Knowledge, Policy and the Work of Governing

One of the fundamental questions for policy analysis – whether analysis for policy or of policy – is identifying the underlying thinking behind the policy: how is knowledge (and what sorts of knowledge) brought to bear in the policy process? How do we explain differences and similarities – across jurisdictions, or policy fields, or time and place – in the sorts of knowledge used?

This question drives researchers to examine and compare cases in search of significant relationships. The first question, of course, is “what sorts of cases?” The earliest comparative work in this field was done on data from US states, such as Dye (1966; see also Uslaner 1978). With the development of “policy analysis” as an academic field, it came to be assumed that the work of governing should be determined by appropriate expert knowledge, with policy professionals advising the “policy makers”, whose decisions would then be put into practice by functional subordinates. “Policy analysis” emerged as a specialized concern, a technique for the systematic comparison of alternative courses of action, grounded in microeconomics and taught in graduate programmes which could equip people with this knowledge and prepare them for work as “policy analysts” (Howlett 2009). Particularly in North America, “policy analysts” were appointed in government, and the work of policy was further institutionalized by the creation of a professional association with conferences and a journal. The assumption tended to be that comparison was between national policies, and that just as “comparative politics” usually seemed to mean comparing countries with one another, comparative policy analysis would involve cross-national comparisons (e.g. Rimmerman and Araten-Bergman 2010, comparing one policy issue across two countries).

This was soon refined into comparison between “jurisdictions”, as the interest in variations between regional authorities remained (e.g. Bevan 2010; Jones 2014), and researchers identified types of national systems or contested these classifications (e.g. Marmor 2010), and grappled with how to treat the EU (Paré and Montpetit 2009), Researchers found that the use of information was affected by institutional arrangements (Glasby and Lester 2007; Boothe and Harrison 2009). The structuring of government in terms of area of functional expertise (e.g. health, construction, environmental protection), the proliferation of “knowledge workers” in professional and industry bodies, think tanks and community organizations, and the codification of expert practice, even in areas as close to the life-world of ordinary people as child-rearing, meant that there are many sources of “good knowledge” for policy development.

So while the vision of highly trained staff bringing the appropriate knowledge to bear on policy problems is very attractive, and remains current (e.g. Oliphant and Howlett 2010; Weimer 2012), the professional “policy analysts” are only one source of knowledge for policy, and in any case, find that they are likely to be spending their time not “advising the Prince”, but negotiating with other analysts to find a mutually acceptable course of action (Radin 2000; Adams 2015). Even in such a technical field as accounting standards, researchers find that there are significant differences in the nature of knowledge: Dasi et al. (2013) identify four culturally distinct accounting regimes – Anglo, Nordic, Continental and Eastern European, so the question for comparative analysis may be about the norms of order that are adopted in particular cases (see also Grendstad 2001). Geva-May (2002) highlights the impact of cultural bias on policy analysis and the importance of considering “culture” in order to understand negotiation and harmonization. Vogel (1986) points to distinct national “regulatory styles” Fuertes (2008) points out that the adoption of “international standards” is effectively “harmonization” around an Anglo model, and Brown and Dillard (this issue) explore more deeply the sort of questions that accounting raises and the sort of enquiry that it makes possible.

While we can compare modes of knowledge use across national boundaries, this is not the only relevant comparative dimension. Certainly, national jurisdictions may have distinct cultural traditions and institutional forms, but these intersect with other, more common factors. Oliphant and Howlett (2010) suggest that policy analysis varies with national traditions, the experience of policy sectors and organizational contexts, and national distinctiveness is countered by vigorous dissemination of global norms and practices (Pal 2012).

Another dimension of comparison is the nature of the policy problem. Lowi (1972) argued that policy problems could be categorized at distributive, redistributive or regulatory, later adding “constituent” as a fourth category. More recently, there has been more attention to the extent to which there is agreement on the normative base for action, and shared understanding of what action would be an effective response, which enables the construction of the 2 × 2 matrix favoured in American graduate schools. This approach has been further elaborated in the development of “grid-group” analysis, which links this matrix to an argument about political dispositions (see Wildavsky and Swerdlow 2006; Hoppe 2002, 2010; and the special issue of the Journal of Comparative Policy Analysis edited by Hoppe and Geva-May in 2002 – vol. 4 no. 3).

But for the participants, the comparison may be not so much with what knowledge people in the same field in other jurisdictions are using, but what knowledge we are using compared to people in other institutionalized policy fields in our own system. Knowledge tends to be acquired when it becomes relevant, and this tends to be defined by the institutional context, with different specialized agencies having distinct perspectives, as do the central agencies attempting to “coordinate” their activities (see e.g. Hoornbeek 2000; Graham et al. 2001; Richards and Smith 2006). In this issue, Coffey shows how specialist knowledge on environmental governance has to contend with broader discourses of governmental reform, which frame policy questions and the organizational structures through which they are addressed in particular ways, which have a significant impact on how knowledge is mobilized. The comparison is not with what other environmental agencies are doing, but with how the environmental agency relates to the reform agenda of the government.

In any case, the comparison is not only between specialized expertise or central coordination. Parallel to the rhetoric of heightened policy expertise has run a rhetoric of “public participation”, calling for the incorporation of “ordinary knowledge” in the policy process (see Beaumont 2003). But how is this to be accomplished? Van der Arend and Behagel (2011) discuss the tensions between the possession of “ordinary knowledge” and the knowledge-demands of official practice, and the ways in which participants respond to these tensions. Escobar’s study (this issue) of official facilitators of public participation shows how they develop their own field of specialist knowledge (local, political and technical) as they try to foster partnership work across a range of policy areas. Part of their role is to mobilize the “amateur” knowledge of the public, and find ways to bring this credibly to the table where technical knowledge and political representation already have established seats. Accordingly, they must be capable of bringing diverse policy actors together in new deliberative forums and this takes considerable work and skill. Escobar’s paper therefore analyses the political know-how that official public engagers deploy in order to assemble more participatory forms of policy making.

It is important, too, not to lose sight of the fact that knowledge is mobilized in practice, and the question for comparative analysis is what sorts of knowledge are mobilized in what contexts, Weiss (1991) argued that the question here was whether policy participants are looking for data, evidence or arguments; whether knowledge is useful depends on the use that participants have for it. And how usable knowledge is may be very context-specific. Tenbensel (2006) draws on Aristotle’s (and Flyvbjerg’s) distinction between episteme (knowledge from study), techne (knowledge from practice) and phronesis (the knowledge of judgement), arguing that each can be relevant in particular contexts, and policy workers have to be able to “read” the context and deploy the appropriate form of knowledge in order to get the necessary support, and illustrates this conclusion with two contrasting empirical cases. In Maybin’s study of “knowledge practices” in a health department, policy workers are not experts in the policy field, or even experts in the methodology of comparison (“policy analysis”): they are experts on complex organizational processes, and in bringing the right sort of knowledge to bear in order to secure an outcome: “know how” is more important to them than “know that”.

Here, participation and audience can be critical; Heclo and Wildavsky (1974) pointed to the important of intimacy and trust in maintaining expenditure control; Richardson and Jordan (1979) showed the way that contending but mutually dependent participants could reach quiet agreement in “policy communities”. Conversely, Nekola and Moravek (this issue) show that experts from different fields working at the boundary between science and practical policy making have to relate their specialized knowledge about psychoactive substances to both the formal procedures of mobilizing state authority and to public perceptions about the nature of the problem. In their search for an appropriate response to urgent policy issue, the evidence is limited, relativized and does not speak for itself. It has to be brought to bear, and to contend with competing forms of knowledge mobilized by other participants.

The focus shifted, therefore, from comparisons of knowledge use in national or subnational agencies to the mobilization of knowledge as part of policy practice, and the ways in which participants draw upon competing knowledge claims. Relationships are important in determining the credibility of knowledge (Clavier 2010), and expert knowledge might be drawn on in some contexts, peer opinion in others (May and Winter 2009; Ritter 2009). Institutional context is likely to determine which truth claims are accepted and which rejected (Kook 2003; 6 et al. 2007).

What these studies show is the dynamic and interactive nature of policy. It is not crafted off-site and brought in to be “implemented”, but has to be “put together” in specific contexts. “Policy knowledge” is generated in use; it does not precede the action, but is part of it. Different sorts of knowledge may be mobilized, reflecting the nature of participation in the issue, and the relationship between knowledge and participation can cut both ways: those who establish their right to participate bring with them their own expertise and this shapes the sort of knowledge that is recognized; but conversely, the way in which the policy question is framed, and therefore what knowledge is appropriate, indicates who has this knowledge, and therefore should be participating. The comparative dimension lies in the way that participants recognize and select relevant forms of knowledge. This symposium is a contribution to our growing understanding of the way that they do this.