s differences (the expediency argument)”. [Same Difference, p. 19]

I proceeded to explain why I found these debates less than useful: “Any attempt to divide the movement into “justice” or “expediency” camps, therefore, oversimplifies the historical reality” and that most suffragists “claimed equal human status at the same time as eliciting women’s particular virtues” [Same Difference, p. 20; emphasis in original].

You may now, hopefully, see that I had indeed shifted position or “changed my mind”. 

In Liberation Deferred? I had insisted that the suffrage movement did not operate in a vacuum and that, to understand the participants, we needed to understand the conditions shaping their worlds and their other reform affiliations. This is a fair enough point and probably makes Liberation Deferred? relevant in histories of the suffrage moment. 

What I forgot is that commentators (on the suffrage movement) also do not operate in a vacuum. We too need to be located historically. I had grown up as an equal rights feminist in the 1960s and these views are reflected in Liberation Deferred?. The position taken in Same Difference reflects my disappointments with an equal rights agenda and, as mentioned, the “remarkable outpouring of feminist analyses”. 

If you read Same Difference, you will notice that there is no longer an attempt to identify “legitimate” feminists. I hope it displays a greater sensitivity to the challenges involved in improving “women’s” lives. 

Locating Same Difference

Does this mean that I am completely happy with Same Difference? In fact, I would say that my position has altered yet again. As I currently embrace a non-binary view of gender relations, I could no longer comfortably refer to “sex-specific characteristics” as I do in Same Difference. I need to do more thinking on this point (a bit more self-problematisation), but I suspect there could a way to link non-binary thinking to the argument in Same Difference:

“ ‘Sameness’ and ‘difference’ in some abstract sense therefore are not in dispute. In dispute is the nature of the social arrangements which inadequately cater for the personal side of people’s lives.” [Same Difference, p. 265]

Changing my mind

The larger argument in this rather discursive entry is that changing one’s mind is a positive thing not a negative thing. It indicates a willingness to keep thinking and to keep questioning. If we accept that our theories reflect our social/political location, changing one’s mind is also inevitable. 

I have changed my mind at other times over my career. I’d be happy to share these experiences if you think it worthwhile. Please let me know if you would like further entries such as this one. Contact me at: carol.bacchi@adelaide.edu.auAll the best. Carol