Feminist opposition to traditional policy analysis is counterproductive

(Haithe, As If Gender Mattered: Feminism and Change in Higher Education The Journal of Higher Education,Vol. 74, No. 3 pp. 321-336 )

As Stanley Fish (1989) has observed: "When members of an institution debate, it may seem that they are arguing about fundamental principles, but it is more often the case that the truly fundamental principle is the one that makes possible the terms of the disagreement and is therefore not in dispute at all" (p. 163). Uncovering the common ground of our principled disagreements may be especially difficult in academia. We work, more often than not, by establishing our identity against the backdrop of the points of view we find disagreeable. Consider, for example, a recent book edited by Catherine Marshall (1997), Feminist Critical Policy Analysis: A Perspective from PostSecondary Education. In the introductory chapter she and her co-author, Estela Mara Bensimon, situate their work by telling us who they are not. "The premise of this book," as they put it, "is that the theories and methods of conventional policy analysis are biased and therefore incapable of understandingt he cases of the Heilbrun's,C onley's, and Dalton's and the other thousands of women professors, students and staff as resulting from structures, norms, practices, values and culture that are gendered" (p. 2). The three women referenced in this sentence stand as icons for thousands of women who presumably share their experiences of sexism in higher education, and together this group will oppose a "biased" villain called conventional policy analysis. Feminist critical analysts, who will lead this opposition, "view conventional policy studies methods as the products of disciplinary traditions that are androcentric and therefore reject them as the master's tools" (italics in original, p. 6). The lines of dispute in this debate are firmly drawn between a conventional world where "the maintenance of this patriarchal ideology is made possible by coalitions of men in positions of power" (p. 11), and a presumably unbiased, unconventional and desirable world defined by a woman-centered policy analysis. Bensimon and Marshall, in short, posit an academic world that is neatly and fundamentally divided between men and women. As I will show, there are a number of fundamental principles that feminist critic's share with the villains they reject. By pointing to these similarities, however, I am not accusing feminists of wrongful deeds. My goal, instead, is to situate the work of academic feminism and, in particular, to arrive at a fuller understanding of the principles that give rise to feminist criticism in higher education policy. Adopting what Frank Fischer and John Forester (1993) have called the argumentative turn in policy analysis, I am seeking to understand the practical processes of argumentation in feminist policy analysis. In particular, I am interested in "what policy analysts and planners do, how language and modes of representation both enable and constrain their work, how their practical rhetoric depicts and selects, describes and characterizes, includes and excludes, and more" (p. 2). I feel compelled to point out that the work of academic feminists, like that of their non-feminist counterparts, is bound by conventions, norms, and rules that govern academia not because I'm hostile to feminist criticism, but because I have learned so much from it. Nonetheless, as the unfolding of this essay will reveal, I am more inclined to think that feminists cannot reject the master's tools, and that it is a good thing too. As I will conclude, if the goal is to change the direction of higher education policy, than increasing one's sensitivity to the nuances of the master's tools is the only way to go. (321-2)