A Pragmatist in Namur — Eléonore Robinson

A sociologist and a philosopher. Tell us briefly about yourself and your work.

My name is Eleonore Robinson. I am a teaching assistant and PhD candidate in sociology at the University of Namur, Belgium. I’m interested in various forms of discrimination, how they come about and how they are dealt with at different stages of the life course. My doctoral research focuses on careers in the IT sector. Information technologies have taken a prominent place in our lives over the past decades (says the human attempting intelligence while writing these words …). While their effects on everyday life and working conditions are increasingly studied, the sociological study of the workers that conceive, develop, test and deploy them remains relatively limited. Yet, this workforce is characterised by a high degree of homogeneity, being predominantly male and relatively young (according to the Labour Force Survey conducted by Eurostat, Information and Communication is the activity sector with the lowest share of workers aged 50 and above in 2024). From a sociological perspective, I look into how workers who deviate from this norm experience IT careers and whether, and how, they encounter discrimination based on their non-conforming attributes (gender and age). On a more personal and philosophical level, I have also been increasingly interested in reflections on how this homogeneity among IT workers may influence the development of these technologies that are now an integral part of our daily lives.

What is your understanding of "humour" proper; or, at least, of those features thereof to which you have paid the keenest attention? And how does your work merge with, or is influenced by, your quotidian encounters with a potentially ubiquitous and ambiguous phenomenon such as humour? 

My first reflections on humour emerged through my research on gender discrimination. In that context, humour appeared to me in the form that is perhaps closest to the notion of power: teasing, mocking, and the like. Jokes appeared a socially accepted, and often structural, means of reinforcing relations of domination. Indeed, although the women working in IT whom I interviewed generally claimed to have experienced little discrimination in their professional lives, they invariably referred to the "jokes" made about their gender. At the time, I primarily interpreted these interactions as manifestations of what has been described as benevolent sexism, serving to reproduce and maintain the existing gender order – on the notion of benevolent sexism, I recommend to see the work of Peter Glick and Susan Fiske, particularly their Ambivalent Sexism Theory (Glick & Fiske, 1996).

My reading of and growing engagement with Humour and Cruelty, together with exchanges with students and direct discussions with Giorgio Baruchello, gradually led me to consider humour from a different perspective. Beyond its role in sustaining social hierarchies, humour also emerged as a way of dealing with ambiguity. From what is perhaps a more pragmatist, and even interactionist, perspective, humour can be understood as a register that people turn to when confronted with situations that are somehow abnormal, uncertain, or difficult to interpret. In my doctoral research, I explore the tensions between structuralist and pragmatist approaches, attempting to articulate perspectives that are often presented as theoretical opposites. Humour provides a particularly interesting lens through which to examine these tensions, as it can simultaneously reproduce social structures and help individuals navigate the uncertainties of everyday interactions.

Moving from humour as an object to humour as a method, I am always eager to reflect on humour as a way of doing research and on its place within academic practice and writing. I have been particularly impressed by some authors’ ability to punctuate academic discourse with moments of humour, a quality that is especially evident in Griorgio Baruchello’s work and academic ethos. Also, I would be interested in thinking about what humour can make possible in research settings: What does it enable people to say? What kinds of reactions can it provoke, particularly in interviews and focus groups? In that sense, as Giorgio Baruchello strongly emphasizes, humour is not simply something to be analysed; it is also a methodological and communicative resource that can reveal aspects of social life that might otherwise remain unspoken.

Thinkers as different as Nietzsche, Judith Shklar, and Derrida have argued that cruelty is baffling because, even if we want to eliminate it from human life, it always finds a way to re-emerge therein, almost as if it were part and parcel of the same human life. Has cruelty ever played a significant role in your work's purview, and/or your understanding of social and economic phenomena? 

Cruelty is not a concept I set out to study directly. Yet, through my research on discrimination, I have repeatedly encountered what could be described as its ordinary forms. In the interviews I made and interactions I referred to earlier, what struck me was not the spectacular nature of experiences of cruelty but their banality. This has led me to think about cruelty less as an exceptional act and more as a social phenomenon that can emerge through ordinary interactions, sometimes independently of harmful intentions.

Such a perspective raises important questions about responsibility, systemic discrimination, and the relationship between individual action and social structures. It also resonates with my interest in the tension between structuralist and pragmatist approaches: to what extent is cruelty the product of individual choices, and to what extent is it embedded in routines, norms, and institutions? While I am still exploring these questions, my research has convinced me that some of the most enduring forms of cruelty may be those that are neither spectacular nor fully conscious, but rather woven into the fabric of everyday social life.

Are there two or three works that, when it comes to addressing any of the themes fuelling my own philosophical and literary production, you would describe as true "classics" and, therefore, advise the reader of this blog to familiarise themselves with — the way, say, Plato's Republic or Machiavelli's Prince can be said to be "classics" in politics? And are there any works from the past ten years that you would equally recommend? 

Here I feel compelled to mention Polanyi’s The Great Transformation (1944), which I had the opportunity to study and discuss as part of the final assignment for the Modern Studies Seminar in Economic History that Giorgio Baruchello taught some years ago in Iceland and that I had the good fortune of attending. Polanyi’s work strikes me an indispensable starting point for any critical, and perhaps somewhat cynical, assessment of contemporary Western societies. On a more optimistic note, I have recently enjoyed reading sociologists venturing into writings that seek to engage with broader audiences through more accessible forms of writing, such as Dominique Méda’s recent plea for a more desirable society (Une société desirable, 2021).