Dear All,
 
Golly. I woke up to find the list filled with posts that perplexed, annoyed, and amused me by turns.
 
After reading the entire series of posts again, I’m going to share my thoughts on the nature of conversation and debate in research communities. I am not discussing Tim Ingold’s work. This is a conversation about the thread, not about Jeremy Hunsinger’s original post or the responses to Jeremy, Ingold, or issues in Don Norman’s reply. I only refer to these to locate moments in a conversation about the list and what it is to enter a research conversation.
 
This is a long post. If the issue of debate and conversation in research culture is not your cup of tea, please delete.
 
While I don’t agree with Jeremy, Jeremy is debating the issues. Jeremy overlooked the explicit account in the conversation. The disagreement on flow was a disagreement on the description and nature of psychological flow states, not a debate on flow as a universal phenomenon. Ingold stated that he has a better model of flow states, asserting that true flow requires friction. Don said that Ingold has it wrong. Psychological flow — unlike the flow of a bow across a cello string — does not require friction. In essence, Ingold made a metaphorical argument in which he applies the physical reality of playing the cello to the concept of psychological flow that psychologists often exemplify by using music. Whichever side of the debate you take, this was a debate about a widely known and well-defined concept. Ingold and Don explicitly disagreed about a concept developed and defined by Mihalyi Csikszentmihalyi. In the conversation reported here, Don and Ingold explicitly disagreed about Csikszentmihalyi’s work, not about Lucretius or universal flow.
 
It is difficult to see how Lucretius or Heraclitus on flow can be used to describe the psychological flow state defined by researchers in the field. As Carlos Pires said, it’s apples and oranges. 
 
While I agree with Carlos and disagree with Jeremy, there is a BIG difference between their part of the conversation and the string of sermonettes that bugged me. The difference is that Jeremy argued the topic at hand. I appreciate Jeremy’s contribution even though I disagree.
 
Yesterday, Fiona Candy announced that she is “out of here - into the shadowy, exciting, sensual world of real life.” I find myself wondering where “here” is. Here, wherever we are, is also real life, or Fiona would not announce the fact that she is out of here. The worlds of research and scholarship are a real life of one kind, a subset of all the many kinds of real life that we live.
 
Those of us who work in universities live in a world partly made of words. The metaphors we use acknowledge this. We speak of the republic of learning, the life of the mind, dialogue and discourse, conversation and debate.
 
Fiona did not like the conversation on the list. She therefore made the claim that we are not real. In contrast, some sort of shadowy, exciting, sensual world is real. As I see it, there must be a sensual, emotional aspect to what happened here. If there wasn’t Fiona would not have become excited enough to walk out.
 
As I wrote yesterday, I disagree with Fiona’s condemnation of Don’s post. Don didn’t accuse Ingold of a “heinous crime” Don disagreed with Ingold. This is what happens in universities and research centres.
 
This led to my fascination, irritation, and amusement over so many ill-conceived posts to the list condemning Don for sharing a conversation. Thanks to Don’s account and further notes by Ann Light and Teena Clerke, I’m looking forward to reading Ingold for myself. I don’t see why people have been so cranky about someone recounting his part in a public debate. 
 
One aspect of the visiting lecturer’s role is encountering people who disagree with their views. These kinds of debates and conversations cross-fertilise thinking. It is one reason that first-rate universities such as UCSD bring leading researchers from other universities even though their own scholars are among the world’s best.
 
Whether ideas are right or wrong, engaging in these debates is part of what we do. If we are right while failing to make our views clear, coherent, and convincing, debates help us to sharpen our argumentation. Debates also help us to improve our thinking and to correct mistakes.
 
As a professor and public lecturer, Tim Ingold fills this kind of role. If Ingold did not want people to disagree with him, he would not visit first-rate universities where he is likely to meet people who will disagree. If he did not want others to report these disagreements and debates, he would not go to dinner with peers who are clear enough about their own views to disagree and smart enough to do so with skill.
 
If someone has a private dinner in which they discuss family life, catastrophic illness, or the confidential aspects of research project, it is private. To disclose such a conversation would be inappropriate and unethical. That’s not what happened here. Don recounted two public conversations.
 
That’s the life of the mind. At universities and research centres, we share conversations and debate issues. We even disagree.
 
Despite Fiona’s perception, no one accused anyone of a heinous crime. Don made it clear that Ingold is a fine person, likeable, and well read. Despite this, Don believes that Ingold is ill informed and mistaken on several issues. Golly.
 
It seems to me that one opportunity of any lively research environment is to witness or listen to conversations and disagreements among leading thinkers. If we’re not in the room, we get to learn about them up second hand over tea.
 
The University of California spent a great deal of money to host Tim Ingold. Don shared a bit of what they paid to hear. We got it free.
 
Ingold did well, too. I bought several of his books as a result of Don’s note, and I suspect that others may have done so as well. Ingold earned some money, and depending on my experience of the books, he may have a new reader.
 
Whether or not I agree with him on Csikszentmihalyi, I am interested in his approach and I may learn something new and useful from his ideas. The reason for my interest is that Don took Ingold seriously enough to write a pointed disagreement.
 
I regret the fact that Fiona thought this unpleasant. I am sorry that Martin Salisbury found it so. These are serious people and I respect them. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the account of a debate between someone whose work I know well and someone whose work I have not known.
 
Along the way, we had some odd posts.
 
Cameron Tonkinwise wrote a brief, cryptic note. The full text is:
 
“a list exploring and modelling best practice in design research.”
 
To me, this seems sardonic, ironic, or cynical — perhaps all three. [See 1, below, for definitions.]
 
Can anyone really describe PhD-Design as “a list exploring and modelling best practice in design research”? I wouldn’t. But I would not describe the list sardonically, ironically, or cynically, either.
 
My guess is that the Cameron was raising an eyebrow at us. If this guess is correct, he wants us to know that we fall short of his standards for best practice in design research.
 
Even so, Cameron does not describe best practice in design research.
 
Of course, Cameron’s comment may be quite straightforward. If so, I’d like enough detail to know what it is that he means.
 
In my view, this is a flawed and problematic list. That is the nature of any self-selected, unmoderated group. The open nature of the list is both a problem and a virtue. We’ve all known that for years. The irritating qualities of the list have caused several first-rate contributors to stop posting. Others read and never post, or nearly never do. 
 
But I want to compare this list with another list that was once quite similar, the DRS list. This is not David Durling’s monthly Design Research News, sponsored by the Design Research Society. It the DRS list on JISCMAIL, also sponsored by the Design Research Society. The DRS list was once quite lively.
 
In the year 2000, during the run-up to the La Clusaz Conference on Doctoral Education in Design, the DRS list was the site of an extensive debate. After a few months of careful, intelligent, but occasionally sharp exchanges, a list member complained to the moderator that the debate had gone on too long and had become … unpleasant. Given the fact that the conference and the preliminary debate were both sponsored by DRS, the moderator agreed that we could continue the debate until the conference but not afterward. This left us with the need for a forum of robust debate on the PhD in design and on related research issues.
 
After the earlier Ohio Conference on Doctoral Education in Design, Keith Russell and David Durling established the PhD-Design list to continue the conversations in Columbus. This never really took off. Instead, it was a vehicle waiting for use, and we decided to shift our conversations and debates over to this list.
 
The DRS list reached a high point of one thousand or so subscribers during the debate in 2000. It has shrunk since, to just over five hundred. It was formerly a lively list. A discussion list needs lively conversation to keep it alive, and those conversations have died on the DRS list. The DRS archive on JISCMAIL for 2014 reveals one post or two in five months between January and October, and five months without a single post.
 
The PhD-Design list has over 2,600 subscribers. Some conversations may be heated, but we read each other.
 
Is PhD-Design ”a list exploring and modelling best practice in design research”? Probably not. Is it a lively forum of conversation and debate? Yes. Because it is self-selected and unmoderated, we get intelligent posts and we get some posts that are not especially useful.
 
There are ways for researchers to develop lists that explore and model what they consider to be best practice in a research field. They create sheltered, invitation-only lists that are invisible to the web. Or they create moderated lists where subscribers must be approved before subscribing. It’s the online equivalent of an invitational conference. It works quite well.
 
But such lists serve different purposes, and they are generally inaccessible to the vast number of research students who are welcome here. They are often inaccessible to younger researchers who have not yet proven themselves by publishing influential, peer-reviewed work.
 
Which kind of list do you prefer?
 
Before closing, I will address Martin Salisbury’s comment. Martin writes, “Fiona! I agree with your original observation. Subsequent justifications have had the ring of the self-satisfied boys’ club. Let’s hope there will be no more anecdotal use of social conversations to hang people out to dry.”
 
Look, friends, I know from past experience that Martin genuinely doesn’t like debate that seems pointed or sharp in tone. Martin is the kind of fellow we would once have called a gentleman and a scholar, intending this as high praise. From list conversations and private correspondence, I have developed deep respect and appreciation for Martin’s views. Nevertheless, I disagree with Martin on this point.
 
There was explanation, but not justification, and I don’t think we’re a “self-satisfied boys’ club.” Don reported a public debate at a formal lecture. He reported a dinner conversation that took place during a formal university visit where people debate and discuss issues over dinner.
 
My comments may have seemed self-satisfied because of the light tone – Three Tenors, Three Stooges, and my dog Freddy. This was a mistake on my part.
 
So I will speak plainly: in my view, it is inappropriate to complain about one party to a debate reporting the debate in a related conversation elsewhere.
 
This is a research list. It is an online community in which we discuss and debate research ideas.
 
One list member (Jeremy) posted the work of a researcher (Tim Ingold). Another list member (Don) who actually knows the researcher reported his own views and conversations.
 
While Don’s note was an anecdote, he did not hang Tim Ingold “out to dry.”
 
Ingold is a public figure, as Don is. Ingold and Don debated some of those ideas at a public lecture. They debated other ideas at a dinner taking place in the public context of a university-sponsored visit. We’re debating Ingold’s public ideas in a public forum. 
 
Book reviews, critical commentary, and conversations such as this are all part of what we do when we think about and talk about the ideas of our peers and colleagues. To criticise the ideas put forward in a public debate is not a case of hanging someone out to dry.
 
If Tim Ingolds objected to others discussing and debating his work, he’d write secret, unpublished notes rather than publishing books and articles or giving lectures. This is the difference between Isaac Newton’s hidden theological writings and his published physics. Well, perhaps the prickly Sir Isaac is not the best example, but the point is clear.
 
If you publish your ideas in the hope that people will discuss them, you’ve got to accept the fact that people discuss your work.
 
Some years ago, I wrote a paper that earned me a lot of attention and part of an article in the Herald Tribune. A professor wrote me a courteous note to inform me that he thought it one of the worst articles he had ever read. He stated that it was methodologically unsound with problematic conclusions. Then he said that he wanted to use it in his research methods class as an example of bad research. He asked my permission to use it with my name removed.
 
I wrote back to say that it was published. Using it as an example of bad research did not require permission. But I asked him to leave my name on the article.
 
I was quite happy with the kudos that I earned for writing it. I accepted the fact that some people disagreed with me. If we are willing to accept the praise our work brings us, we must accept the fact that some will criticise us.
 
Our research community advances and grows through published work and through the public debate that our work generates. That’s what happened here. I just cannot understand the fact that people on this list do not accept the process.
 
Yours,
 
Ken
 
Ken Friedman, PhD, DSc (hc), FDRS | Editor-in-Chief | She Ji. The Journal of Design, Economics, and Innovation | Published by Elsevier in Cooperation with Tongji University Press | Launching in 2015
 
Chair Professor of Design Innovation Studies | College of Design and Innovation | Tongji University | Shanghai, China ||| University Distinguished Professor | Centre for Design Innovation | Swinburne University of Technology
 
—
 
[1] Quick definitions from Merriam-Webster’s Online. 
 
Sardonic: showing that you disapprove of or do not like someone or something : showing disrespect or scorn for someone or something : disdainfully or skeptically humorous : derisively mocking <a sardonic comment>.
 
Ironic: using words that mean the opposite of what you really think especially in order to be funny.
 
Cynical: : believing that people are generally selfish and dishonest : selfish and dishonest in a way that shows no concern about treating other people fairly.
 
 

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