Saturday, 21 January 2012

The Paradigm of Bruno Latour in Contemporary Sociology of Science (rough copy in English by Giselle Rakobowchuk) BA in Sociology at University of Pécs 2010 BA Thesis



1.    Science: Its own Master?

Until the relatively recent emergence of the study of science as a field of scientific research and perhaps since the triumph of the French Revolution’s rational principles, the questions of truth, knowledge and reason have been entrusted to the care of the ‘nobility of science’, the princes, duchesses and counts donned in their uniform mantles of ‘white lab coats’ and the scholastic decrees issued by these scientists have been accepted as the correct and the only plausible interpretations of the world surrounding us. With the appearance of Thomas S. Kuhn’s “The Structure of Scientific Revolutions” in 1962, a revolution of its own swept through Francis Bacon’s fort of ‘una scientia universalis’ (Bacon), fracturing it into the myriad fragments of postmodern thought and inquiry. Latour – fortress of sociology? The objectivity of science and its established principles are today in the impregnable ivory towers of the scientists themselves being continually evaporated though it is still feasible to say what Robert Merton stated in 1970, that “even now, there are scholars who would argue that science goes its own way, unaffected by changes in the environing social structure” (Merton 1973: 176).

Continued after break line (read more)


Wednesday, 8 September 2010

Destination Dark

When a question is raised, an answer too often is wanting...


There was nothing particularly wrong with her surroundings. Everything seemed to be as it should be. She settled with that thought.


Du-dum, du-dum...Du-dum, du-dum...

The pane of the glass was foggy. The grey layer of travel decrepit.


Du-dum, du-dum...Du-dum, du-dum...


She sought the sheet of paper ascertaining it was white as snow and placed it on the small tray by the window. Her pencil she raised and hesitated a moment or two before drawing a few swift, thin lines. This action was repeated a few times until the contours grew thicker, stronger.


Du-dum, du-dum...Du-dum, du-dum...


Though the faint glare of light above her failed at times and flickered there was nothing wrong with the electric circuit either. The drawing formed a visage. The white sheet was only blotted by a few varying shades of graphite. Her compartment was small, she occupied it alone.


Du-dum, du-dum...Du-dum, du-dum...


The visage was aligned with the memory of imagination. The soft tints that shaped his face she coloured with hope; the powerful strokes with courage. Her eyes set their gaze upon the portrait and she smiled.

Du-dum, du-dum...Du-dum, du-dum...


It was black outside; no matter how many times her cold hands tried to clean the glass from those layers of fog and filth and time...no matter how hard she tried to peer outside, there was nothing to see. The dark outside passed her by with no need to reveal its changing forms. And the carriage rattled on.


Du-dum, du-dum...Du-dum, du-dum...

The other passenger cars were empty. The hours spent upon the hard bench too enduring to remember and the hours remaining; impossible to know. The tracks of steel and stone stretched interminably.
And the train travelled on. To destination dark.