ALBERT

Notes: Abstract An analysis of the way in which primary age children design, particularly when working with a professional designer, suggests that there are several similarities in approach between the two. This observation is supported by evidence from developmental psychology, which has stressed the crucial role which ‘play’ performs in developing children's inventiveness and ability to solve problems. Subsequent research focusing on children's designing suggests that this play is fundamental to designing activity, and extends naturally into the more formalised activities of drawing and modelling. Through playing and using narrative language to describe their actions, children are learning to interpret their own mental images. To develop these images and make them more concrete children use their hands in drawing and modelling whilst drawing on their accumulated personal knowledge about the activity of designing, in a similar way to that in which professional designers make use of their own, highly sophisticated skills to bring an idea to concrete fruition. By comparison with some of the rigid models of ‘the design process’ described in schools, designers and children may have more in common than we realise.

Notes: Abstract This study reports on students' engineering-related discourses before and after a unit which focused on children's development of tool-related and discursive practices in the domain of structural engineering. Video-and audiotaped small and large-group interviews, student-produced artifacts, and videotaped small and large group activities in a mixed Grade 4/5 class constituted the data sources. Comparison of students' engineering-related images and talk before and after the instructional unit revealed considerable differences. The study has implications for the design of learning environments in which developing language-inuse is fostered rather than parroting teacher-and textbook-framed definitions.

Notes: Abstract Quantitative methods for evaluating the environmental impact of products are receiving considerable attention. Software is being developed to enable analysis of many aspects of a product's life cycle—from materials' extraction, through manufacture, to use and disposal. Less attention is being paid to the qualitative aspects of products and their significance in addressing environmental concerns. Here, the argument is made for including qualitative evaluations as an important facet of product environment assessment. Such evaluations are essential if significant progress is to be made in alleviating the adverse environmental effects of products. Combined with quantitative analyses, the two approaches become mutually supportive and, ultimately, inseparable. Qualitative environmental assessments can be applied to existing products and at every stage of the design process. Their adoption within the context of professional practice will be fostered by their inclusion, formulation and discussion within design education. This paper describes the basis and nature of these qualitative judgments, and places the qualitative and quantitative in a unified context which points towards more sustainable ways of living. The use of ‘scenarios’ is discussed as a tool for academic design projects in order to address the complex relationships which might otherwise seem overwhelming to the design student.

Notes: Abstract Technical education involves programmes, disciplines, but also a level of competence to be reached by students, in reference to social practices outside of school. Technical teacher education must not only include competence in these social practices but must also develop specific, practical teaching skills. Today a rapid evolution in academic disciplines has been observed, partially linked to the circulation of models. the present study is concerned with the transformation of models within these exchanges and attempts to extract knowledge that would be useful for decisions to be made concerning teacher education.

Notes: Abstract Attitudes play an important role in guiding and predicting future actions. In Hong Kong, where traditional attitudes regarding female and male roles often clash with more-modern influences, students' negative or positive attitudes toward technology have obvious implications for their participatory role in society. This paper reports on a study of Hong Kong Pupils' Attitudes Toward Technology. Items in a survey distributed to nearly 3,500 junior secondary school students were used to gauge their attitudes toward several areas of technology. Questions related to parents' careers and domestic influences were also asked. The analysis revealed that significant differences existed between girls and boys in many of the items. For instance, the importance of taking technical subjects such as Design & Technology (D&T) was found to be significant in their attitudes about technology being an activity for both genders. Similarly, students' interest in technology, attitudes about technology in the school curriculum, and ideas about careers related to technology showed significant differences between girls and boys. Given the results of the study, changes in Hong Kong's secondary school D&T are proposed. Current strategies being developed in Hong Kong's D&T teacher preparation programs are also outlined.

Notes: Abstract The PATT (Pupils’ Attitude Towards Technology) questionnaire, as validated for the USA, was used to assess and analyse South African learners’ attitudes towards technology. The responses of 500 girls and 510 boys, from the Gauteng Province in South Africa, were analysed using a principal component and a principal factor analysis. The explained variance was rather low and indicated that the questionnaire needed adaptation for the South African context. The outcomes of the research were positive in that there were no significant differences regarding the gender attitudes that ‘technology should be for all’ and that ‘technology makes contributions to society’. The fact that girls have a stronger gender discrimination view related to themselves regarding technology needs to be addressed in future curriculum development issues.

Notes: Abstract Psychologists have shown that knowledge can be acquired independent of practical action, by observing and imitating others and by extracting knowledge from vicarious experiences coded in text. Yet experiential learning theorists suggest that real learning takes a practical event to embody it. In schools we ask our students to learn through study. This paper examines a concept of learning in which personal experience is the base or framework for learning. Oundle Public School has a tradition of learning through technology workshops. Using the case study and narrative research traditions, the author illuminates the philosophy behind this orientation. The period of history which spawned the orientation has many parallels to the information revolution we are witnessing today. The response by the headmaster then, including the curriculum policy and implementation issues which relate to it, are central to the debates and responses which characterize curriculum change now. The philosophy that gives Oundle its reputation in technological education is visited, the lessons it imparts are reviewed.

Notes: Abstract This article describes research done among M. Eng. students in several faculties of the Eindhoven University of Technology into their abilities to integrate nontechnical (social) elements in the research that led to their M. Eng. theses. It was found that these students often lacked research skills (the abilities to define the research problem, to comment upon research methodology, to reflect upon research outcomes). As a result, they also tended to neglect social factors relevant to their engineering research. Recommendations to improve this situation are formulated for the curriculum of engineering education programmes.

Notes: Abstract Technology is a force that reshapes society, the dominant organizer which fundamentally changes everything. It provides material comforts and benefits but can change social patterns and values. Major innovations are happening simultaneously, stretching biological, mental and social adaptation to the limit. Technological decision making relies on an equal focus on three areas: resources (knowledge and information), expression (skills and practices) and responsibility (values and ethics). Decisions cannot be left to the ‘blackbox’ stage when functioning is effectively hidden from view and the technology has entered our culture. Similarly, participation in decision making cannot be left to a select few but must be the role of every citizen. Ensuring full participation in decisions should form the central role of technology education if it is finally to be recognized as a full member of the ‘general education club’. All students must be able to reflect, develop ethical standards and demonstrate how values are expressed through technology.

Notes: Abstract Characteristics of teamwork in modern organizations and workplaces are examined, in order to extrapolate the means for imparting teamwork skills within technology education. Goals and tasks for the team, team composition, team-player styles, phases of team development, communication and interpersonal skills, decision making, leadership, and evaluation of team performance are discussed. Teamwork skills are acquired gradually as a result of experience. Mere provision of a joint task to a group of people does not produce teamwork spontaneously. In order to promote teamwork, technological tasks at school need to include considerable degrees of freedom and decision-making by pupils. When the teacher becomes a facilitator of the process, instead of being primarily a source of knowledge and a decision-maker, team members can determine the assignment of roles in the group by themselves. Evaluation of teamwork in technology education is an integral part of ‘alternative assessment’.

Notes: Abstract Construction-based activity in schools is an essential part of the design and technology curriculum. This paper examines issues behind the evolution of construction kit based activity with a particular focus on some of the individuals who have invented construction kits in the course of the last two hundred years. Consideration has been given to the range of possible influences in their lives that may have shaped the creation of new kits -- especially childhood experiences with contemporary early construction kits. The historical development and properties of construction kits are mainly explored from a structural perspective.

Notes: Abstract In secondary schools in England and Wales, Design and Technology may be taught through various organisational structures. Some are essentially integrated approaches in which contributory subject areas cooperate closely in working on a common theme. Others are specialist where contributory areas work independently. A third group represents a federal approach which, in essence, is a compromise between these. Sixty teachers (twenty from each kind of organisational structure) assessed the work of three 14-year-old students working on three different designing and making tasks. Even though they were familiar with the kind of assessment expected and had descriptions of particular levels of attainment, their assessments showed wide variations. Furthermore, teachers in specialist organisations tended to value one task over another while those in integrated organisations reversed the order of favour. The response of those in federal organisations tended to fall between the others. These differences might be explained on the basis of differences in subcultural norms regarding what constitutes the proper domain of design and technology activity. Some implications of this for assessing and moderating work in design and technology are discussed.

Notes: Abstract British and American discourses and experiences with respect to technology education are compared. Out of this comparison important issues are identified that have implications for the larger ongoing conversation on technology beyond these countries. They include the role of the state in establishing and validating the subject, the dual claims of technology literacy and technological capability, and dual curricular approaches — content and process.

Notes: Abstract The increasing complexity of work and social life demands that people possess conceptual understanding and intellectual skills in order to gain the desired level of competence. Unfortunately, the development of high level cognitive skills is a complex task that has not been sufficiently addressed in education. This chapter discusses the nature of intellectual skills and identifies numerous problems that educators face when they attempt to emphasize these skills in their curriculum. Through a comparison of the characteristics of formal and informal learning environments, the author identifies four elements of informal learning that guide the creation of high level intellectual skills. Incorporating the four elements of informal learning in formal instruction can lead to robust opportunities for students to gain conceptual understanding and develop their intellectual skills.

Notes: Abstract This paper discusses the potential of Design and Technology (D&T) as an environment for collaborative problem solving. Peer collaboration is considered to be a valuable learning mechanism but has not generally been exploited by teachers or explored by researchers in this context. D&T is unique in involving procedural problem-solving activity where talk between peers relates to physical manipulation and feedback and both concrete models and graphical representations play an important mediating role. The role of teachers is central to our discussion, particularly their task structuring, agendas and pedagogic strategies for supporting learning through collaboration; these have been underplayed in much of the general research literature on collaboration. Our discussion works towards a framework for analysing collaborative problem-solving activity in D&T, building on sociocultural perspectives and deriving additional insights into pupils' social and cognitive strategies from the literature on classroom talk.

Notes: Abstract This paper points out that technology education has historically had many principles and practices which reflect an underlying philosophy, but that the philosophy has not been made explicit by many technology education practitioners. As philosophy helps technology educators understand alternatives, make decisions and take action in both curriculum and instruction, it is important for technology educators to ask philosophical questions at the onset of their work to understand the implications of their actions. A brief discussion about some of the philosophies that inform educational practice in North America provides a background for an analysis of the different philosophies in relation to technology education, and provides insight into the significance of reconstructionism, an outgrowth of pragmatism, as a philosophy in which to frame and describe technology education. This is illustrated through several examples of a reconstructionistic approach to technology education.

Notes: Abstract Philosophy of technology is a discipline that has much to offer for technology education. Insights into the real nature of technology and its relationship with science and society can help technology educators to build a subject that helps pupils get a good concept of technology and to learn to understand and use concepts in technology. Here the way science educators have gained from the philosophy of science, for example in the idea of the way pupils learn concepts by reconstructing pre-concepts that they picked up from daily-life experiences. Research has shown that the learning of concepts and the learning of process skills have to be connected.

Notes: Abstract The ideas that underlie the title of this chapter have been part of a familiar debate in education, namely that of the contrast of content and process. In both science and mathematics similar arguments have taken place, and these debates represent a healthy examination of, not only the aims of science and mathematics education, but the teaching and learning issues, and as such they reflect the relative maturity of these subject areas. Even in technology education, which is still in its infancy as a subject, echoes of these debates exist and there are contrasts of approaches to the balance of process and content across the world. The 'debate' in technology is evangelical in nature, with for example, proponents making claims for problem-solving approaches as a basis for teaching with few accounts and almost no empirical research of what actually happens in classrooms. There is insufficient consideration of the learning issues behind this, or other proposals, and it is timely to turn our attention to student learning. This article examines the nature of technological knowledge and what we know about learning related to it. The article argues that learning procedural and conceptual knowledge associated with technological activity poses challenges for both technology educators and those concerned with research on learning.

Notes: Abstract Starting with the distinction of natural science, engineering science ("technology") and engineering practice ("technics"), the paper will stress the difference between technological and technical knowledge. The first part will discuss the relationship between science and technology, arguing that technology is a genuine type of knowledge rather than "applied science". In technics, however, even technological laws, as transformations of scientific laws, cover a certain part of knowledge only. The greater part of technical knowledge includes technical know-how, functional rules, structural rules, and socio-technological understanding, which is just developing in our times. The classification of knowledge types will be used for determining which kind of knowledge may seem appropriate to general technological education.

Notes: Abstract Methodology offers a perspective on technology that differs from a historical or sociological one. It focuses on the scientific, technological and social factors that are to be taken into account in technological developments. Other approaches tend to focus on actors other than factors. The (design) methodological approach is illustrated by the case study of the development Active Matrix Liquid Crystal Displays in a small Dutch company. It appears that problems emerge when this development is not dealt with according to the nature of the technologies that are involved. In technology education such insights can be used to prevent practices in which pupils are naively taught to work according to standardised design process prescriptions that do not take into account the nature of the product that is to be designed.

Notes: Abstract This paper reports on the analysis of student (ages 6–15 years) technological capability as they undertake technological tasks. The activities covered a number of different contexts (including different subject areas), and had differing degrees of openness and methods of presentation. Data was obtained from 261 of the 400 students that took part in the classroom activities. A holistic approach to analysing student performance was developed and this provided insights into the strategies adopted by the students. Some preliminary conclusions are: the focus of students on an end-product meant that they did not fully consider the processes that might be required to solve the problem; student technological approaches were influenced by the culture of the classroom; and existing concepts of technological processes influenced the approaches undertaken.

Notes: Conclusion Academic freedom is thus a complex ideal, and I have argued that in many respects it has a more limited application than some of its protagonists seem to believe. Many of the arguments for it, moreover, are not peculiar to academics and universities. We would therefore be well advised to take seriously Eric James' injunction “to think less of universities as having rights to additional and peculiar liberties, and to regard them more as places where the essential liberties of a civilised state find strongest champions, champions, moreover, who by reason of the intellectual strength which they possess, and the intellectual integrity which they defend, have a particular responsibility”.36 But it is beyond rational doubt that the continuation of civilised states as civilised depends on the maintenance of, among other things, academic freedom, and particularly of what I have called scholarly freedom.

Notes: Conclusions The “centre-periphery” relationship historically structured scientific exchanges between metropolis and province, between the fount of empire and its outposts. But the exchange, if regarded merely as a one-way flow of scientific information, ignores both the politics of knowledge and the nature of its appropriation. Arguably, imperial structures do not entirely determine scientific practices and the exchange of knowledge. Several factors neutralise the over-determining influence of politics—and possibly also the normative values of science—on scientific practice. In examining these four examples of Indian scientists in encounters with their peers at the centre, exceptional scientists are seen in a social context where the epistemology of science supposedly describes its practice. Imperialism imposes practices and patronage, which moderate the exchange of scientific knowledge. But, at Level Two, the politics of knowledge and the patterns of patronage within it mediate exchanges between the centre and the periphery. The first step in reconfiguring exchanges between centre and periphery —in this case, between Europe and India during the period 1850 to 1930— is to recognise the relation between the acquisition of resources and the maintenance of legitimacy and identity.67 Political life is not confined to the core of political institutions.68 Second, in examining science as practised in the colonies, it is necessary to see stages of scientific institutions, whose development structures the exchange. From the encounter of Ramchandra and De Morgan, it is evident that the centre-periphery framework should be separated from the models of transmission embedded within it. The notion of “translation” helps to suggest that scientists bring personal motives and meanings to each encounter. Ramchandra, for example, sought a novel method of teaching Indians calculus, while De Morgan's interest lay in finding a place for algebra in a liberal education. The hierarchy inherent in the centre-periphery framework compels the conclusion that, at Level Two, the autodidact outside the institutions of science must have his work presented to scientists at the centre by authoritative figures from the centre. This is not mainly a question of imperialism, but rather of patronage. The peripheral scientist could not be granted direct entry into the collegial circle until his efforts at the periphery could be translated into the language and concerns of the central community. Ramanujan's enigmatic formulas were translated into the language of analysis by Hardy, which enabled the creation of a field to which Hardy was committed. Scientists from the periphery who were already part of the circle by virtue of their training, were not necessarily subject to the same degree of attestation as other scientists from the periphery. P.C. Ray, with his DSc from Edinburgh, and his position at Calcutta University, had less difficulty in winning the trust of colleagues at the centre, even when he returned to India. On the contrary, remaining at the periphery, he moved from a context of patronage to a sphere of competition. In addition, Ray's collegiality, even at Level Two, was more comprehensive, and connected him with Level One. Eventually, the professional Indian science graduate found collegiality within the international community of scientists. Saha's self-imposed progressive nationalism constrained his identification with the centre and made him a potential competitor instead. Once having achieved eminence in the world of science, C.V. Raman and Saha shifted their work to journals of physics published in India in order to further the cause of physics research in their own country.69 To go beyond the limitations of the centre-periphery model, it is necessary not merely to examine exchanges between scientists functioning in a “shared epistemological universe”,70 but also to recognise the part played by institutions, the experience of colonialism, and the forms of patronage characterising both colonialism and science. Put another way, although there is relative epistemological autonomy within the disciplinary research communities of science, the interplay between knowledge and power structures this exchange. The scientific links between colonial India and Britain at the turn of the century were mediated by structures which prefigured change. Does structure determine all? If it does, we are left with an Orientalist reconstruction of the docile native, and a passive cultural medium into which science percolates. But this neglects the role of scientists in creating new structures within which they worked. A middle position—one more sensitive to the exigencies of colonial scientific life—would be one where the participants are seen not as the dupes of “structure nor the potentates of action”, but as occupying a ground between the two.71

Notes: Conclusions An interest in economic development has been extended to a set of research universities which since the late nineteenth century had been established, or had transformed themselves, to focus upon discipline-based fundamental investigations.21 The land-grant model was reformulated, from agricultural research and extension, to entrepreneurial transfers of science-based industrial technology by faculty members and university administrators. The norms of science, a set of values and incentives for proper institutional conduct,22 have been revised as an unintended consequence of the second revolution. This has happened through an accretion of gradual organisational changes that often go unnoticed, and through conflict that disrupts the status quo and makes change evident. The two forms of normative change became apparent in the emergence of group research and in controversies over conflicts of interest. With extensive financial support from government, large research groups began to replace the traditional form of professor and graduate student—still commonplace in the humanities—as the typical way of organising research, although group leaders were called “individual investigators”.23 Possessing many of the characteristics of a small business, apart from the profit motive, some of these research groups or “quasi firms” are only a short step away from turning into companies when the opportunity arises. Disputes about conflicts of interest are a step towards the transformation of norms. How they are resolved suggests the shape of the new norm; their continuation indicates that the outcome is still in question; their intensification increases the likelihood that a practice will be defined as deviant. Some conflicts of interest will be resolveable as norms change; others will be defined as fraud and be dealt with by the legal system. Conflicts of commitment may also be amenable to resolution, for example, by granting leave to establish a company. Integrating campus and company research reduces some of the potential for conflict, especially when the university holds the intellectual property rights in question. Under these new normative conditions what is left of the idea of the university as a source of disinterested expertise? As molecular biology departments have developed a complex network of industrial ties a new critical discipline of environmental science has grown up in academia. Universities are flexible institutions, capable of reconciling many diverse missions.

Notes: Conclusions This study clearly reveals that the benefits ascribed to strategic planning typically are achieved through a variety of means. A formal process that seeks to plan in a comprehensive, linear fashion is likely to be too complicated, politically divisive, expensive and inflexible, and to ignore how decisions are made in a complex, highly decentralised university. While many approaches to planning are used, universities must ensure they provide periodically opportunities for university staff—freed from daily responsibilities—to consider strategic concerns. Accurate and relevant information must be available to all who make and carry out decisions. Planning should be viewed as a learning process rather than a document producing exercise. Extensive communication among university staff and faculty is needed to ensure informed debate and substantial acceptance of decisions—otherwise they are unlikely to be implemented. Perhaps most important is not the process employed but the decision-maker's breadth of perspective and sophistication. No process will overcome lack of competent leadership. The importance of daily decision-making in various councils and committees on issues such as cost containment and budgetary priorities is underestimated in the literature on planning. Critics have doubted whether universities' structures and processes permit them, or their leaders have the resolve, to confront the emerging issues. However, in many respects, the universities' decentralised, multiple decision-making practices may suit them well. They face the same challenging societal changes as other sectors of society. Their staff include some of the most capable individuals in the United States, and in the past they have been highly adaptable during periods of profound social change. Universities do not appear to be less aware of the need to adapt, nor more constrained in adapting to new conditions, than other sectors of society. In fact, university research and scholarship will be highly important in pointing the way for the whole of society to meet this era's challenges. If pessimistic predictions about current trends turn out to be accurate, universities no doubt will adapt at least as well as other kinds of institutions. The travails of business in this environment are daily news! There will be occasional casualties among the universities, as frequently occurs during major social transitions, but institutions that have grown in importance for over 1,000 years, will doubtless emerge from this period perhaps somewhat changed but still performing their historic social functions.

Notes: Conclusions The academic standing of the staff working in vocational higher education must be judged as unsatisfactory according to two possible criteria: the traditional criteria, which are derived from the universities operating within the previous unitary higher education system; and the criteria outlined by the bill of the Law of Higher Education Institutions. The latter derive from the same historical institutional pattern. There are many reasons to conclude that, academically, in most fields of study, the new institutions do not reach the level of the old ones. However, the mission of the new sector—the second-rank academic institutions in the eyes of the traditional academic community—is at least debatable, if not mistaken. The public university sector appears to be in deep crisis, with academics so attached to the Humboldtian university that they ignore the claims for social relevance in education.8 This is further complicated by deepening financial hardship. Using traditional criteria, it is possible that Estonia will be left with two socially irrelevant higher education sectors, instead of one functioning sector. It is also possible that the second sector, which does not fit these criteria, will be eliminated. However, the fault does not lie wholly with the dominance of traditional university attitudes. It also lies in a lack of vision on the part of the new institutions. As children of the proletariat society, they fail to recognise their vocational orientation as a benefit, and instead try to hide it. They are developing theoretically overloaded four- to five-year study programmes. None of these institutions has solved the problem of balancing the requirement of employing 50 per cent faculty full time and maintaining a satisfactory academic level. The need to demonstrate that part-time employees may actually benefit the vocational sector has not yet been understood.9 As long as the sector continues to accept the rules forced upon it by the old universities, it probably has no useful role in Estonia. Its institutions, especially the public institutions, cannot compete with the traditional universities in academic fields. The universities, on the other hand, are beginning to understand that the policy they proclaimed some years ago, which was based on the clear distinction between two sectors on the German pattern, does not work in a small country with very limited resources, and an inheritance from the previous regime of a large university sector with an enrolment rate of more than 20 per cent of the age group. The universities have agreed to offer their own non-degree courses at diploma level, and now seriously threaten the small new institutions. From the financial point of view, the universities' expressed desire to swallow the small vocational institutions is beneficial since the small institutions have no clearly distinct role of their own. The private vocational higher education institutions do not conceal the fact that, according to their own vision, they have little place in the vocational sector. Some of them would like an official status equal to that of the universities, the right to offer graduate and postgraduate courses as well as diploma courses, and the registration of their diplomas and certificates on an equal basis with the public universities in the Register of Diplomas and Certificates at the Ministry of Culture and Education. In other words, they are interested in becoming fully accredited universities. This increases competition for students and—given the Estonian mechanism of public financing of higher education based on the number of students admitted provided by the Ministry of Culture and Education10—there will be less money for public universities. Here lies the origin of the principle that the universities are established by parliament and the vocational higher education institutions by executive action by the government. The existence of the new sector is seriously threatened. The current pattern of postgraduate studies has blocked the preparation of a sufficient number of research-degree holders, even at master's level.11 The new institutions cannot train their own faculty. The recent experience of Concordia International University—which depends greatly on staff with bachelor's and master's degrees from the United States, who form some 80 per cent of the faculty—demonstrates that the participation of first- or even second-rank Western academics in Estonian higher education can never be very high. If the system cannot accept experienced local staff for legal appointments in the vocational sector, unless they have a research degree, these institutions will not survive for long. Society will be back to the position where there are a large number of underpaid or unemployed academics, but a shortage of qualified individuals who could be self-employed and capable of running small and medium-size enterprises.

Notes: Revisionist historians of the nuclear age have long argued that it was not necessary to have used the atomic bombs in August 1945 to bring the Second World War to an end, and that a more conciliatory approach by the Truman administration towards the Soviet Union—being franker with Stalin about the bomb and giving him an assurance that it would not be used—would have created a better chance of achieving a less confrontational postwar relationship between the two powers. They have also challenged the “myth” that the reason for using the bombs was to save American lives.

Notes: Conclusions On the basis of these findings, I suggest that the structure and organisation of the field of Hungarian economics under state socialism should be described as a case of “partitioned bureaucracy”.9 The compromise between research economists and the political elite in the New Course era between 1953 and 195510 survived the post-1956 reaction in so far as political economy, with its predominantly legitimatory and ideological functions, remained partitioned from the other sectors in the field through the remainder of the state-socialist period. This secured considerable protection both for Marxist-Leninist political economy—which faced the destabilising effects of exposure to the findings of serious empirical research—and for the other sectors, which were professionally oriented and earnestly interested in the pursuit of unbiased empirical research, free from stifling agitprop interference. Our data concerning the reputational control of the field reflects only one, although very important, aspect of this partitioning. Another and much plainer aspect is that, from the early 1960s, the Agitation and Propaganda Department of the Central Committee no longer exercised control over the field, except in the political economy sector. The proposition about the “mechanism paradigm” should not be taken seriously as a statement of a Kuhnian type of intellectual organisation of Hungarian economics, with “reform economics” at its “hard theoretical core”. But it should certainly be taken seriously as a reflection of the sociopolitical structure which emerged and developed from the mid-1950s onwards. Neither the politicians nor the economists saw as necessary or even contemplated the integration of Hungarian economic research with Western mainstream economic thought. In exchange for the professional expertise and socio-economic intelligence necessary for the exercise of power, Hungary's state-socialist political class offered their economists relative autonomy and freedom from interference. The price the economists had to pay was partly to refrain from openly and systematically challenging the beliefs perpetuated by the political economy of socialism, and partly to accept in their research the paramountcy of policy orientation. But this burden they assumed willingly since it made them the only group within Hungary's academic intelligentsia—indeed, the only group in Hungarian society outside the political class—with the privilege of being coopted to the institutions with power over some restricted domains of policymaking. After 1989, especially under the conservative Antall government, this proved less than advantageous.11 Although the benevolence of many critics is open to question, it could greatly benefit the field if the economists' expulsion from contemporary politics went hand in hand with provision of the material, intellectual and institutional conditions for a new approach where a fundamentally scientific orientation is paramount.

Notes: Conclusion From the viewpoint of its Stalinist-era creators, the IKKN/INS could at best be described as a mixed success. Despite heroic efforts, it failed to train the cadres that might have permeated Polish scholarship with Marxism-Leninism. If it was the major channel for transmitting Soviet experience to Polish academia, then Poland's universities would not learn to be Soviet—the Polish historian Jerzy Halbersztadt has made the point that the institute was the only direct conduit of Soviet experience into Polish academic life. It even had a major role in educating some of Poland's most famous critical thinkers, although they, unlike their master Adam Schaff, seem less fond of reminiscing about the institute. Leszek Koŀakowski writes that he does not regard his role in the ideological struggles of the early 1950s as a “source of pride”.90 The legacy of the IKKN/INS has also been a mixed one. It was not only a “foundry of revisionists”. For every future critical thinker of world repute, it graduated several cadres who served the PZPR loyally over decades. Adam Schaff recognises this dual legacy. Looking back on a long and active life, he has called the institute a “pearl in my crown”.91 Its members filled top party and government posts throughout the history of People's Poland. Andrzej Werblan served as Central Committee secretary and a member of the Politburo, Sylwester Zawadzki became minister of justice, Stanisŀaw Wroński was minister of culture, Mieczysŀaw Jagielski was the Politburo member who negotiated the Gdańsk accords, Stanisŀaw Kania succeeded Edward Gierek, and Mieczysŀaw Rakowski acted as General Jaruzelski's Party First Secretary.92 Undoubtedly much of the institute's strange course is to be attributed to the designs of Adam Schaff. Despite his Moscow training, Schaff retained an attachment to the Polish academic milieu which had formed him. He may have believed in Stalinist doctrine, but he also believed that this doctrine would show its superiority in competition with other views—even if the competition was far from a fair one. Of course, Schaff tried to retain ultimate control, and to play, as he now calls himself, the “grey eminence”. Nevertheless, his was a very unstalinist way of propagating Stalinism, and he must be given credit for helping to keep a spirit of intellectual inquiry alive in Poland during the dark years of the early 1950s. Yet Schaff tends to exaggerate his personal role in educating philosophers, dissidents and critical thinkers. This tendency is itself a legacy of the Stalinist period and its concentration of power. Stalinists view the present as their personal creation and therefore reject all criticisms of the past. At the final meeting of the Crooked Circle Club in 1962, Schaff encountered unwonted criticism from, among others, Andrzej Walicki. Schaff shot back at him: “You are ours, you are our creation, a creation of socialism ... we educated you, and we didn't do such a bad job.” But far from being a “creation” of Schaff's, the non-party member Walicki had been denied admission to graduate studies in philosophy. He felt relieved when those in attendance, who knew him better than Schaff did, burst out laughing.93 The point is that the Polish intellectual world maintained its integrity outside the IKKN/INS, and in the end it was the institute which merged into the Polish intelligentsia, rather than the opposite. After 1957 the non-Marxist sociologists and philosophers made their way back to academia, and were joined by many former INS staff members. The basic unity of Polish social science training, and of the Polish intelligentsia, was restored.94 Of course in a larger sense the fate of the IKKN/INS had little to do with the designs of its master. Schaff admits as much, proclaiming that “I did this because I did not know what I was doing!” If he had been asked to start such a project five years later, the answer would have been: “No!”95 The fatal flaw of the Institute for Training Scientific Cadres was cadres: Poland did not have them. By 1956, Schaff and the party leadership, and perhaps Soviet advisers as well, had learned that one could not create an elite party scientific institution almost out of nothing. It would either be party or scientific, because apparatchiki could not become scientists, scientists would not become apparatchiki, and students could not produce teachers. In the Stalinist period, Polish intellectual life had stood in the shadow of the party; yet during the Thaw the relationship was reversed—increasingly the tiny party training institute was engulfed by the shadow of the resurgent Polish universities. Talented young people, even those in the party, made their way into the traditional higher educational establishment. The IKKN/INS did not, therefore, fail because of its own failings, nor succeed because of its own successes. It was a failed part of a failed whole. To succeed, “mild” revolution would have required decades, and Poland's Stalinists had only a few years. To make matters worse—or better, depending on viewpoint—they did not use these years in a conventional Stalinist manner. Under Schaff's guidance and at somewhat erratic Soviet bidding, the institute became an awkward series of half-measures, reminiscent of much of Polish Stalinism. When Poland's communists fell back and regrouped in 1956, the IKKN/INS occupied a lonely position they preferred to abandon.