A total of 60 young adults responded to vignettes presenting moral dilemmas experienced in caregiving interactions with a family member with dementia. Four types of reasons for deceiving (or not deceiving) a family member with dementia emerged: care reasons (improving the welfare of the person with dementia), justice reasons (universal principles), care-for-others reasons (protecting the welfare of others), and relationship reasons (maintaining the relationship). Care reasons and care-for-others reasons positively predicted moral decisions to lie, whereas justice reasons and relationship reasons negatively predicted these decisions. These findings underscore the importance of understanding the motives underlying deception in dementia relationships.
This paper examines and compares the impact of non-employment – more precisely female and male unemployment and female labour-market inactivity – on cohabiting and married couples’ separation risk in eastern and western Germany. Although Germany has experienced substantial changes in the spheres of family and labour market in recent decades, differences between the former East and West Germany persist even over 30 years after reunification. Applying conditional logistic fixed-effect models to German Socio-Economic Panel (SOEP) data, I find the following: in western Germany, where – despite a trend towards more egalitarian gender norms – traditional gender norms still prevail, male unemployment increases couples’ separation risk, whereas female labour-market inactivity reduces it. Examining change across two birth cohorts – women born in or before 1971 and women born after 1971 – I find for western Germany that the effects of male and female unemployment on couple separation appear to be converging, and the relationship-stabilising effect of female labour-market inactivity seems to be diminishing. This is in line with the trend towards egalitarian gender norms in that region. In eastern Germany, both female and male unemployment have a relationship-destabilising effect in the older birth cohort, which might reflect the more egalitarian gender norms there. However, the relationship-destabilising effect of male and female unemployment is diminishing, and can no longer be found in the younger birth cohort. Unexpectedly, for eastern German women born after 1971, labour-market inactivity is relationship-stabilising, which was not the case in the older cohort.
Science, in its very basic sense, means knowledge, from the Latin scientia; and democracy, in its very basic sense, means rule of the people, from the Greek demos (people) and kratos (rule). Throughout history, science and democracy have each developed with a keen ability to alter their shape in various contexts. Nevertheless, science has come to denote certain ways of producing knowledge as opposed to others, and democracy is associated with particular modes of governance as opposed to others. The reason why it is impossible to not use the plural in relation to these two concepts – ways of producing knowledge and modes of governance – is simply that there are multiple versions and practices of doing both science and democracy. Even so, science and democracy have taken shape as the grandeurs of modern societies. This suggests there is something fixed about them: science has become established as the best way of producing knowledge and democracy has become established as the best mode of governance. Of course, the grandeur refers to the general ideas and principles that are associated with science and democracy, respectively. Even though these ideas and principles have generated deep thoughts, lengthy discussions, and many thick books, dominating versions of both science and democracy can be summed up in one word: representation. Scientists represent nature and elected politicians represent the people. To gain legitimate authority, however, representations and representatives must resonate with the represented. It is this resonance and the relational aspect involved in both science and democracy that distinguish them as particular ways of producing knowledge and particular modes of governance.
This chapter traces breath in mothers’ stories about bushfires and the COVID-19 pandemic to contribute to a theorization of breath and breathing as feminist politics (Ahmed, 2010; Górska, 2018; Irigaray, 2004). Drawing on feminist new materialist thought that recognizes breath as intra-active phenomena (Barad, 2007; Górska, 2016), we configure breath as a mode reflection and attention to the material politics of living through crisis. We argue that breath is a material force that shapes lived experiences by materializing mother subjectivities that indicate inequalities around who bears responsibility for protecting children in crises. When the agency of the material world is acknowledged, smoky and virus-filled air eludes human control, leaving mothers to experience what one participant characterized as ‘mum-guilt’ over their ‘failure’ to prevent children’s exposure to the effects of smoke and COVID-19. A new materialist orientation to breath disrupts notions of human exceptionalism that scaffold notions of women having sole or primary control over the health and wellbeing of their (un)born children. Instead, women are recast as an inextricable part of a complex web of material relations where responsibility is materially distributed and not individually held. At a theoretical level at least, this conceptualization releases participants from ‘mum-guilt’ by recasting this responsibility to the world.
As an interlude, this chapter is an effort to connect, bridge, and provide an overlap between the other two parts of this book: Separation and Co-production. In this work, the picture of a clear division between science and politics is complicated. The focus is on science and politics as two separate activities with their own institutions and practices, but the chapter also turns to the question of how the interplay between science and politics is understood in terms of overlaps and connections. Better communication, increased proximity, or more interaction while maintaining an arm’s-length distance – there are many expressions of how science and politics connect and should be connected; and from the science side, they can be summarized as an ambition to make science relevant to policy, to make it close to politics but not too close (Gieryn 1995: 435, referring to Jasanoff 1990). In other words, policy-relevant research involves a balancing act between separation and integration (Sundqvist et al 2015, 2018). According to this view, research must be sufficiently separate to maintain its autonomy, but integrated enough to be socially relevant. This ambition entails a critique of an overly strong division, but also points out the risks that one side will take command of the other. From this perspective, a scientization of politics and a politicization of science are both highly undesirable and considered as risks. There is thus a need for a proper distance between science and politics. To be fair, it is noted that several of the approaches and perspectives presented in Chapter 3 devote a great deal of effort to understanding the interplay between science and politics.
This book explores the relationship between science and democracy from an STS perspective. Through the focus on the interplay between science and politics and the role of participation when it comes to highly expert-dependent issues, the book contributes important insights into the relation between science and democracy. The book also introduces STS as a field of research and presents an overview of classical and current STS scholarship and debates with a special focus on science and democracy. The main argument is that science and democracy belong together - they are co-produced - and are separate. The book takes the reader on a journey that starts by emphasizing the differences between science and democracy and then introduces their similarities and interdependencies. The journey goes through three parts: separation, overlap, and co-production. The book concludes by summarizing specific contributions of STS research to the discussion of science and democracy, based on four themes: representation and participation; separation and hybridization; situated practices and democratic theory; and STS and normativity.
This chapter goes deeper into the complex relation between science and democracy. Previous chapters discussed how science and politics are separate and that one elite (scientific experts) is delegated the power to represent nature (as knowledge objects) and another elite (decision makers, not only elected politicians but broadly speaking) is delegated the power to represent the people. This double delegation (delegative democracy) is based on a distinction between what is represented and who can represent. These two forms of representation divide the world into the two domains of knowledge and politics and, in addition, create a sharp division between those who are in power (the two elites) and those who are not (the ignorant mass). However, these separate domains are also interlinked, and the boundaries between them and their authority and legitimacy can always be questioned and change over time. The separation between science and democracy, between representatives and represented, is a joint product. One of the most important ideas within STS research is that knowledge and social order are intertwined or, as it is often expressed, co-produced (Jasanoff 2004a). Science and democracy are not independent from each other. Democracies legitimize and back up decisions and reforms with expert knowledge, and an uneven distribution of knowledge and education in a society is seen as a democracy problem (Sismondo 2010: 80). Governing requires knowledge, and science is intermingled with power. Science and democracy may be the result of a joint process, but they are often presented as separate, which has consequences for how practices are performed and leads to what they have in common being concealed. Knowledge is understood and presented as being independent of social order and power, especially in the scientific community.
The concluding chapter weaves together the key themes of the book, to reflect on the interconnection of community, politics and justice in communal growing projects, in the way they claim spaces in the city and their articulation of alternative and autonomous ways of living. It highlights the productive ambivalence of the spaces, particularly knitting together inclusionary and radical reimaginations of the city with boundary work and strategic neutrality that effectively positions the sites beyond politics. It argues that attending to the afterlives of growing, how it moves and changes, is critical both for assessing the politics of growing projects and for attending to their purported place in sustainable cities. The chapter offers reflections on what might be taken forward in such sustainable work and the enduring attraction of communal growing as a research space, as well as the shifting opportunity structure within Scotland’s policy landscape that might facilitate a greater value being placed on communal growing projects as a critical part of the city’s social infrastructure.