The social construction of facts and artifacts: or how the sociology of science and the sociology of technology might benefit each other

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Technological change is not objective. Irrespective of the innovation of the material of technology (the “science”), the technology itself is presented in the vehicle of a product, and that product can only be considered in the social context in which it exists. So-called advancements in that product can only be claimed as advanced to some, and any qualifiers at all—better, worse, faster, slower—can only be applied from a unique perspective and through a lens of value. A new approach to transportation afforded by a new science of spring compression may find its way into a bicycle, promising faster or more comfortable biking than before. It also may cost more, putting these new qualities out of reach for some and reinforcing a financial divide of convenience. It may lead to unnecessary waste, and reinforce an “always new” way of thinking about objects. The technology and scientific change exists in a moment of time, creating an everchanging demarcation of a “state of personal mobility.”

Pinch and Bijker argue that these are socially constructed phenomena that are observable and can be modeled, and at least two sociological models exist in which to consider these phenomena.

The Empirical Programme of Relativism model claims that scientific findings are open to multiple interpretations. Social forces exist that limit conflicting interpretations (or controversy), and eventually, controversy is “closed” and a scientific finding is then made somewhat permanent. The Social Construction of Technology model claims that the flexibility of interpretation is extended to the creator, not just the interpreter: that there is flexibility in the design of artifacts and in how they solve problems, not just in the way the scientific knowledge exists in a raw form. Interpretation may then stabilize (rather than close) the meaning of these products, based on when a social group sees that whatever problem was observed has been resolved; or, interpretation may be redirected through a redefinition or reframing of the problem itself.

Pinch and Bijker note that these models are extremely similar, and when a technology or science is considered, it should be considered in the overlap of both perspectives. They view the introduction and change in the bicycle through this integrated lens, where the artifact of the bicycle represents a complicated web of social groups, perceptions of problems, and perceptions of solutions. This is a productive change in how social scientists examine the built world around us.

Pinch and Bijker’s proposal productively reframes technological change as a socially constructed phenomenon, but their framework falls short in two key respects.

First, their argument largely ignores the corporate and political infrastructures that underlies the design and production of new artifacts. Changes in objects like a bicycle do not arise just from scientific exploration or engineering innovation; they also reflect the invisible forces of the market. Most of these artifacts are produced through globalized manufacturing chains, likely in China, where tariffs, taxes, and shifting trade policies affect material costs and product feasibility as much as technological discovery does. Corporate mergers, acquisitions, and seemingly irrational strategies like leveraged buyouts frequently determine which innovations reach consumers and which disappear before ever being built. Political sentiment, manifest in slogans like “Buy American!”, can even regress technology when populist reactions lead to boycotts or reputational damage.

These forces showcase different social groups that are at the core of the technology and science conversation: investors, regulators, advertising agencies, and the public, often engaged through social media. Their definitions of a “problem” or a “solution” constrain which technology survives the market. Phenomena such as the Bud Light boycott, the Ice Bucket Challenge, or Yeti’s zealous brand advocates operate to stabilize or destabilize meaning through affect, ideology, and market behavior.

Pinch and Bijker’s framework also conflates problem-solving, innovation, and product design. This is no particular fault to their scholarly process, as extensive theory in design disciplines did not exist in 1984 when this was written. While Herbert Simon, in 1969, described design as a scientific process of transforming existing situations into preferred ones, a process that is distinct from both natural science and engineering, it wasn’t until 2002 that Victor Margolin’s The Politics of the Artificial (2002) critiqued Simon’s own framing, arguing that all acts of design are inherently political, situated within cultural systems of production and consumption. Nigel Cross identifies designerly ways of knowing as a third mode of inquiry (2006)—parallel to scientific reasoning—while Richard Buchanan’s “Wicked Problems in Design Thinking” (1992) repositions design as a practice that integrates technological, social, and humanistic concerns as a “new liberal art of technological culture.”

These can largely be considered part of a designerly perspective, and by adopting that perspective it becomes clear that an artifact’s meaning is not fixed through social negotiation alone but through a designed orchestration of form, marketing, branding, and more. The Nike logo, its products, stores, and campaigns constitute a technological influence on society more pervasive than any innovation in shoe fabric or manufacturing process. Michael Graves’ signature teapot for Target demonstrates that the designer’s authorship—and the cultural narrative surrounding it—becomes central to the artifact’s social construction, and then to the designers’ subsequent destruction: as Vitta explains, “at the very moment when the sphere of the designer’s intervention is taking shape and is delineated in all of its complexity, his or her role runs the danger of fading into an ambiguous mist in which it may even be reduced to a mere signature on the products… in that case, it is the image of the designer that will be consumed…” (1985).

Pinch and Bijker’s argument is strong, but it omits the disciplinary centrality of Design. Products are designed, and design is neither science nor technology. If science and technology are socially constructed through interpretative flexibility and closure, design deserves equal recognition as a mediator between form, creative reasoning, social meaning, and politics. As Pinch and Bijker’s framework worked to integrate science and technology, this intertwining should be extended to include design as a third lens for viewing and understanding people and the human-built world.