A Thesis that Echos with My Past

[Originally submitted as an assignment for the module "Researching Society" in Univ. of Warwick, 10/2006. In this work we were asked to write a "intellectual autobiography" that relate our current research interest/project with our past experience.] [1]


Committing myself to a critical review of the academic activities of the sociologists in some Asian countries is by no means an accidental idea. Rather, this thesis reflects my ongoing self-inquiring of the role of intellectual in contemporary society, my concern about the Eastern-Western relations in the context of globalisation, and the interests of epistemological issues and academic politics I developed in my intellectual journey through the fields of chemistry, psychology and sociology. Each of these factors can be traced back to different stages of my life. But a water-shedding moment to start with would be the summer of 1993, when I defeated 140 competitors from 34 countries and won the Gold Medal of International Chemistry Olympia.

A Scholar-Wanna-Be Seeking His Field
Thirteen years from then, I can still recall the exhilaration in that dream-like summer. Flower ring on the airport, meeting Taiwan’s President, a large sum of scholarship and automatic admission to the Chemistry department in the most prestigious university in this island－all at once I seemed to achieve what many others could only dream of, and was on a way toward a bright future.

However, stepping down from the exciting height, what I felt was actually an unprecedented sense of lost. Having been encouraged to compete for either schools’ or country’s honour for years, I was finally allowed a chance to ask myself: am I really want to be a Chemist? Surely I want to become some kind of scholar. In traditional Chinese culture, becoming an elite intellectual has always been seen as the default goal for smart kids[2]. In fact, the Chinese name my parents chose for me has a pronunciation similar to the phrase ‘knowledgeable,’ and they’d told me to study for PhD when I was only six! I did incorporate this inking into my self-image, especially after a series of success boosted my confidence; but which field is for me? Furthering on my training in psychology is of course a sensible option. I did appreciate the beauty of the world that the knowledge of chemistry revealed to me; the emerging field of biochemical science also seemed a promising field. Yet whenever I stayed late in lab with bottles and devices, I still wondered: is that all my life would be?

Driven by curiosity to explore, I started to take courses from a wide spectrum. And soon I became convinced that, in shaping our life and future, humanity and social issues are far more important than pure science and technologies. I also found, compared with the well-established ‘paradigms[3]’ in chemistry, the less-settled nature of behavioral and social science sounds a greater challenge. So I changed my major to psychology[4].

Breaking up with Chemistry
Breaking up with the seemly promising career path in Chemistry evoked much doubts from my relative, friends and teachers. Some expressed a sense of pity; some accused me to be unrealistic and willful. And I can still recall how some Chemistry professors dismissed psychology as a ‘pseudo-science’ that won’t worth my talent.

At the age of 19 and still uncertain of many things, I was not ready to stand to argue with these high-profiling scholars. But this process of confrontation did leave some lasting marks in my mind:

First, it was the first time I started to ask why some ‘natural science’ like chemistry was (and may still be) seen as in some sense superior than psychology? In other words, I began to be aware of the interdisciplinary power structure and to feel doubtful.

Second, such doubt inevitably brought me to question and compare the different ‘nature’ of the two disciplines, such as their ends, their assumption of the world, and their ways of investigation, i.e. philosophical issues of ontology and epistemology.

Third, in a subtler, psychological level, it was like to be engaged in a life-long competition with another ‘possible me’ who continued to pursue the chemistry path. This may not be necessary from the stand point of psychological health, but it is this very anxiety for a justification of my decision that drove me along the way to look for ends higher than merely becoming a well-reputed scholar in university, and to question deeper about what values I would place as the axis of my life.

Doubts on Academia and the East-West Theme
Training in psychology didn’t answer the problems of values and ends directly, but it granted me discerning eyes for human mind and behaviour as well as skills to exert positive influences on others. Yes, I told myself this is what I am going to do－to be helper to others, and I did once consider pursuing advanced studies in social psychology or counseling training as path to this end.

However, I was halted later by more exposure to some local researches, because they seemed more like academic-jargon plays than genuine intellectual explorations. In particular, a large portion of these works seemed nothing but uncritical implantation of certain Western theoretical model on Taiwan that generated piles of ‘empirical’ data, which, from the eyes of a native resident here (me), makes little sense.

Disappointed and lost, I couldn’t help wonder: Must academic work be done by this way? Are scholars doing their job as the way they are supposed to? These questions brought me to reflect on the end and practices of academic research, again, but this time I went a bit further to ask how certain institutional characteristics of local academia (e.g., funding allocation, publication format) were influencing academic outputs, and that was my first encounter with sociology of knowledge.
In particular, I wondered how the existing modes of practices are related to the fact that psychology was a subject imported from the West[5]. This East-West thesis is no stranger for a child growing up in 1980s Taiwan. In school we were taught the disgraceful history of how China[6] and some other Asian countries was invaded by Western super powers in 19th centuries, while we are also taught how the West are nowadays symbols of the good, free, democratic, and modern world[7], as against to the bad communist world, which include our then enemy, communist China. Resentment (for what they’ve done) mixed with aspiration (for their modernity) and identity (we are on their side)－we as kids developed a fairy contradictory feelings of the West. And it was so natural that we place the tension of the relationship with the West as a central theme in any serious speculation about us.

Globalisation in Focus
With doubts of the academia reality I chose to join the ‘real world’ after graduating from university, first fulfilling the compulsory military service and later working as editor and marketing specialist for a leading publisher in Taiwan.
Within just a few years, I witnessed not a few tremendous changes in Taiwan. I saw the rise of cyber-biz along with the digital anxiety since 1998, I experienced Taiwan’s agony over diversified identities on 2000’s President Election[8], I witnessed the worst-ever economic setback in 2001[9], and I observed the turmoil and debates after 9-11. Each of these events affected the lives of many individual, and yet none of them can be adequately understood without something of greater scope (e.g. technology, national identity, global economy, international relations) is taken into account[10]. And all these issues seemed converge in one word: globalisation. To explore more on globalisation, I went to London School of Economics in 2002 studying for MSc in Sociology.

A Conjunction of Future and Past
Three years after graduating from LSE, I came to Warwick with a project aimed to investigate (1) how sociologists in some Asian countries negotiate their Western training in the study of locally embedded phenomenon, and (2) how has the process so-called ‘academic globalisation’ impacted their work.

This project echoes with various themes in my past. The thesis lies within the field of sociology of knowledge, a field that I was drawn to in my undergraduate year. It should have some solid epistemological discussion as grounding and implies some analysis of academic politics; both are themes I became interested in since I changed my major. And the project also reflects my constant concern about how Taiwan is related to the West, now discussed in the theoretical context of globalisation.
In a deeper level, this is also a study about how a group of elite intellectuals play their role in contemporary. How do they interpret their work? Was that serving to their ends and values? These are the issues I’ve been asking myself for years, and I am keen to hear their answers.

A PhD thesis is for me like a conjunction of time. It concludes some key elements of my past, and set out a future agenda, with a list of question to be answered.

Reference
Kim, U., Yang K .S. & Hwang K. K. (2006) Indigenous and Cultural Psychology: Understanding People in Context. New York: Springer.
Kuhn, T (1970) The Structure of Scientific Revolution. 2nd. Ed., Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Mills, C. W. (1959) The Sociological Imagination. New York: Oxford University Press.

Endnotes
[1] This article is aimed to be a reflection of my personal intellectual journey. Everything I described was included because it is considered relevant to the development of my academic interest and those choices I made. It was NOT my intention to argue for any of the statement, historical or sociological, described. So readers shall bear in mind the subjectivities of the paragraphs and excuse the author for not providing substantial citations or proof for the descriptions.
[2] Traditional Chinese culture has a four-tier class structure for classifying people: Shi, Nong, Gong, Shang, which means elite, intellectual farmer, worker and businessman respectively.
[3] I came across Kuhn’s The Structure of Scientific Revolution in 1994 and absorbed his concept of paradigm as a conceptual tool in evaluating the development of different disciplines.
[4] I was then only allowed to transfer within the College of Science, which prevent me from considering any social scientific disciplines.
[5] Some psychologist always felt doubtful for the superficial imitation of the Western psychological research then and hailed for the need of ‘indigenous psychology,’ see Kim et al, 2006.
[6] In my high school days, we were still taught to call ourselves ‘China’ (officially named ‘Republic of China’) and the regime in mainland as ‘rebel government.’
[7] This is due to the fact that Taiwan was an US-ally during the cold war.
[8] In the 2000 Presidential Election, the pro-Chinese-identity Nationalist Party (a.k.a. Kuomingtang, or KMT) lost and transferred power to the pro-Taiwanese-identity Democratic Progressive Party (DPP). This ended KMT’s 51-year ruling since the end of Pacific War. See Entry ‘ROC presidential election, 2000’ on Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ROC_presidential_election,_2000, assessed on 17/10/06.
[9] In 2001, Taiwan suffered from its first-ever economic decline (GDP growth rate -2.17%), which resulted in a sharp increase in the unemployment rate (2.99% in 2000, 4.57% in 2001, 5.17% in 2002). See http://investintaiwan.nat.gov.tw/en/env/stats , assessed on 17/10/06.
[10] This is where Sociological Imagination takes place, see Mills, 1959.