Concepts of Social Stratification: European and American Models

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Concepts of Social Stratification European and American Models

Andreas Hess

Concepts of Social Stratification

Also by Andreas Hess AMERICAN SOCIAL AND POLITICAL THOUGHT – A CONCISE INTRODUCTION DIE POLITISCHE SOZIOLOGIE C. WRIGHT MILLS’

Concepts of Social Stratification European and American Models Andreas Hess Lecturer in Sociology University of Wales, Bangor

© Andreas Hess 2001 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1P 0LP. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The author has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2001 by PALGRAVE Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS and 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. 10010 Companies and representatives throughout the world PALGRAVE is the new global academic imprint of St. Martin’s Press LLC Scholarly and Reference Division and Palgrave Publishers Ltd (formerly Macmillan Press Ltd). ISBN 0–333–91810–X This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Hess, Andreas. Concepts of social stratification : European and American models / Andreas Hess. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–333–91810–X 1. Social stratification. 2. Social stratification—United States. I. Title. HM821 .H47 2001 305.5’12—dc21 2001021716 10 10

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Printed and bound in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham, Wiltshire

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Contents 1

Introduction: Why Study the Semantics of Social Stratification?

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Karl Marx’s Critique of Political Economy

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Max Weber: Political Economy as Sociology

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Emile Durkheim, Georg Simmel and Ferdinand Tönnies: Social Differentiation and Functionalist Sociology

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Alexis de Tocqueville’s Political Sociology

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In Dispraise of Economics: Thorstein Veblen

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The City and Human Ecology: the Urban Sociology of the Chicago School (Robert Park and William Burgess)

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The Origins of Cultural and Community Studies: Robert and Helen Lynd’s Anatomy of Middletown

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The Political Sociology of C. Wright Mills: an Anatomy of the American Power Structure

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10 Dissecting the ‘Fine Distinctions’ in America’s System of Social Stratification: Richard Sennett and Jonathan Cobb

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11 Maintaining the Equilibrium of Freedom and Order: Talcott Parsons’ Resuscitation of Functionalism

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12 From ‘Black Nation’ and ‘Black Bourgeoisie’ to ‘Urban Underclass’ – the Sociology of African American Communities: W. E. B. Du Bois, Franklin E. Frazier and William J. Wilson

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13 Back to the Future: Mike Davis and Erik Olin Wright’s Marxist Interpretations of Class Struggle in the US

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14 Tocqueville Revisited: American Exceptionalism in the Political Sociology of Seymour Martin Lipset

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15 Epilogue: The Semantics of Social Stratification

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Bibliography

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Index

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1 Introduction: Why Study the Semantics of Social Stratification?

In his groundbreaking study Das Jahrhundert Verstehen (Understanding the Century) the historian Dan Diner has pointed out that ‘1989’, the year the Berlin Wall came down, must be seen as an event that marked the end of a conflict between a set of competing values – those associated with ‘freedom’ against those associated with ‘equality’. The truly global conflict that started with the Russian Revolution in 1917 – the modern symbol of the struggle for equality – came to an end with the ‘tremendeous events of 1989’ (Wolf Lepenies), the contemporary symbol associated with western freedom – a freedom which had its origins in the ‘Atlantic Revolution’ (Diner, 1999: 10). The end of the Cold War must thus not only be seen as the the closing chapter of the major battle of ideas that has marked the 20th century, but also as the beginning of a new epoch, an epoch in which freedom itself has become the major force of production (1999: 78). Locke’s observation that in the beginning all the world was America just needed a stealthy twist in history to become true. However, it would be wrong to assume that the late victory of the ‘Atlantic Revolution’ and the values that are usually associated with it mean the end of societal conflict in general and/or the end of stratified societies and inequality in particular. Nothing could be further from the truth. What has changed, however, is the perception of the complex relationship in which inequality now co-exists with freedom and social order. If this is an appropriate description, then it would indeed be helpful to take a fresh look back from this newly gained observation point in order to find out exactly how the West dealt with 1

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inequality – and how it managed to preserve freedom and order at the same time. Since it would be an almost impossible task to write the history of social inequality in the West, we necessarily have to be selective and find other ways and methods to achieve our aim. Short of a ‘grand narrative’, what could be better than studying some paradigmatic ways in which inequality in the West has been observed and studied by social scientists? It is my hypothesis that this can best be achieved by looking at American society, a society that is truly paradigmatic in the sense that it stands for the Western values of the ‘Atlantic Revolution’, freedom and order, but that at the same time had to manage with extreme forms of social inequality. In order to proceed along these lines of reasoning, we will have to be even more selective. As a way of proceeding I suggest investigating the complex relationship between inequality, freedom and order and the way in which it has been perceived and interpreted over time, by looking at the shifting semantics that have been used to describe inequality. It is therefore necessary to explain why a conceptual approach is relevant in this instance, and in order to do so, it is useful to refer to two American sociologists who have thought about the problems associated with conceptual approaches, namely, C. Wright Mills and Jeffrey C. Alexander. In his critique of ‘grand theory’ – i.e. theories that did not seem to be related to empirical evidence – and ‘abstracted empiricism’ – such as unstructured atheoretical empirical research – C. Wright Mills refers back to classic sociology in order to stress that the classics received their status due to the fact that they did not surrender to the false opposition of theory versus empirical research. Mills argues further that the classics favoured concepts which allowed one to focus on specific societal problems whilst at the same time maintain a sense of society as a whole. Thus, classic sociology never followed the extremes of ‘grand theory’ or ‘abstracted empiricism’. Rather, their use of concepts such as class, status, elite, anomie, etc. introduced a mediating effect: general theory was informed by empirical research while general theory helped to structure and systematise empirical data. In the words of C. Wright Mills: Classic social science … neither ‘builds up’ from microscopic study nor ‘deduces down’ from conceptual elaboration. Its practitioners

Introduction 3

try to develop and to deduce concomitantly, in the same process of study, and to do this by means of adequate formulation and reformulation of problems and of their adequate solutions. To practice such a policy … is to take up substantive problems in terms appropriate to them; and then, no matter how high the flight of theory, no matter how painstaking the crawl among detail, in the end of each completed act of study, to state the solution in the macroscopic terms of the problem. The classic focus, in short, is on substantive problems. The character of these problems limits and suggests the methods and the conceptions that are used and how they are used. Controversy over different views of ‘methodology’ and ‘theory’ is properly carried on in close and continuous relation with substantive problems. (Mills, 1959: 128) Mills’ explanation of classic sociology stresses the flexibility of concepts, reflecting the tense relationship between theory and empirical research. Mills tried to put such knowledge to use while writing his own trilogy on power in American society. Yet it must be noted that Mills’ understanding of sociology was also deeply influenced by American Pragmatism. The problem-solving aspects played a central role in Mills’ notion of the discipline. Such a view is not altogether wrong but it might not be sufficient to understand the continuum of modern social scientific processes – particularly not when seen in the light of our question, namely how inequality can co-exist with freedom and order. In his four-volume work entitled Theoretical Logic in Sociology and in his lectures published as Sociological Theory Since World War II, the American sociologist Jeffrey C. Alexander has attempted to describe the interrelation of the social scientific process in a more sophisticated manner. (Alexander, 1982, 1987). Alexander’s diagram shows a continuum (see Figure 1.1). One end of the continuous line symbolises factual ‘empirical environment’, characterised by specificity. The other end of the line shows the other extreme, ‘metaphysical environment’, whose central feature is generality. The stages in-between those two extremes tend to be oriented to either one of the extremes. ‘Methodological considerations’ for example is closer to ‘empirical environment’, while ‘classifications’, ‘definitions’, ‘concepts’ and ‘models’ veer more

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Metaphysical environment Theories

Empirical environment

Observations

Correlations

Methodological assumptions

Complex and simple propositions

Laws

Classifications

Definitions

Concepts

General presuppositions Ideological orientations Models

.. . . . . . . . . .

Facts

Figure 1.1 The scientific continuum and its components Source: Alexander 1987: 7. Reprinted with permission of Columbia University Press.

towards ‘metaphysical environment’. For Alexander’s diagram it is necessary to understand sociology as an empirically informed social science. Principal falsification plays a decisive role in it: sociological theory must be open to examination, new empirical evidence and finally, revision. Yet, according to Alexander, sociological theory is also based on ideological and metaphysical presuppositions which are not subject to examination. The problem that then arises is, whether a theorist is aware and self-critical enough to state his metaphysical or ideological assumptions openly. If Alexander’s arguments concerning his diagram are correct (and I assume this to be the case), then the question arises of how changes in the empirical environment will be internally represented within that continuum. Also, if it is correct to characterise sociology as a social science principally open to and informed by empirical evidence, but at the same time influenced by ideological and metaphysical presuppositions, then it can be assumed that the tension between theory and the empirical environment is most likely to be represented in the midfield of the continuum that leans slightly to the theoretical side, to definitions, concepts, and models. Why is this the case? To use an explanation inspired by Marx: in being part of the more sluggish superstructure, general theories respond more slowly to change. The tension is rather diverted or ‘delegated’ to the subordinate level, particularly to concepts. Old, proven, and tested

Introduction 5

concepts will be maintained but will be filled with new meanings to adapt to change; or, a second alternative and strategy could consist of introducing entirely new concepts – sometimes to replace the old ones, but occasionally also to help to refine, and on rare occasions, even used alongside the older concepts. However, even though the emphasis has to be on concepts, it would still be helpful to learn about the theoretical presuppositions that led social scientists to use particular concepts and not others. Labelling approaches, both on the presuppositional and conceptual level, and putting them into boxes has become something of an obsession in the modern social sciences. Enormous lengths have been gone to in making approaches and paradigms used to describe inequality watertight and contradiction-free (Page, 1940; Gordon, 1958; Grimes, 1991; Gilbert and Kahl, 1993). Little has been gained by such efforts. On some occasions it has even prevented social scientists from seeing the wood for the trees. In contrast to such labelling approaches the most important thing about competing paradigms is that they must be understood as continuously changing self-descriptions of complex societies – not as eternal truths (Berger, 1989: 48). The historical pluralism of competing paradigms allows us to look at the same phenomenon from various standpoints. They should be interpreted as communicating with each other. Competing and communicating paradigms can not only shed light on changing conditions and changing historical circumstances, but also allow for insights into each competing paradigm’s ‘black box’. Ideally speaking, a stable use of concepts could thus hint towards persisting structural problems while a change or further conceptual differentition could indicate social change, or important shifts therein. To analyse American society and its social structure along the lines of semantical changes or replacements means understanding where and how these concepts originated. In order to gain clarity, each of the following chapters will start with a brief overview in which the presuppositional assumptions, the models and paradigms, the concepts and the empirical environments of the individual approaches are identified. This schematisation must be understood as a tool for orientation – not as a labelling approach. Thus not all steps of Alexander’s continuum will be applied as only the major distinctions will be listed and represented. For further guidance, and for readers who might not have an intimate knowledge of the history

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of the social sciences, each new approach will also be introduced by a short paragraph in which each thinker and their work will be summarised. Concerning the progression of the argument, we will start with the classics in order to find out how their analysis helped to understand inequality in America, before we proceed to the more contemporary approaches. A critical reading of The Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right: Introduction (1844), A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy (1859), Das Kapital I (1867), and other writings will help to reconstruct Marx’s critique of political economy and his use of concepts such as class, class struggle, and class consciousness. The concepts which Max Weber introduced to sociology stem largely from his most famous studies The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism (1920) and Economy and Society (1922). It is in these books that Weber developed the idea of the (western) rationalisation process, focusing especially on problems of bureaucracy, charisma, power, class, status, and parties. Emile Durkheim’s idea of functional analysis can be most easily identified in his Rules of Sociological Method (1901) and The Division of Labour in Society (1902). It is here that Durkheim proposed distinguishing between primitive and modern societies, mechanical and organic solidarity, and traditional and modern morality. Two other outstanding sociologists, Georg Simmel and Ferdinand Tönnies, contributed to the formation of concepts in sociology. Simmel introduced the idea of conflict and co-operation in social relationships in his Sociology (1908), Tönnies drew the line between community and association/society (in Community and Association, 1935). Alexis de Tocqueville is not usually considered to be a sociological classic; yet to discuss the classics in order to understand America’s system of social stratification without referring to his Democracy in America (1838) would leave out the very peculiar and very unique aspects of American society. It was his analysis, which for the first time hinted towards the exceptionalist character of American democracy. After studying the classics and their concepts the next step would then be to look at American social science in order to examine how the classical concepts were either used, replaced, refined, or transformed. A further ‘screening’ of sociologists would be necessary at

Introduction 7

this stage: First, we are looking for sociologists who received a classic education – meaning they were trained in sociological theory but at the same time, they must have tried to apply the concepts which stemmed from Europe to the American environment through studying larger or smaller entities of American society. Secondly, a further selection must be made in terms of the historical dimensions of their writing. In the ideal sense every sociologist would cover at least a decade of the development of social stratification in American society. Short of a complete history of social inequality of the United States and its perception, such an approach would still give the observer a sense of continuity. It would also allow one to make cross-references to individual contributors and how they themselves referred to the classics (sometimes openly, at other times just through proximity, and occasionally just through coincidence). Thirdly, the sociologists in question would also have made major contributions to the analysis of American society in terms of identifying American peculiarities and normalities, or in other words they must have studied the genuine interrelatedness of freedom and order in the case of America. The following ‘core’ of social scientists and their work fulfils the requirements outlined above. They are: Thorstein Veblen’s Theory of the Leisure Class (1899), The Instinct of Workmanship and the State of the Industrial Arts (1914), Absentee Ownership and Business Enterprise in Recent Times – the Case of America (1923), W.E.B. Du Bois’ The Philadelphia Negro (1899) and other sociological writings, Robert E. Park et al.’s The City (1925), Robert and Helen Lynd’s Middletown (1929) and Middletown in Transition (1937), C. Wright Mills’ White Collar (1951) and The Power Elite (1956), E. Franklin Frazier’s Black Bourgeoisie (1957), Talcott Parsons’ The System of Modern Societies and other related studies (1971), Richard Sennett’s and Jonathan Cobb’s The Hidden Injuries of Class (1972), William Julius Wilson’s The Declining Significance of Race (1980) and The Truly Disadvantaged (1987), Mike Davis’ Prisoners of the American Dream (1986) and City of Quartz (1990), Erik Olin Wright’s Interrogating Inequality (1994) and Class Counts (1997), and Seymour Martin Lipset’s The First New Nation (1963), and American Exceptionalism (1996). Again, as with the classics, the sociological concepts used by these social scientists need to be properly identified and situated within

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Jeffrey C. Alexander’s science continuum. It is expected that the continuity of using classical concepts together with the various shifts in meaning signifies the dialectic of both ‘continuity’ and ‘departure/difference’ in and of American society. ‘Continuity’ would refer to the normality and compatibility of American society with other western societies, while the notion of concepts marked by ‘departure/difference’ would refer to the unique dimensions of American society, dimensions that cannot be found anywhere else in the West. The following chapters can be read in two ways. First, the focus could be on particular periods; this way each chapter appears almost as an individual ‘snapshot’, a diachronic or lateral introspection of specific periods in American history and the way inequality in these particular periods in time have been studied and were understood by social scientists. A second reading or understanding looks more at the entire ‘story’ that unfolds. Short of a comprehensive history of social inequality, it could still provide a sense of chronological order in that it looks at various stages and processes of an entire historical epoch, that of the origins and the further course of the development of American capitalism and the inequality it created. Without forgetting the importance of the diachronical ‘individual steps’, the final discussion refers clearly more to the second reading. It will consist of a broader and more general discussion of the tendencies and patterns observed. Furthermore, it will evaluate the coexistence of uncivil dimensions of class in the context about assumptions of Western civil society in general. It is only in this final discussion that we will come back to the observation of ‘1989’ as marking the beginning of a new epoch. It is this new epoch that invites us to re-think the more general dimensions of bifurcating discourses and its function within western civil society. I would like to take this opportunity to thank the following people for their advice and help: Andrei S. Markovits (Ann Arbor) who, over many years, has been of great help and support; it is to him that I dedicate this book; Dirk Kaesler (Marburg) for renewing my confidence in the sociological profession; Jeffrey C. Alexander (Yale) who provided me with the opportunity to read his latest unpublished manuscript and (in my opinion) magnum opus Possibilities for Justice – Civil Society and Its Contradictions and also permitted me to use his deliberations for advancing my own argument; William

Introduction 9

Outhwaite (Sussex) and Karl-Heinz Klein-Rusteberg (Essen) both of whom were prepared to listen and offer an appropriate response even when a rather confused argument was put to them; inevitably I would come away with a clearer view of what I was doing. Finally, I would like to thank Diana J. Holubowicz for her editorial work and constant support.

2 Karl Marx’s Critique of Political Economy

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: historical materialism; German philosophy (G.F.W. Hegel, Ludwig Feuerbach), political economy (Adam Smith, David Ricardo, Jean-Baptiste Say, John Stuart Mill), Charles Darwin. Model/paradigm(s): capitalism (200 years). Concepts: labour power, exploitation, class struggle, classes, class as a social relationship, class consciousness, forces of production, relations of production. Empirical environment(s): Germany, England, France, Russia, USA.

Karl Marx (1818–83) was not a sociologist. Yet modern contemporary sociology would not be the same and certainly at a loss if the contributions of Karl Marx were not to be taken into account. Marx himself did not call his approach ‘sociology’ but rather critique of political economy (Marx, 1983: 158–61). ‘Critique of Political Economy’ can have a double meaning. It could mean that one is critical of political economy; thus distancing oneself from the field of criticism, i.e. political economy. Critique of Political Economy could also mean the criticism of society from the standpoint of political economy. Traits of both perspectives can be found in Marx’s work. If one reads Marx, the first impression is that he writes primarily about the economic sphere; production, labour, and economic exploitation are the words that appear time and time again – and after all: is not Marx’s most famous work called Das Kapital? Yet despite the fact that Marx, for the most part, uses this ‘economic’ language, it does not automatically follow that Marx’s thought is purely 10

Karl Marx’s Critique of Political Economy 11

economic or economistic. In Marx’s work we can also find traces that clearly separate him from political economy. In Das Kapital for example, the author points out that in the capitalist economy the commodity is basically the concrete cell form of modern society (1983: 433) and in his Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy he writes that ‘the anatomy of civil society is to be sought in political economy’ (1983: 159). The fact that Marx insisted on these points, would explain his obsession with economical matters, yet simultaneously, Marx appears to distance himself from political economy by referring to normative aspects outside the field of political economy. The clearest indication that Marx was not a political economist can be found in his Critique of The Gotha Programme where he dissects the German social democrats’ statement that ‘labour is the source of all value’ and condemns the social democrats for following the paths of political economy (1983: 533–55). For Marx, labour power is the source of all wealth – which means that he is critical, if not to say opposed to the approach of political economy; and – additionally – that he is obviously promoting his own unique approach to criticise capitalist society. Being both critical of the political economy-approach and a user of the language of political economy, obviously means that there is a deep ambiguity in Marx. In that which follows we shall look at some of the concepts derived from Marx’s general approach. But before we deal with Marx’s writing on this more concrete level, it should be stressed that the ambiguity to be found in Marx’s understanding of the critique of political economy also creates tensions within the concepts of that very critique. Additionally, Marx’s writing can be seen developing from philosophy and abstract thinking to the more concrete level of the analysis of the production in capitalist society. The early Economico-Philosophical Manuscripts, for example, are more abstract, while Das Kapital is certainly more concrete (1983: 125–52, 432–503). It also has to be stressed here, that the following analysis proceeds in chronological order. Thus it aims at charting the process of Marx’s development. This way, it also becomes clearer that Marx reacted to the historical events of his time, and thus his thought is necessarily a product and a result of these times. Marx was born during the aftermath of the French Revolution. Having studied law in Berlin and after having finally received his doctorate, Marx became an editor for the Neue Rheinische Zeitung.

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He experienced serious censorship in Prussia and as a result moved to France where he contributed to the Deutsch-Französische Jahrbücher – a collaborative work he edited together with Arnold Ruge (1983: 92–129). It was in the Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right: Introduction – one of the major contributions to these yearbooks – that he first elaborated on the concept of class in a more thorough fashion than can be seen in his then unpublished manuscript (1983: 115–29). In his critique we can therefore find an enthusiastic reception of the political results of the French Revolution; furthermore we can observe an interest in the industrial development in England; and last but not least, Marx continually attempted to come to terms with philosophy, in particular the German idealist philosopher Hegel. Marx begins his critique by stressing the backwardness of German industrial development and its uneven development which was also reflected in its undemocratic politics. ‘Germany begins where France and England are about to end’, writes Marx (1983: 119). He saw the development of German philosophy almost as a substitute or compensation for this German backwardness and stressed that ‘In Politics the Germans have thought what other people have done’ (1983: 119; emphasis in the original). For Marx, German philosophy was so preoccupied with the life of the mind, so lost in abstraction and speculation that it was not able to properly address the problems of its social reality. He realised that a change of that reality was only possible through praxis. Yet Marx also knew that, at times, theory may serve as a practical force. Marx was critical of German idealist philosophy; yet in his Copernican attempt to revolutionise philosophy he never lost sight of the values of the tradition of enlightenment. Marx starts off his analysis of class by referring directly to these moral values. There is no contradiction in Marx referring first to religion for ‘teaching that man is the highest being for man’ and to deduce later for his own purposes that it is ‘the categorical imperative to overthrow all those conditions in which man is debased, enslaved, abandoned, contemptible being …’ (1983: 119). Still, for Marx, philosophy achieves greater ends. Theory can only become a material force when it serves the radical purpose – not for the purpose of the bourgeoisie which would use philosophy solely for its own particular interests – but


rather for that of the proletariat, the only class which – according to Marx – has an interest in universal emancipation. Marx’s idea of the universal class in the German context is based on a presupposition of what is likely to happen in Germany through interpreting the French Revolution and its consequences. For Marx the French Revolution merely was a political revolution. He assumes that a part of civil society, a specific class – the bourgeoisie – emancipates itself, and that it did so because of the peculiar circumstanced in France at the time, i.e. the bourgeoisie could become the mouthpiece of the people due to the fact that they questioned a situation that had become a burden for all. Thus, Marx is correct in saying that in specific circumstances it is possible for a particular group with a particular interest to be the voice of the people at large. In other words: in the French instance ‘the partial emancipation is the basis for universal emancipation’ (1983: 122). As a result of its backwardness Germany was not in the same position. Yet this backward position could itself be turned into an advantage: through observing France, Germany could go beyond the emancipation which would only benefit a particular class. Marx puts all his hopes in one new class – the proletariat – which through awareness of its desperate social situation, could become the voice of universal emancipation. In contrast to France then, the struggle would be different: ‘In Germany universal emancipation is the conditio sine qua non of any partial emancipation’ (1983: 122). Marx was quite aware of the fact that this universal emancipation was based on a presumption, namely that the industrial development that could be observed in England would also take place in Germany. It was also presumed that the working class would represent the overall majority of the population in the near future. To summarise then: in the Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right, Marx attempts to ‘translate’ Hegel’s account of the master-slave relationship into the new narrative of class conflict. Marx also makes reference to Hegel in that he sees only two forces contributing modern civil society: bourgeoisie and proletariat – the bourgeoisie representing only a particularistic interest and consciousness, the proletariat being the new Messiah of universal emancipation. In the brief preface to his Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy Marx refers directly to his early attempt to reconcile Hegel’s

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understanding of ‘civil society’ (1983: 158–61). Marx felt it necessary to go a step beyond this. He contends that Hegel’s concept of civil society can only be explained with reference to the critique of political economy. Marx’s unique approach to the critique of political economy is a model that takes into account conflict and change – both leading to historical progress. Central to this model are the material forces of production (1983: 159ff). Each step of the historical development of these forces of production works in parallel with the relations of production – the sum of these relations Marx calls ‘the economic structure of society’. On top of this ‘basis’, or ‘real foundation’ comes the so-called ‘superstructure’: the legal and political forms representing the social consciousness of the time. It would be misleading to label this model as static. In fact, quite the opposite is true: Marx’s model incorporates conflict and change, it is in other words dynamic. At a certain point, the development of the relations of production necessarily fall behind the development of the forces of production. One must imagine this as a kind of widening gap: while the forces of production are continuously changing, the same cannot be said for the less dynamic relations of production. In the words of Marx, they become ‘fetters’ for the material forces. This contradiction, this widening gap, leads to social upheaval. With the French Revolution, according to Marx, society has reached a new quality in terms of a last conflict. For him the struggle of the bourgeoisie represents ‘the last antagonistic form of the social process of production’ (1983: 161). The short format of the preface to the Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy can lead to misunderstandings. In particular the use of the language of economics makes it difficult not to regard Marx as a political economist. Yet, the way in which he defines and uses the word ‘production’ for example, is quite distinct from the usual interpretation of the word. When Marx talks about the social production of men, he is clearly referring to a broader understanding of production, one which is not limited solely to economic production. In his German Ideology Marx attempts to define more precisely what he means by ‘material production’ (1983: 162–95). From man’s early stage man distinguishes himself from animal by producing the means of existence. In modern times it is the division of labour which shows how far material production has developed, including a very sophisticated system of different methods employed in agriculture, industry


and commerce. Additionally, new forms of ownership correspond to this division of labour in society. But only at a very late stage in the societal development can a qualitative change of different forms of ownership be observed; Marx cites the difference between commerce and industry as one example. The development of consciousness also stands in close relationship with the development and change of the material conditions. Marx points out that one must understand ideological expression as a reflection of the material conditions of life. Marx uses the allegory of the camera obscura to support his argument. He writes: ‘If in all ideology men and their circumstances appear upside down as in a camera obscura, this phenomenon arises just as much from their historical life-process as the inversion of objects on the retina does from their physical life-process’ (1983: 169). Marx wanted to stress that one must not take ideological forms of expression of man at face value. Philosophy, law and literature should be interpreted as reflecting the social world, the life-process, the material being. The way Marx deciphers Hegel illustrates his view on ideology: in dissecting his philosophy of right for example, Marx discovers the material conditions of the time. The Manifesto of the Communist Party can be seen as a first attempt to combine the various aspects that Marx discussed in his earlier writings (1983: 203– 41). Because the Manifesto is not just addressed to intellectuals but to a wider public, Marx and his co-writer Engels attempt to write in a clear, understandable language. This again serves the purpose of clarifying concepts like class, class struggle, and class consciousness – concepts which have been mentioned before but were never properly spelled out. The Manifesto’s first chapter begins with the famous statement: ‘The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggles’ (1983: 203). Marx and Engels see the motor of history as a conflict between two opposed camps. The fact that the authors identify two opposed forces – patricians and plebeians in the ancient past, bourgeois and proletariat in modern society – reminds the reader of the Hegelian legacy in Marx and Engels: Hegel spoke about the conflict between master and slave. Yet from Hegel, Marx and Engels take only the idea of two opposed forces to analyse the form of the conflict. On the concrete level of historical content Marx and Engels see qualitative and quantitative differences, new dimensions which distinguish the present class-conflict from the

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past: the ever increasing division of labour, the expanding markets and the changing character of production – a production which has turned into an industry. The remainder of the first chapter of the Manifesto reads like a political sociology of the two sides of the classconflict. Since it is obvious that the authors sympathise with the cause of the proletariat, it might come as a surprise to see the authors stressing the revolutionary contributions made by the bourgeoisie in shaping modern history. Marx and Engels consider the bourgeoisie as the dynamic force which cuts off all ties that bind man to ‘natural superiors’ and which puts an end to the personal dependencies of the feudalistic times; it is constantly trying to revolutionise the means of production and with it, the relations of production. Additionally, the bourgeoisie attempts to break down the national boundaries of production; it is therefore a keen advocate of free trade. The increasing globalising tendencies of production and the world market have yet another effect: they confront the last corner of the world, ‘even the most barbarian’ with civilisation. There are also other changes which belong to this civilising process, such as the subjugation of the countryside to the town and the city, the improvement of communication levels, and the centralising tendencies in political and economical affairs. Finally, the bourgeoisie, in its attempt to increase production even more and to create even larger markets to sell goods in order to make more profit, also created a force, which, at a later stage, would become its opponent, the grave-digger of the bourgeoisie – the working class, the proletariat (1983: 204 –11). The unique features of this working class devolves from the fact that human beings who are not in the fortunate position of owning capital or having access to other resources which would help them to make a living must sell their labour power as a commodity to the bourgeois capitalist. As a commodity, wage-labour is treated like any other commodity – with all the consequences such as becoming an appendage, an extension of the machine, and to some extent even giving up democratic rights by having to follow orders and commands. Worse still: the more modern industry develops, the more it will suck human beings into the system – indiscriminate of differences in age and sex. Furthermore, because of the inherent enlarging tendencies of modern production, the middle class consisting of small tradespeople, shopkeepers, artisans, etc. will slowly be eroded. In the Manifesto Marx and Engels actually predict


that this middle class would join the ranks of the working class. Resulting from these developing tendencies, the proletariat would represent the majority of the working people. It would become – and again, Marx and Engels refer to Hegel – a truly universal class. Yet, for Marx and Engels the proletariat is not only the universal class in terms of sheer numbers, but also in terms of qualitative differences derived from their material conditions. According to Marx and Engels, the working class has ‘nothing to lose but its chains’ and ‘a world to win’ (1983: 241). Why – one must ask – do Marx and Engels regard and acknowledge the working class as so special? The answer to this question is given by the authors in the chapter on ‘Proletarians and Communists’ (1983: 218–28). For Marx and Engels the working class sells its labour power as wage labour. Yet, if it is true that labour power is simply being traded like any other commodity on the market, it is equally true to say that labour power is a special commodity and is unique in that it is indivisibly linked to human beings. Human beings sell their unique capacity to an employer who will then use that labour power and who in exchange will pay the labourer a certain amount for his wage labour – just enough for the labourer’s subsistence. But hiring labour power is unique in that living labour has the capacity to generate more work than the capitalist is willing to pay for. This living labour is being used by the capitalist to make a surplus value – a profit – which will be used to accumulate capital. Capital is past or dead labour due to the fact that it is nothing but the ‘melted’ and accumulated form of living labour. To summarise the argument then, capital – and here Marx and Engels disagree with classical political economy – is not a gain made because the individual is clever, or because he is working harder, but because he uses other people’s work to make profit. Capital according to Marx and Engels is socially produced, it is ‘not a personal (but) … a social power’ (1983: 220). This accumulation seems to be a vicious circle. Yet, according to Marx and Engels, there is an opportunity for escape. A social system based on the exploitation of living labour generates its own conflicts – conflicts between the forces of production and the relations of production. Additionally – and again Marx and Engels are using Hegelian metaphors – if the working class becomes conscious of itself, it could also turn into a social force for itself. The social power which is

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derived from collective consciousness will eventually generate proletarian class-action directed against the capitalist class. Social upheaval and social revolution would be the consequences. This struggle would quash all conflict between exploiters and the exploited. The result would be a new society free from the conflict between classes. Again Marx and Engels refer to their earlier distinction of living and past or dead labour when stressing that this new society would be one where ‘the present dominates the past’, not the past the present as in bourgeois society (1983: 220). A stage will be reached where ‘… we shall have an association in which the free development of each is the condition for the free development of all’ (1983: 228). Particularly with this last remark the authors make it clear that they see their critique of political economy as serving the cause of moral values stemming from the enlightenment tradition – the freedom and development of each individual. The Grundrisse (1983: 375–94) and particularly Capital I (1983: 432–503) must be understood as further attempts to further clarify what has been said so far. These writings are more scientific in discussing methodological implications. The critique of political economy becomes less schematic and is much more concrete and precise in dealing with historical evidence. In the famous introduction to the Grundrisse Marx delineates more precisely what he understands by production. He is aware of the fact that the concept of production in general is a necessary abstraction ‘… inasmuch as it really calls attention to and fixes the common element’ (1983: 377). Marx introduces the Hegelian meaning universality to the concept of production. This move makes it possible to investigate other, more peculiar aspects of political economy which Marx sees as interrelated to production, as ‘members of a totality, differences within a unity’ – distribution, exchange and consumption (1983: 383). Marx takes these concepts stemming from political economy and gives them a new meaning through dissecting them in an almost Hegelian fashion. When he talks about capital in the context of production for example he stresses the historical semantics of the concept. ‘Capital’ notes Marx, ‘is among other things also an instrument of production, the objectification of past labour. Therefore capital is a universal and perpetual condition of nature’ (1983: 378). As this example demonstrates, Marx’s thought reflects a process: it moves from the most general or universal aspect of production to


the particulars of distribution and exchange, to the singular concept of consumption – and vice versa. In demonstrating the processual character of production, Marx’s use of words stemming from political economy turns into its own critique. At the end of the introduction to the Grundrisse, Marx stresses that the capital must be the starting point and the conclusion of the critique of political economy (1983: 392). He perceives of capital as being similar to Hegel’s spirit. His analysis of capital resembles therefore Hegel’s phenomenology – the only difference being that the process is conceived of not as a further development of the spirit, but as a materialistic process. The method that Marx has outlined in his Grundrisse manuscript is applied in Das Kapital. Das Kapital I aims at dissecting the commodity-form of the product of labour. In analysing; ‘the economic cell-form’ of bourgeois society Marx is again ambiguous about the critique of political economy. One can find various passages where the author is highly critical of political economy but still remains within the realms of political economy – particularly entertaining for example is his reference to Robinson Crusoe’s experience as the lone producer reflected in classical economy. Yet there are also paragraphs where Marx is truly and convincingly a critic of political economy. In the chapter entitled ‘The Secret of Primitive Accumulation’ Marx deals with origins and the history of capital (1983: 461–5). Here he distances himself from classical political economy by dissecting what for political economy has become second nature – the system of production, distribution, exchange and consumption. To break through the myths of capitalist society one must deal with its underlying anticipations. As Marx explains, classical political economy regards the origins of capitalism – primitive accumulation – as theology regards original sin: ‘Adam bit the apple, and thereupon sin fell on the human race. Its origin is supposed to be explained when it is told as an anecdote of the past’ (1983: 462). Similarly there is the story that political economy tells: ‘In times long gone by there were two sorts of people; one, the diligent, intelligent, and, above all, frugal elite; the other, lazy rascals, spending their substance, and more, in riotous living’ (ibid.). From that early moment onwards the world consisted of the ‘have’ and the ‘have-nots’ – at least according to political economy. For Marx this does not constitute a credible explanation. By looking at English

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history, Marx attempts to explain the black box of political economy. According to the author there had to be certain conditions for capital to evolve. Central for Marx is ‘the expropriation of the agricultural producer, of the peasant, from the soil …’ (1983: 465). Only in England were the conditions ripe: serfdom and the feudal bonds had disappeared; the Glorious Revolution accelerated the ascendancy of the landlord and capitalist appropriator of surplus-value; the ‘systematic robbery’ of communal land, the small tenant farmer with not enough land, the development of capital or merchant farms, the ‘clearing’ of estates – all contributed ‘to set free the agricultural population as proletarians for manufacturing industry’ and to introduce capitalistic agriculture (1983: 478). Marx reminds his readers here of the crude, terroristic methods that were part of primitive accumulation. Additionally, he stresses the point that it was in England and nowhere else, that this development could take place. The third point revolves around the fact that capitalism in England first developed in the countryside – not in the city. In contrast to an explanation which maintains that capitalism evolved in the city with capital stemming from unequal trade and the exploitation of the colonies, Marx stresses that the emergence of the industrial capitalist and the labourer was rooted in primitive accumulation and from capitalistic agriculture. It was in the early stages of agricultural capitalism that expropriation and exploitation of the labourer could develop. This insistence on the fact that self-earned property is made impossible through capitalism, that capitalistic private property – owning the means of production – is based on exploitation, clearly sets Marx apart from political economy and rather makes him a critic of political economy. The unresolved contradictions between moral values stemming from the enlightenment tradition which enabled Marx to be critical of political economy, and, on the other side, Marx’s critical, yet sympathetic use of political economy to criticise the reality of capitalist society creates tensions – particularly when it comes down to understanding and explaining a society which is vastly different from European societies. Marx never fully investigated American society, nor were the developments in the United States of particular concern to his critique. In drawing a comparison between the US and England in particular, it was clear that the US was both exceptional and ‘normal’. It was exceptional in that its history opens with a political revolution


and the War of Independence. America freed herself from the motherland and completely therefore from any remnants of the middle ages. Particularly important in this respect was the access to land – as opposed to England, where there was a monopoly for the distribution of land. One must also take into account the very different patterns of immigration. In the preface to the Russian edition of the Communist Manifesto Marx notes that immigration in particular helped the US to get ahead in terms of capitalist competition: ‘… immigration fitted North America for a gigantic agricultural production … . In addition it enabled the United States to exploit its tremendous industrial resources with an energy and on a scale that must shortly break the industrial monopoly of Western Europe, and especially England. … Both circumstances react in revolutionary manner upon America itself’ (1983: 556). In other words: capitalism could develop almost without restriction, because of the peculiar conditions. In that respect, Marx saw America as the purest example of capitalist bourgeois society. Speaking about the modern form of labour he writes in the Grundrisse: ‘Such a state of affairs is most highly developed in the most modern example of bourgeois society – the United States. Here, then, the abstraction of the category ‘labour’, ‘labour in general’, labour unadorned, the starting point of modern economy, is first realised in practice’ (1983: 389). Marx was so aware of the speed of development in the US that he asked his friend Sorge to provide him with the latest information about California. ‘I should be very much pleased’, writes Marx ‘if you could find me something meaty on economic conditions in California … California is very important for me because nowhere else has the upheaval most shamelessly caused by capitalist centralisation taken place with such a speed’ (Marx and Engels, 1953: 126). Yet while Marx was willing to acknowledge the peculiar advanced state of America, he saw nothing extraordinary about the US in general. He regarded the US as another capitalist country – only purer in its appearance. On 5 December, 1878 the Chicago Tribune published an interview with Karl Marx, that had been conducted some days earlier. The interviewer was deeply impressed by the knowledge of the man he had to interview. ‘During my conversations’, writes the reporter ‘I was struck with his intimacy with American questions, which have been uppermost during the past twenty years’ (1953: 64). The report

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continues: ‘His knowledge of them, and the surprising accuracy with which he criticised our National and State legislation, impressed upon my mind the fact that he must have derived his information from inside sources’ (ibid.). The reporter was right. Marx, and later Engels, were provided with much information from ‘inside sources’. These sources were mainly friends who emigrated to America and who were keen on keeping in contact – not just for ‘the cause’ but also for personal and professional reasons. Two sources in particular were of importance: Friedrich Sorge, a political refugee who emigrated to the US after the revolutionary events of 1848/49 in Germany, and who would later become a leader of the First International; and Joseph Weydemeyer, also an activist from 1848, who like Sorge had left Germany for political reasons. Weydemeyer became a strong supporter of the abolitionist movement. He supported Abraham Lincoln and decided to fight for the cause. It was during the time when Weydemeyer fought in the American Civil War that he was able to provide Marx and Engels – who were keen observers of this war – with inside information. The information was especially helpful since Marx was writing for the New York Daily Tribune – a forerunner of the New York Times. His articles were meant to represent a kind of feedback: reports in terms of how Europeans thought and reacted to American events. Yet, in some of these articles and reports and some of Marx’s and Engels’ letters, the events are seen in a larger context. While Engels was primarily more occupied with the military progression of the Civil War and how this progression related to the emancipatory cause, Marx was more concerned with what he saw as peculiarities of the American development. He interpreted the War not just as a Civil War between North and South, but almost as a Hegelian struggle between two competing social systems which were mutually exclusive – one based on slavery, the other on free labour (Marx and Engels, 1976: 64). It must be mentioned in this context that although Marx was a strong defender of the Union’s cause, he had concerns with the way the war was conducted. More than once he criticised the North for fighting the cause only on constitutional grounds, while in his opinion the war should have been fought for revolutionary reasons. For Marx these limitations were due to the fact that the North was still a bourgeois republic. Yet again: this bourgeois republic and its ‘plebeian’ President Lincoln were still more favourable than the


South with its ‘4 millions “white trash” ’ – oligarchy, dependent on the productive labour of its ‘niggers’ (1976: 180, 184). Marx also supported Lincoln and the Union in a practical way. Marx himself – as he confessed in a letter to his friend Weydemeyer – drafted the telegram of the International Workingmen’s Association to Abraham Lincoln in which he congratulated him on his re-election. In this telegram Marx stresses the importance of the struggle for the abolition of slavery and links this struggle to the cause of the workers – the real force behind the North’s political strength (1976: 223f). Friedrich Sorge, the second intimate source, was, like Weydemeyer, a correspondent for Marx. After Marx’ death in 1883 he became the major source for Friedrich Engels. In the letters that Engels wrote to Sorge he expressed openly his views on the United States. He referred particularly to the period of Reconstruction after the Civil War. It was clear to Engels that together with England and Germany, the US belonged to the most important countries competing for the world market – which would have a serious impact on the condition of the working classes and their associations (Marx and Engels, 1953: 150). It was Engels’ worry that they should be prepared for the struggles that would lie ahead: ‘What the down-break of Russian Czarism would be for the great military monarchies of Europe – the snapping of their mainstay – that is for the bourgeois of the whole world the breaking out of class war in America’ (1953: 157). Seen in this perspective, it is not difficult to see why the ‘European approach’ of the different worker’s associations became such a major concern for Engels. In a letter to Sorge he writes about his ideological reservations: ‘… for good historical reasons, the Americans are worlds behind in all theoretical questions, and while they did not bring over any medieval institutions from Europe, they did bring over masses of medieval traditions, religion, English common (feudal) law, superstition, spiritualism, in short every kind of imbecility which was not directly harmful to business and which is now very serviceable for stupefying the masses’ (1953: 164), Engels knew that the German radicals could be of assistance here – theoretically that is. But Engels also knew his comrades well. If they approached their fellow workers with the Manifesto in hand, people would resist. Engels suggested thus to Sorge, that to convince, enlighten and ‘instruct’ people ‘… it must be done in English: the specific German character must be laid aside’ (1953: 164). Yet such a language could

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only hide Engels’ own weaknesses and contradictions when it came to America: on one hand he promotes an openness to the new and peculiar conditions of the American working class – especially their immigrant experience; on the other hand Engels was representative of peculiarly German intellectual arrogance – in terms of being the theoretical leader or spearhead convinced of the path that would lead to socialism. Engels’ ambivalence concerning America became obvious when visiting the US in 1888. While crossing the Atlantic on his way to New York Engels began taking notes which showed the usual intellectual arrogance of a man of Kultur. Yet, once in America, things obviously changed. Through personal experience Engels seemed close to rejecting easy answers concerning the United States. He was obviously deeply impressed by what he saw – he never finished the article he intended to write about his American experience. It should be clear by what has been said so far, that in both Marx’s and Engels’ use of the critique of political economy, and in their ‘small writings’ an unresolved tension exists, on one side the tension that arises through attempting to make American reality fit into the critique of political economy; on the other side, as a result of the moral values, high hopes and aspirations of Marx and Engels. Such contradictions were avoided by another classic sociologist for whom class struggle was not the motor of history, but whose work resembles in many ways that of Karl Marx, and continues where Marx stopped: Max Weber.

3 Max Weber: Political Economy as Sociology

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: history as increasing rationalisation and secularisation; Neo-Kantianism, hermeneutics, Friedrich Nietzsche, Karl Marx. Model/paradigm(s): capitalism based on exchange and trade (2000 years); modern form of capitalism based on rationalisation (400 years). Concepts: class (as defined by position in the market), income and occupation, status, lifestyles and honour, parties, power, Protestant work ethic, bureaucracy, charisma and charismatic leadership. Emipiral environment(s): Europe, USA, Asia.

In contrast to Marx, Max Weber (1864 –1920) was a political economist who contributed directly to the formation of the newly emerging academic discipline of sociology. Weber studied law, political economy, history, philosophy and theology; after receiving his doctorate and his habilitation certificate he taught political economy at the universities of Freiburg, Heidelberg, Vienna and Munich. Together with Werner Sombart he edited the Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitik, one of the first journals to deal with sociology proper. During his lifetime Weber published ground-breaking studies that are now considered to be classics in the field of sociology, among them Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism and such ground-breaking essays and reflections Politics as Vocation and Science as Vocation. Yet Weber did not finish his magnum opus Economy and Society in his lifetime; this massive study was only published posthumously, edited by his wife Marianne Weber. Max Weber was not only of a different 25

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generation than Marx, but also of different political orientation. He was not a radical, but a liberal with national aspirations. These two facts had an impact on his writings. Being of a different generation Weber could see further than his predecessor who could only describe the early stages of capitalism. For Weber to be born later meant not only to be in a position to observe the further developments of capitalism worldwide, but also to have had the ‘advantage’ of experiencing World War I, and, witnessing from a distance, the first years of the Russian Revolution. Having been a contemporary of these events, Weber was less optimistic about the future of mankind; this might also explain why he favoured a more realistic approach in analysing societal development. In Weber’s work we can see a shift of emphasis in the politics he supported: in his younger years the anti-democratic national element played an important role – in accordance with the general trend of German intellectuals at the time; later, although still holding reservations against the first German democracy, Weber became a liberal who supported the new Weimar Republic and maintained close contact with the Social Democratic Party. Before we take a closer look at Weber’s main writings and the concepts that were developed therein, it is necessary to stress another important aspect which sets Weber apart from Marx. Weber was a political economist, not a critic of political economy. Yet it is impossible to understand his use of political economy in the sociological context without taking his overall ‘philosophical’ approach to history into account. Where Marx sees class struggle as the ‘motor’ of history, Weber took a different view. Weber was convinced that the civilising process is in fact a rationalising process. In the most general terms rationalisation refers to the degree in which mythical, magical moments become less important in guiding and explaining human action, and rational explanations become more relevant (Weber, 1946: 139–56). Although Weber was aware of the fact that in the course of history, periods of regression (in terms of non-rational behaviour) can be observed, he imagines history to be an unilinear process by which our increasing knowledge serves as means to achieve certain ends – thereby giving meaning to human action and rendering the action of individuals more purposeful, and thus, in the last instance, making social action more rational (which does not necessarily equal more individual freedom or reason). There are different

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expressions of this rationalising process in society; the tendency of secularisation is one, bureaucracy might serve as another example. When Max Weber’s political economy-approach is seen in the context of this rationalising process, it becomes clearer where Weber’s concept of capitalism differs from Marx’s understanding of capitalism. For Marx, all history is class struggle; yet his notion of capitalism is historically specific: it was ‘invented’ in a specific place, England; and it evolved at a certain time – roughly between 1790 and 1830. For Weber, in contrast, the origins of capitalism are to be found in trade, and the production and exchange of goods; logically, then, early elements of capitalism can be found in ancient times. Capitalism is then not 200 years old, but rather 2000 years old. Having said this, it must be mentioned that Weber was of course aware of the new features of modern industrial capitalism. Yet it also remains true that for Weber modern industrial capitalism was the extension and multiplication of a potential, a potential consisting of markets, trade and exchange – all elements that can be traced back to the early days of Western society. Max Weber also differed from Marx in that he saw the rise of modern capitalism as not purely based on the development of the material basis of the forces of production, but rather as resulting from an enterprising spirit that developed from the Protestant work ethic – from the ‘superstructure’ so to speak. We have to bear in mind these distinctive explanations of Weber’s political economy when approaching and dealing with concepts that later become part of the sociological ‘canon’. In order to investigate the manner in which Weber formed sociological concepts, it is helpful to begin with Weber’s understanding of power. Power, according to Economy and Society is ‘the chance of a man or a number of men to realise their own will in a communal action even against the resistance of others’ (1946: 180). In this context it is worthwhile stressing that the political economist Weber does not argue economistically at all: he does not see power limited to the economic sphere; but rather that the power relationships can occur in the economical, political and the social order. Different strata within these orders – which Weber calls classes, status groups and parties – are essential, and form part of the distribution of power (1946: 180 –195). The concepts of classes, status groups and parties were central to Weber’s understanding of social stratification. Marx has been accused

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of having an economic definition of class; yet it is important to point out that it was Marx who stressed that class is a social relationship and that it was in fact, Weber, the political economist, who proffered an economic definition of class. According to Weber it is possible to determine a class situation by locating groups in their relationship to the market. Thus, class is defined, firstly, through individuals who have a common ‘fate’ in terms of their life chances; secondly, through securing the same income as they share the same economic interests; and thirdly through being in the same position in the way they offer their labour as a commodity to the market (1946: 181). According to Weber, it is property or the lack of property which are decisive in determining the individual’s chances in competing in the marketplace. To summarise briefly: for Weber, class is an economic category determined by the market or the market position, depending on the individual’s access to property or ownership in general – be it gained through income or other means (1946: 181–6). Differing from Marx, for Weber the modern proletariat logically represents a category of the economic order – and, accordingly, class struggle is something that takes place in the economic sphere of the market – particularly the labour market. Weber notes: ‘… the struggle in which class situations are effective has progressively shifted from consumption credit toward, first, competitive struggles in the commodity market and, then, toward price wars on the labour market’ (1946: 185). He concludes: ‘… today the central issue is the determination of the price of labour’ (1946: 186). To understand the different notions of class and class struggle in Marx and Weber one has to reflect again on the different periods of their writing: while Marx was very optimistic and held high hopes for a positive outcome to class struggle in the 19th Century, it is different to the beginning of the 20th Century. Weber saw the development of the working class in the context of the development of modern society, and what he observed was that other factors began to play a role and had therefore to be taken into account: the rationalisation in industrial production, the increasing power of state intervention in the economy, the development of modern law, the importance of bureaucracies, party politics and charismatic leadership – all factors that were not fully developed when the working class was at its early stages of development. All these distinctive features of modern society had an impact on the system of social

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stratification and led to further differentiation. As pointed out above, Weber tried to conceptualise these new developments: class and class struggle were still important to him, yet they had to be supplemented with new distinctions and concepts like status group, status and parties (1946: 180 –95). For status groups differ from classes in that they are only to a certain extent to be found in the purely economic realm. Status groups are more representative of the social order and thus naturally of an amorphous kind. Honour, styles of life and occupation are central to the definition of status groups. While a class could be easily defined by looking at the position occupied in the marketplace, honour, life style and occupation in modern society vary greatly and are highly differentiated: honour in itself is a very amorphous concept which can barely be measured; titles, rewards and acknowledgement among other features are central to distinguishing who is honourable and who is not; also styles of life are numerous and vary according to the individuals’ wishes and needs, yet common features such as fashion, cars, and preferences in taste might help to identify different life-styles; occupation is probably the easiest category to determine: one can identify clusters of occupational groups by looking at specific features of work such as the material one works with, apprenticeships and other forms of qualifications, whether one is working primarily with other people, or whether one is simply shifting paper, or whether one works in a factory or an office. Since status groups and classes tend to overlap, and since both depend on the general economic conditions, it depends of the shifts in modern economy as to which of the features becomes the more important. Weber notes: ‘When the bases of the acquisition and distribution of goods are relatively stable, stratification by status is favoured. Every technological repercussion and economic transformation threatens stratification by status and pushes the class situation into the foreground. Epochs and countries in which the naked class situation is of predominant significance are regularly the periods of technical and economic transformations’ (1946: 193f). Finally, parties are somewhat special in that they can overlap with class and status groups, the economic and the social order, yet their distinctive feature is that they are related to the political order. In the words of Max Weber, they ‘live in the house of “power” ’ (1946: 194). Parties are formed to reach a certain ‘goal’ or ‘cause’, they try to relate therefore to the economical

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and social realms. Parties might differ, according to the relative importance of either class or status groups in a given society. Yet for Weber neither class, nor status group, nor parties are the most distinctive features of modern society. For him bureaucracy and, related to bureaucracy, charisma and charismatic leadership occupy the central role in modern society (1946: 196–252). Weber starts his analysis with a phenomenology of modern bureaucracy. According to the author, a truly sophisticated bureaucratic system can only develop under modern capitalism. It is based upon, and consists of laws and administrative aspects (regular activities, stability of authority, regular and continuous fulfilment of duties), a system of supervision (in which super- and subordination are the central features), management of information through a public or private office (where written documents, ‘files’, etc. are being kept), trained experts and full commitment of the trained personnel, and, of course, a set of rules, a ‘knowledge’ that every administrator can learn, rely upon, and refer to. Weber stresses the fact that, in order to function properly, the personnel must be separated from the common man or woman. The unique features of work in a bureaucracy serve precisely this purpose: usually the appointment is for life and follows a set career pattern; working conditions differ from other professions in that the officer is not judged on his or her actual working performance but rather moves up the ranks, according to the functional tasks and the time he or she has spent in office – all this amounts in the end to the high esteem within which bureaucracy’s personnel is held. But why, one must ask, does a sophisticated system of bureaucracy only exist in modern capitalism? The answer that Weber provides to this question is twofold; he argues that modern society requires the performance of tasks of such differing quantitative and qualitative types that only a modern bureaucracy is able to cope with them (1946: 209–14). Within the first category of qualitative tasks fall new administrative tasks that developed with the new, geographically larger entities in politics such as federal forms of nation-states (as in the US) or empires (as in the British example), or within modern structures of large scale party organisations. Under quantitative changes, Weber lists the intense internal development which came about with these new forms: modern bureaucracy has to deal with such delicate issues as the changing character of state power – ranging from law-enforcing

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agencies to educational matters; it also has to deal with more political aspects such as pacification, welfare, and communication infrastructure. In this respect, the technical advantages of the bureaucracy are obvious: ‘Precision, speed, unambiguity, knowledge of the files, continuity, discretion, unity, strict subordination, reduction of friction and of material and personal costs – these are raised to the optimum point in the strictly bureaucratic administration …’ (1946: 214). The bureaucracy is performing these tasks in a very disciplined manner, disregarding personal connections, with only the final objective in mind. In the end bureaucracy develops to such an extent that the set of formerly unwritten rules becomes administrative law – a law specially designed for public administrative tasks. Thus, bureaucracy becomes even more reliable and calculable – an obvious advantage not just in terms of the objective of bureaucracy, but also for the clients and customers who have to deal with, or who depend on the bureaucracy. Weber sums up the advantages when he writes: ‘ “Equality before the law” and the demand for legal guarantees against arbitrariness demand a formal and rational “objectivity” of administration, as opposed to the personally free discretion flowing from the “grace” of the old patrimonial domination’ (1946: 220). As has been seen in the last paragraph, Weber appears very optimistic about the development of modern bureaucracy yet also sees the disadvantages of the ‘iron cage of bureaucracy’ – particularly when its central features are seen in the context of the development of modern mass democracy. The danger of the bureaucratisation of politics was a major concern to the sociologist: it was clear that modern democracy could not function like the Greek polis; not only did the size of nation states not allow gatherings of the demos in a stadium anymore, but further, the differentiation of tasks in modern society inevitably confirmed the split between the rulers and the ruled. The question which arose for Weber was then: how responsible can the leaders in modern democracies be; and, how can they democratically be controlled? How is it possible for politicians to address fundamental problems and to seize the initiative when they depend on bureaucratic organisations? Weber was also very much concerned with the openness of the decision-making process. The sociologist Weber gives no final answer to the problems raised. The term of the ‘iron cage of bureaucracy’ shows that Weber

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saw the development of modern democracy as unstoppable (1946: 240 –8). If there was a way to minimise risks, it was first of all the democratic procedure – parliamentary control and constitutional binds – that would keep bureaucracy in check; secondly, there had to be a careful selection of people working for the bureaucracy. In regards to the selection process of personnel, Weber would rather opt for those he calls the classically and humanistically educated ‘cultivated man’, than for the ‘specialist type of man’ who did not have a humanistic education and who would only decide on the basis of the facts on his file. Yet, Weber mentions a third possibility which could become a counterweight to the rationalisation of bureaucracy – charisma, or, the charismatic leader (1946: 245–52). Weber conceives of a conscious leadership as a method to ‘inject fresh blood’ into the system: a person could use his or her personality, his or her charisma in order to maintain and even enhance democracy – depending on his or her personal creed, honesty, and commitment to parliamentary democracy. The leader could then initiate reform and control. Yet, there is also the danger that this person could develop into a non-accountable, authoritarian leader. Bureaucracy could be used by this leader to pursue his own goals – the result would indeed be a threat to democratic government and a challenge to parliamentary democracy. To summarise then, Max Weber’s political economy can be seen as a reflection of the times, and as an attempt to conceptualise an increasingly differentiated modern society. On the one hand, in reflecting the times, Weber’s political economy is certainly more economistic than Marx’s critique of political economy in that he defines classes and class struggles as being present and taking place in the economic realm: thus, capitalism is conceived of as being essentially structured around economical matters. Yet Weber’s sociology goes further than classical political economy and Marx’s critique: Weber’s insight into the modern rationalising process surely hints at aspects that Marx was not able to see. Particularly the increasingly instrumental approach to rationality in modern society – as in modern bureaucracy – casts a shadow over some of Marx’s central ideas like the conception of the progress of human kind, based on a supposedly everlasting progression of the forces of production. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels saw the United States as both ‘exceptional’ and ‘normal’. The US was exceptional in that they

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started as a society free of feudal bonds, as a pure capitalist society; and yet, America was at the same time regarded as ‘normal’ in that it was capitalist like other Western societies. Max Weber also considered America to be both ‘exceptional’ and ‘normal’. Yet, in contrast to Marx, Weber illustrated in his classic study The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism that ideas could be a major force in history (1946: 302–22). He demonstrated that it was the Protestant work ethic and particularly the Calvinists’ belief in leading an ascetic life which directly contributed to the emergence of modern capitalism. According to Weber, Calvinism was based on the commitment to hard work and the rejection of worldly pleasures. Because the believer spent little or no money, he was in a position that allowed him to save and accumulate capital – capital which could later be invested into capitalist enterprises. In this respect the United States was for Weber not very different from other capitalist countries, it was different only in terms of its purer forms. Thus, while Marx considered the United States to be exceptionalist in capitalist terms, Weber regarded America as being ‘purer’ and exceptionalist in terms of religion. In 1904 Max Weber was invited to America. He went first to New York and to Chicago, and during his four month-stay visited St. Louis, Oklahoma, New Orleans, North Carolina, and Virginia before returning to the East Coast. His stay in the United States allowed Weber to draw a comparison between different Western societies and to form conclusions for his work in progress. In his posthumously published Economy and Society, many references to the United States can be found. The chapter on classes, status groups and parties for example refers directly back to Webers’s US experience: while for most of the European countries, class was still the distinguishing feature, American society was less class bound; rather inequality in the United States found its expression through status groups (1946: 186–95). The emphasis on parties as a distinctive feature of Western societies certainly stems from observing ‘machine politics’ in larger American cities. Additionally, the whole idea of bureaucracy and its ambivalent meaning for modern democracy stems from the same observation. In other words, in America, Weber glimpsed the future: what could be observed in the then present-day America would soon develop in Europe. Furthermore, through observing the developing American democracy, Weber’s thesis on

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the Protestant spirit being at the root of the development of capitalism was also affirmed. Weber’s arguments went full circle: Weber did not only get a glimpse of the future but also of the past – which in turn had an impact on Weber’s analysis and interpretation of present day America. He writes: ‘It can be demonstrated that everywhere, including Europe, the religiosity of the ascetist sects has for several centuries worked in the same way as has been illustrated … for the case of America’ (1946: 312). Weber concludes: ‘The survivals in contemporary America are the derivatives of a religious regulation of life which once worked with penetrating efficiency’ (1946: 313). Soon after returning from the United States, Weber continued to work on the subject of The Protestant Ethic. In particular the essay entitled The Protestant Sects and the Spirit of Capitalism Weber relies heavily on his American experiences (1946: 302–22). That which was so distinctive in the United States compared to other capitalist societies, was the fact that there had been a clear separation of church and state; hence no state-church, but rather the existence of a number of sects – mostly of Protestant origin. Two distinct organising principles lie at the heart of the difference: ‘Affiliation with the church is, in principle, obligatory and hence proves nothing with regard to the member’s qualities. A sect however, is a voluntary association of only those who, according to the principle, are religiously and morally qualified’ (1946: 306). In other words: moral behaviour, ethics and additionally the voluntary aspects are the distinctive features which set the Protestant sects apart from the church which itself relies on a dogma and on life-long membership inherited from, and depending on ones parents’ religious affiliations. What was also different was the fact that while members of a state-church were representative of the stratified society at large – members came from all kinds of class backgrounds – the Protestant sects in America were basically of middle class origin. Being a member of the local Methodist or Baptist church meant an advantage for middle class individuals: if one was accepted by the local community, and also, if one could rely on that community, in practical terms it meant fewer risks. Put positively, membership in the local community meant ‘credit worthiness’ (Max Weber). If one was successful, the church would serve as a ladder for upward mobility into the circle of the entrepreneurial middle class. Weber notes that ‘… not a few of the American “promoters”, “captains of industry”, of the

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multi-millionaires and trust magnates belonged formally to sects …’ (1946: 308). The very fact that in America, one’s ascendancy into the middle class or even higher circles is dependent on a social infrastructure, on intermediary forms, throws a light on the peculiarities of American society. For Weber, America cannot be understood unless one understands the role which voluntary associations – the local church being one of them – play in that country. For Weber, secularisation changed only the content, not the form of modern voluntary associations. Thus, membership of the local church served as a predecessor to political membership. In the words of Max Weber: ‘… full citizenship status in the church congregation was the precondition for full citizenship in the state’ (1946: 312). In America church and state were and remain separate entities; yet from this fact Weber correctly concluded that this does not necessarily mean that there is no relationship between the two. Quite the opposite is true: the experience in the church as a voluntary association had an impact on the formation of the characters of its members. In other words: the ‘training’, the ‘expertise’ members received in the religious institution, later served in the realm of democratic political institutions. What Weber’s sociological observations revealed then, was nothing less then the peculiar circumstances of the birth of democratic civil society in America.

4 Emile Durkheim, Georg Simmel and Ferdinand Tönnies: Social Differentiation and Functionalist Sociology

Emile Durkheim

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: functionalism, history as a process of social differentiation; Auguste Comte, Wilhelm Wundt, Georg Simmel, American Pragmatism. Model/paradigm(s): primitive and modern society. Concepts: mechanical solidarity (under the conditions of a minimal division of labour, no developed forms of individuality, enforced collective rules and repressive forms in primitive society); organic solidarity (under the conditions of a highly developed division of labour, developed forms of subjectivity, with voluntary associations and the internalisation of norms in a modern society); anomie. Empirical environment(s): France, modern Continental Europe.

Despite the fact that analysis of American society did not play a major role in the writings of Emile Durkheim, Georg Simmel and Ferdinand Tönnies, their classic contributions to the formation of sociological concepts are crucial to our purposes of studying the historical semantics of social stratification in the case of America – and therefore must be given due attention. We shall first look at Emile Durkheim’s contribution and then focus on the relevant sociological essays of Georg Simmel and the work of Ferdinand Tönnies. This 36

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will be followed by a brief discussion on the usefulness of the contributions of the three sociologist vis-à-vis the analysis of America’s system of social stratification. Emile Durkheim (1858–1917) was, after Auguste Comte, the secondary ‘founder’ of sociology in France. After having taught in the provinces for some time and after a longer stay in Germany, Durkheim finally became a professor of sociology and education at the University of Bordeaux. Only late in life (1912) did Durkheim receive a professorship from the Sorbonne in Paris. The pioneering and renowned journal L’ Année Sociologique which Durkheim edited with Marcel Mauss was partly responsible for making his fame, but it was the publication of four major studies, which all became classic readings in the discipline and which truly established Durkheim’s reputation as a sociologist. These four studies were: The Division of Labour in Society, The Rules of Sociological Method, Suicide, and Elementary Forms of Religious Life. The fact that Durkheim’s work appears to be much more coherent than Marx’s and Weber’s, is due to the fact that he was not a critic of political economy torn between serious analysis and value judgements as were Marx and Engels, nor a political economist like Weber, who broadened his approach in an attempt to give the newly emerging field of sociology a proper foundation. Durkheim was a pure sociologist from the very beginning of his career; additionally, he used a functionalist approach to analyse society – which again serves to minimise the risk of being self-contradictive. Functionalism can be defined as ‘an investigation of society as if it were a system of parts, which are interconnected to form various structures, each of which fulfils some function for the system’ (Grabb, 1984: 71) In the functionalist approach, society is seen as resembling the living organism. To keep a living organism alive, different parts of this organism must fulfil certain tasks; they must contribute to, and function in accordance with the needs of the organism. As with the functions of a living organism parts of, or better still, sub-systems of a society respond to the needs of the living body called ‘society’. The functionalist approach permits the sociologist to pose such questions as ‘How is society possible’, ‘What does society consist of?’, and ‘What is holding or binding society together?’. In The Rules of Sociological Method Durkheim made it clear that sociology differs from political economy and the critique of

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political economy, in that society is formed by relationships, and that it is therefore far more than the sum of its individuals, and, accordingly, that society and its manifestations in social institutions and milieus should be observed, studied, referred to, and compared to a ‘thing’ (Durkheim, 1982: Introduction). Yet it was in his first study, The Division of Labour in Society, that Durkheim reflected concretely on the structures which assist society in maintaining itself (Durkheim, 1984: 11–175). It was in this ground-breaking publication that his view – i.e. the differentiation-process of varying tasks makes modern society possible – found its full expression. It was also in this study that Durkheim became aware of the binds which hold society together: according to the author, it is certain forms of solidarity that develop according to the level of differentiation which serve as the finding ‘cement’. In his study, Durkheim compares two different ideal types of society, primitive and modern society (1984: 11–87). He describes primitive society as having no, or minimal division of labour, as economically self-sufficient, and additionally, as being dominated by superstitious, polytheistic religions and repressive forms of law. In primitive society, individual expressions are still heavily influenced by, and bear the marks of the larger group that they belong to. There is no such thing as ‘individuality’ or a differentiated individual consciousness. In such a society mechanical solidarity is the central feature that holds society together. Mechanical solidarity refers here to a set of collective rules and regulations which structure social life and which influence and structure individuals’ life in primitive societies. In contrast, modern society bears all the hallmarks of a highly differentiated society: a highly developed division of labour with specialised tasks, the development and internalisation of norms, values and co-operative law as opposed to repressive laws, and the development of individualist forms – all of these features are expressions of organic solidarity. What is new about this modern form of solidarity is that it binds the individuals of society together using a set of uncodified moral rules. It is this set of uncodified moral rules, expressed in and through voluntary action, association and co-operation that distinguishes primitive society from modern society. Two forms of consciousness correspond to the distinction that Durkheim draws between mechanical and organic solidarity: ‘… one that we share in common with our group in its entirety, which is


consequently not ourselves, but society living and acting within us; the other that, on the contrary, represents us alone in what is personal and distinctive about us, what makes us an individual’ (1984: 84f). What Durkheim seeks to emphasise is that the first type of consciousness does not allow any forms of personality. Personality in the words of Durkheim simply ‘… disappears, for we are no longer ourselves, but a collective being’ (ibid.). What Durkheim means, is not that the individuals’ thinking disappears completely, but rather that the consciousness of the individual becomes ‘simply a dependency of the collective type’. With mechanical solidarity the individual ‘does not belong to himself’, but ‘is literally a thing at the disposal of society’ (ibid.). With the division of labour a radical change occurs. Whilst in primitive society the personality of the individual is completely dependent on the collective, in modern society the individual person has ‘a sphere of action’ around him or her, which liberates that individual from the collective bonds and therefore makes space for progression, and thus the process of individualisation is possible. Similar to a living organism this differentiation-process permits society to adjust and to function properly – hence the concept of organical solidarity. Durkheim attempted to expand his argument even more by disputing the ambivalent implications of the modern division of labour. As we have seen, for the French sociologist it is the differentiation of labour which serves to replace the old, collective bonds that held primitive societies together; yet does this automatically indicate that there is a progression in leaving primitive society behind and entering the modern age? Do the modern forms of organic solidarity provide a greater degree of contentment? In raising these critical question it becomes clear that Durkheim was not a naive observer of the progress of society; he certainly never anticipated a final state of the civilising process whereby complete contentment would prevail. For Durkheim there is no optimistic view of the development of the forces of production, and no such precept as the ‘end of a history of conflict’ as in Marx’s concept of communism. By the same token, Durkheim’s arguments do not resemble the pessimistic view of Weber’s ‘iron cage’ of bureaucratisation. For the French sociologist, the differentiation process simply helps society to adjust to new conditions; and yet, since society is now able to reproduce itself on a higher level, it does not necessarily follow that

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individuals of that society would be more content. Moments of crisis necessarily arise – Durkheim calls these peaks anomie – where the individuals would not be content with the division of labour (1984: 291–309). Anomie would come about at some stage of the differentiation process as the division of labour would develop almost anarchically, without any regulation. Durkheim cites the example of the hostility between labour and capital. Labour and capital were drifting apart due to the extreme division of labour. Whilst in the early stages of the production process ‘the workman everywhere lived side by side with his master’, the relationship changed completely with the coming of the industrial age where ‘the workman became … separated from his boss’ (1984: 292f). Thus, in contrast to Marx, Durkheim does not question the existence of labour and capital, nor the separation of workmen and bosses. The opposite is true: he regards the two opposing forces of capital and labour as essential to the division of labour. They fulfil a function for the larger evolution of society. Yet this does not mean that Durkheim became a defender of the ‘natural’ tendencies of societal development. In fact, Durkheim objects to forms of anomie and crisis and aims at quelling conflict. The author has a kind of equilibrium in mind where unique functions are maintained ‘… in constant contact with neighbouring functions, becoming aware of their needs and the changes that take place in them’ (1984: 306). This equilibrium can only be achieved if society develops fully into civil society and if it is paralleled by a regulating, interventionist state. A civil society consisting of intermediary forms is needed to create bonds between the individual and the larger whole of society. At the same time the state may serve as a corrective element to the anarchic development and differentiation of the division of labour. It is through, and with the help of, these two forces, civil society and the state, that modern forms of individuality are established and maintained. If these two forces are absent, society falls into a state of disaggregation – with consequences that are ultimately disastrous. As Durkheim has shown in Suicide, the clearest sign of crisis in a given society, is the voluntary and complete physical withdrawal of human beings (Durkheim, 1952). Durkheim distinguishes between four different societal extremes as being responsible for unusually high rates of suicide: egoism or alternatively altruism, stemming from the fact that society is not able to bind or connect individuals


in a balanced way; and anomie or alternatively fatalism, resulting from a lack of intermediate bodies which could help to regulate social life. It was only later, in his study of The Elementary Forms of Religious Life that Durkheim admitted that there was another normative force – religion – which, in addition to voluntary associations in civil society and an interventionist state, could play a role in preventing society from developing anomic forms such as suicide (Durkheim, 1968). While in his earlier works Durkheim maintained that there was an irrepressible drift and unilinear surge towards secularisation, he later regarded religion as performing a function which could also prove to be central to the preservation of modern society: religious symbols and rituals were thus not limited to primitive societies but could serve modern society as well, particularly in regards to transmitting and preserving ‘collective sentiments’ and ‘collective ideas’. Georg Simmel

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: functionalism (including conflict), society as a process of social differentiation; Neo-Kantianism, Wilhelm Dilthey, Max Weber, Werner Sombart, Ferdinand Tönnies, Herbert Spencer. Model/paradigm(s): modern society. Concepts: conflict derived from association (functional) or dissociation (disfunctional), domination (subordination under an individual, a plurality or a principle); group expansion and individuality (the more differentiated the group/society is, the more individuality and individual freedom exists). Empirical environment(s): Germany, modern continental Europe.

As the American sociologist Donald N. Levine in an introduction to the selected writings of Georg Simmel has pointed out, Emile Durkheim was not aware of Max Weber’s work, yet he was familiar with the work and efforts of another German thinker and sociologist, Georg Simmel, who he considered to be ‘subtle and ingenious’ (Simmel, 1971: XLIV). Emile Durkheim even served as a mediator in so far as his journal L’ Année Sociologique published various articles written by Simmel. Apart from these links there are many traits in Simmel’s work that resemble those of Durkheim: both share a functionalist point of view; they question what it is that holds society

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together, and what it is that makes society function. Yet, the two sociologists also have their unique and differing perspectives. Whereas Durkheim was more concerned with the macroscopic view of sociology – the large drifts of society, the impact the division of labour had on society as a whole, the significance of differentiation for the civilising process – Simmel favoured a microscopic view on society – i.e. how conflict and different forms of domination serve to structure the interaction of individuals, and how individuality depends on the size of social groups. Georg Simmel (1858–1918) was of the same generation as Durkheim, yet he had far greater difficulties pursuing a career in sociology than did his French colleague. Simmel initially studied history, psychology and history of art in Berlin. After receiving his PhD he became a ‘Privatdozent’ – a lecturer who is allowed to lecture at the university, but who has no economic security. Forced to look for other academic positions, Simmel finally accepted an offer from the University of Strasbourg in France. Like Marx, Georg Simmel had a deep interest in Philosophy at the beginning of his career. His first major study dealt with The Problems of the Philosophy of History. Only later did Simmel integrate his philosophical interests with the newly emerging field of sociology. Together with Max Weber and Ferdinand Tönnies he founded the German Society for Sociology. In addition, Simmel published two studies, which are now considered to be classics within the sociological discipline: The Philosophy of Money and Sociology: Investigations on the Forms of Sociation. While the first study focused solely on the impact that the economical sphere – particularly exchange – had on the other spheres of life, the second study covered a broader spectrum of issues. It is this second study we will now turn to. Sociology consists of various essays which Simmel had written over the years. In these essays Simmel approaches society from different angles: firstly he asks how society is possible; he then investigates and discusses concrete features of society. For our purposes we shall limit ourselves to three dimensions of Simmels’s study: conflict, domination, and group expansion. Simmel’s reflections on conflict are based on the presupposition that ‘relations of conflict do not by themselves produce a social structure’ (1971: 70 –95; quote 77). Thus, through investigating conflict, Simmel’s objective is to study antagonistic, oppositional forces, and how they do not necessarily


(as is often assumed) lead to dissociation, but serve rather as integrative forces. Here the sociologist hints towards the complex features not only of social groups, or entire societies, but individuals as well. The unity which either the group or the individual shows towards the outside world, is not ‘pure’ but rather complex in that it consists of antagonistic forces. The question therefore arises: to what extent does conflict serve the purpose of integration and what degree of conflict will lead to dissociation? To answer this question, Simmel distinguishes between two forms of conflict: one, where the ‘lust for fighting’ (Simmel) prevails and where no compromise can be achieved – resulting in dissociation; the other form consists of conflicts where agreement is possible. This is only tenable when the ‘rules of the game’ are accepted by both sides. Legal conflicts might serve as examples for this second, integrating and civilising aspect of conflict. It is in relation to these civilising forms that Simmel discusses the differences of class struggle past and present. While Marx conceived of class struggle as an inevitable conflict which could only end in the overthrow of the capitalist class, contemporary class struggle at the turn of the century takes on a different, almost civilised form. In the words of Simmel: Since it has been recognised that the condition of labour is determined by the objective conditions and forms of production, irrespective of the desires and capacities of particular individuals, the personal bitterness of both general and local battles has greatly decreased. The entrepreneur is no longer a bloodsucker and damnable egoist, nor does the worker suffer from sinful greediness under all circumstances. Both parties have at least begun no longer to burden each other’s consciences with their mutual demands and tactics as acts of personal meanness. (1971: 88) Here Simmel argues in line with Durkheim in that he sees conflict – at least in its moderate form – as functional to society. However, Simmel differs from Durkheim in that he argues that the progress that has been made can be studied not through observing new forms of solidarity but through the observation of the moderating effects of legal conflict. Yet with Simmel, one could also argue that the civilising aspect can be explained by the different character and notion of domination.

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In a chapter devoted to the subject, Simmel distinguishes between three different forms of domination: subordination under an individual, subordination under a plurality, and subordination under a principle (1971: 96–120). The first form has disadvantages in that the difference between the ruler and the ruled leads to a closed form of society: conflicts are not adequately dealt with or they are simply dealt with on a personal level. The reason for this is that no proper institutional framework exist for dealing with conflicts. Furthermore, at the same time, the cohesion of the ruled is enforced from above. What Simmel hints at is that such a form of domination is naturally limited in scope; a society dominated by one individual is not able to deal with differentiation properly. In fact, it cannot even develop to a differentiated stage. The second form of subordination under a plurality is only slightly better: whereby at least the ruled no longer have to rely on the personal features of their ruler. In this respect this second form has the advantage of being more objective, or in the words of Simmel, it ‘excludes certain feelings, leanings and impulses’ of the individual ruler (1971: 109). Having said this, it is still disadvantageous for the ruled to have to cope with a plurality of rulers and their personal features. In other words, the change that occurs is only quantitative, not qualitative. This alters only with the third, modern form of subordination – that which comes under the umbrella of principles. In modern societies the principle is usually a law, or an entire set of laws. Simmel points out that for the modern individual ‘subordination to a law which functions as the emanation of impersonal, uninfluenceable powers, is the more dignified situation’ (1971: 114). Here, Simmel argues again in a very similar vein to Durkheim. His discussion of ‘subjugation under a principle’ very much resembles his French colleague’s concept of co-operative law in modern society. Even more similarities between the two sociologists come to the forefront when one takes a closer look at the chapter on ‘Group expansion and the development of Individuality’ in Simmel’s Sociology (1971: 251–93). Simmel begins by stating the obvious Durkheimian principle, namely that individuality increases as social groups expand. The author argues further, and again one is reminded of Durkheim’s Division of Labour, that quantitative expansion leads to increasing social differentiation. In Simmel’s words: ‘… more and more people (compete) with more and more specialised means’ (1971: 252). Circles of groups which have not been


in contact before begin to overlap and to blend with each other: ‘… a need and an inclination (arises) to reach out beyond the original spatial, economic, and mental boundaries of the group and, in connection with the increase in individualisation and concomitant mutual repulsion of group elements, to supplement the original centripetal forces of the lone group with a centrifugal tendency that forms bridges with other groups’ (1971: 253). For Simmel, this development results from the differentiation of labour. There are even more parallels to be found between Simmel and Durkheim: concerning the relationship between individuality and differentiation, Simmel’s observations and remarks are almost identical to those of the French sociologist when he states that ‘… the larger circle encourages individual freedom, while the smaller one restricts it’ (1971: 269), or that in larger groups ‘the sense of broader freedom and the responsibility for oneself. … come from a broad and fluid social environment, whereas the smaller group is “narrower”’ (1971: 271) Beyond Durkheim’s theory, Simmel argues that individuality in modern societies is not only more likely to evolve (which would be the quantitative aspect), but that there is also a qualitative dimension to modern individuality: ‘… the single human being distinguishes himself from all others; that his being and conduct – in form, content, or both – suit him alone; and that being different has a positive meaning and value for his life’ (1971: 271). The fact that differences in individual appearances evolve only through differentiation in modern society – this is a formula which is critical for analysing any system of social stratification. Yet, as we shall see, it takes on far greater significance when applied to America’s system of social stratification. Ferdinand Tönnies

General presuppositions and or theoretical affiliations and influences: history and society as a process of social differentiation; Thomas Hobbes, Friedrich Nietzsche, Karl Marx, Charles Darwin. Model/paradigm(s): community and association/society in past and present. Concepts: community (family life, unity, ‘Volk’, communal and rural life, religion and church, household economy, agriculture); society (urban and metropolitan life, shared conventions,

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national life, politics and state, cosmopolitan life, public discourse and ‘republic of intellectuals’, trade and industry, science). Empirical environment(s): Germany.

Emile Durkheim and Georg Simmel were not the only sociologists who discussed the differentiation process leading to modern society. Another German sociologist, Ferdinand Tönnies, must be mentioned here. It is evident from his efforts to conceptualise the differences between community and society that his analysis has striking parallels with Durkheim’s and Simmel’s approach. Ferdinand Tönnies (1855–1936) belonged, as did Weber and Simmel, to the ‘founding generation’ of German sociology. As with Simmel he started with philosophy, and like Weber he had an interest in political economy. Similarly to his two German colleagues he developed an interest in sociology; he became a professor of sociology and was later elected president of the German Sociological Association. Apart from numerous essays, the work which established his reputation and indeed contributed towards the intellectual advancement of sociology was his study Community and Association. As Durkheim, Tönnies recognised a difference between an organic form of social life which he called community, and a mechanical form of social life which he called association (Tönnies, 1955). Prior to entering into a discussion on the differences between the two, Tönnies approaches these two different forms of social life from a phenomenological perspective. Community is, in the first instance, an organisation of social life which is closer to nature and the very roots of natural life. The community is based upon, and stems directly from the family and the ‘natural’ ties of the individuals. All other features stem from this fact: direct communication is the community’s central feature; there is no differentiation of labour, apart from the division of labour that depends on certain natural capacities; there are no links to other social circles apart from the direct neighbourhood and immediate friends; religion only serves the purpose of maintaining and strengthening the bonds of the particular community; and natural law is the only law which applies to the community. A community can develop only to a certain extent – from the core family to the enlarged family, then to the tribe and finally to a ‘Volk’; it can also develop in a spatial sense – from the soil one is working on, to the larger ‘Gau’ or ‘Mark’ to the village, and even


to a smaller city. Yet the community will always be bound to self-sufficiency and sustainment. It would never differentiate itself to such an extent that it would give up its share of property, common consumption or, in economical affairs, equal or just exchange. In short, community is closer to ‘nature’ – hence the label of organic community. It is quite different with society or association. Here everything seems to be based on impersonal relationships and artificial bonds. Tönnies describes its social life as being based on separations: separation from the family, the soil, and close associations. Existence no longer depends on what one produces personally; the development from simple forms of co-operation, to manufactural production, and finally to industrial production led to the separation of labour, and, finally to class formation. Furthermore, it led to competition, unequal and unjust trade, covered by, and legitimated through legal contracts and a system of laws which became the main features of the larger entity called society. In the end Tönnies sums up the differences between community and society in two equations. Community equals family life, unity, ‘Volk’, communal and rural life, non-differentiated urban life, religion, church, household economy, and agriculture. Society equals urban, metropolian life, shared conventions, ‘society per se’, national life, politics, state, cosmopolitan life, public discourse, the republic of intellectuals, trade, industry, and science. To be sure, Tönnies’ summary reflects much of what Durkheim and Simmel said about the differentiation process and modern society, yet while in Durkheim and Simmel the development of the contrast between primitive and modern society is described as a gradual process, in Tönnies, the contrast between the organic and mechanical forms of social life become essentialised and somehow static. Also, it is not by chance that Tönnies lists all the positive aspects under the ‘community-equation’, while all the negative aspects are listed under the ‘association/society-equation’. In Tönnies’ sociology we thus encounter an implicit value judgement which prevents the sociologist from analysing any mixed, communal and societal forms of social life – and surely, analysing mixed, communal and societal forms of social life is of critical importance in studying America’s system of social stratification. Despite the fact that Durkheim, Simmel and Tönnies did not provide their own direct analysis of America’s social structure – it is

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quite clear that American sociologists have recognised the significance and implications of the theoretical work of these three classic sociologists. To an extent, reformulations or reconstructions of American sociological theory have relied upon, and benefited from interpretations of Durkheim, Simmel and Tönnies. Yet practically, it is true to say that – with the exception of a few successful attempts – the concepts stemming from these three European sociologist have only in part been applied to North American conditions. In this respect the work of Karl Marx and Max Weber turns out to be much more fruitful. The following is a brief outline of how the concepts developed by Durkheim, Simmel and Tönnies may be applied in the analysis of America’s system of social stratification. The genuine contribution of Durkheim lies in his breaking of completely new ground which was not covered in Marx or Weber’s approach – namely the question of the relationship between conflict and order. It is one of the distinctive features of American society that with all its potential for social conflict, and with all its change, the political order of American society has never been radically challenged. In that respect the United States is one of the most stable societies in the world. The fact that America’s political system remained so stable owes something to the fact that social change – even in its extreme form – did not lead to revolution, but proceeded within a ‘frame’. This is particularly true when one looks at the differentiation process of American society. It is quite remarkable to observe the development of a society that started out as a colony, became independent and then went on to become the leading power of the world. Its development thus far must in part be attributed to the strength of its internal differentiation. From an economic standpoint, a society dominated by agriculture and trade developed into an industrial society, and from a demographic standpoint, a white, Protestant, and European dominated population developed into a multicultural society. Various factors that Durkheim pointed out in his analysis contributed to the stable order in the US, thus preventing it from slipping into a state of anomie – particularly in regards to religion, voluntary associations and in some case (federal) state intervention. The genuine contribution of Simmel’s sociology is to be found in a slightly different field, that of the civilising aspects of conflict. As has briefly been pointed out, American society witnessed substantial change. Apart from the Civil War – which was during the early stage


of the differentiation process and could therefore contribute positively to the formation process of the Union – American society dealt with conflict in a way that prevented unresolvable conflict from occurring. This was only possible due to the particular method of dealing with conflict – a form that goes back to the very roots and origins of American society. The Founding Fathers of the American Constitution were quite conscious of the fact that conflict was not necessarily a negative thing. In order to maintain stability, but also in an attempt to cope with change, they positioned conflict as an integral part of the Constitution. Thus, by seeing conflict as critical to social life, they succeeded in providing a more positive and civilised form for the element of conflict. Much the same can be said for the integrating aspects of differences between individuals and social groups in America – another aspects described and discussed only in a European context by Simmel. Tönnies’ contribution in analysing American society is of a very different nature. It consisted of highlighting the relationship between communal and societal/associational forms of social life. Yet Tönnies contribution will only be of value if interpreted in a different way – one which does not essentialise community and society. One must analyse precisely the inter-relatedness of community and society in order to understand the peculiar relationship between order and social change in American society. Attempts to conceptualise American society using concepts that did not originate in America, but rather in Europe, would only be beneficial and applicable if one has an understanding of the exceptional features of American society. However, in this respect, it is deeply ironic that it was again a European intellectual who first attempted to conceptualise the peculiarities of North American society: Alexis de Tocqueville.

5 Alexis de Tocqueville’s Political Sociology

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: a new democratic science: political science; Voltaire, Montesquieu, Buffon, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, French law tradition, John Stuart Mill. Model/paradigm(s): USA (particularly New England). Concepts: democracy (belief in the principle of the ‘sovereignty of the people’ and the creation of institutions which help to enforce the rights of equal citizens); civil society ‘acting by and for itself’ (mainly through voluntary associations and organisations). Empirical environment(s): USA, France, United Kingdom, Switzerland.

In the preceeding chapters Marx has been described as a critic of political economy, Weber as a political economist, and Durkheim, Simmel and Tönnies as ‘real’ sociologists by profession – regardless, all made a contribution to the formation of classic sociological concepts. For reasons that revolve around the continuing separation of labour in the social sciences, and as a consequence, the split into the different disciplines of sociology and political sciences, the work of the more politically oriented Alexis de Tocqueville (1805–59) is usually not considered to have made an important contribution to the formation of classical sociological concepts. To be sure, there may well have been reasons for not incorporating Tocqueville’s work into sociology; yet these reasons should be questioned and it should be argued that any serious attempt to conceptualise America’s system of social stratification must take his work into account. 50

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As Tocqueville himself declares in the introduction to his study Democracy in America, new political conditions require a new political science (Tocqueville, 1994: 12). In stating this, he is referring to the events of the French and the American Revolutions. Disappointed by the results of the French Revolution, its bloodshed, violence and terror, its further centralisation and increased importance of state, Tocqueville’s attention was drawn to the United States – the only other new society which was to emerge almost simultaneously from the enlightenment tradition and which also experienced a revolution – yet one with the distinction of having avoided the pitfalls of its Continental European counterpart. In his analysis of America, Tocqueville did not only draw a comparison to France, but Switzerland and England’s political and social systems were also taken into account. Only through comparison with other states and societies, past and present, the observer becomes aware of the exceptionalist character of America. In taking a closer look at Democracy in America and its exceptionalist conditions, one must also continually bear in mind Tocqueville’s own historical perspective: Tocqueville was witness to the America prior to the Civil War and there encountered a society which was still mainly based on agriculture and trade. He saw a democracy at work before the workings of capitalism and democracy became increasingly entwined and dependent upon each other. Analysing American democracy prior to the triumph of capitalism serves to illustrate the metamorphosis and changes within American society. In other words: by comparing the present situation with an historical one, the critical observer can formulate an impression of precisely how America’s system of social stratification changed and how this change occured under exceptionalist conditions. Following these introductiory remarks let us proceed to the actual text of Democracy in America. Tocqueville begins his analysis by taking a closer look at the conditions at the time of the first settlers. He notes that initially the emigrants had numerous things in common. Not only did the emigrants bring the English language to the new continent, but they brought their customs and laws as well. The notion of the ‘freedom of an Englishman’ was integral to their European inheritance. They also brought with them their religion. The belief system was one of Protestant origin, yet somehow more radical in terms of its structure and content – which was in fact one

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of the reasons for their emigration in the first place. As radical Protestant dissenters (more often than not, Puritans with Calvinist roots) these early settlers had been in conflict with the Church of England over their rights to exercise and practice their religion. They emigrated to America to practice freely their religion, and to establish their ‘New Jerusalem’ (1994: 31– 49). The settlers were what we would define today as ‘middle class’ in origin, usually well educated and well read (1994: 35–6). Only later on would they be joined by the poor and hungry of other European countries. What all of these immigrants had in common was their repudiation of the notion of superiority. They were striving for freedom and equality – politically and economically. Yet even within this quest, two main opposing forms of settlement or ‘approaches’ can be identified in America: firstly, the ‘Virginian’ approach to the South, consisting of an non-working ‘aristocracy’ which drew its wealth not from their own work, but from the forced labour of slavery and secondly, the ‘North-Eastern’ or New England-approach, which consisted of the ‘better elements’ of immigrants, i.e. the welleducated Puritans and their descendants (1994: 34 –5). As has been pointed out previously, these early emigrants had learned their lesson: they rejected a society which was not based on honest labour, but rather on inherited ‘blue blood’; they also placed great value in their new-found religious freedom; and benefited from some previous political experience, stemming from the communal rights and local sovereignty guaranteed through English common law. Thus, through their former political and religious experience, they came to value both political order and morality. It was only through the exceptional circumstances in the New World that the ‘spirit of religion’, the ‘spirit of freedom’, the ‘moral world’ and the ‘world of politics’ could successfully be integrated. These concepts, particularly in their French context, Tocqueville considered to be mutually exclusive. The various aspects Tocqueville discussed thus far i.e. the attitude towards work, the Protestant work ethic, the emphasis on education, the political inclination towards freedom and equality, the fact that America knew no feudal bonds in effect served as mutual inforcement, thereby creating the new distinct society of New England. To be sure, some of these aspects also featured prominently in the works of Marx and Weber, but nowhere in their works do the peculiar American circumstances become as clear as in the


work of Tocqueville. In particular it was the attribute ‘democratic’ that allowed Tocqueville to analyse the exceptional character of American society; and it is this aspect that we shall now focus on. What does Tocqueville actually mean when he uses the term ‘democratic’? For the reader it means first of all an adherence to the guiding principle of the ‘sovereignty of the people’ (1994: 50 –60). Needless to say, other societies were guided by this same principle, but for Tocqueville it was exclusively in America and in particular in New England that this principle was not obscured, but rather became ‘the law of laws’, born out of the practice of the townships. The ‘township meetings’ in a way resembled the Greeks’ gatherings in the market place. It was here that most of the decisions that affected the townspeople were discussed and decided upon democratically. It was in the townships of New England that ‘society acted by and for itself’ (1994: 60). Tocqueville stresses that democratic government and voluntary organisations were responsible for the development of civil society – a civil society which existed before the republic was founded and before the unique American model of federalism was introduced. Within this federal structure the principle of subsidiarity applied: the first level could take immediate action, and if a problem was unresolvable on that level, the next level would then be considered: thus the township preceded district or county, district and county preceded state, and the state preceded the Union. Organised in such a way, federalism did not destroy civil society and voluntary organisations, but served to give it a political frame within which to operate. The power of democracy therefore, did not necessarily increase but rather extended its domain (1994: 239). Tocqueville was aware of the fact, that in order to talk about the ‘sovereignty of the people’ all citizens must be viewed as being equal, yet they could only be equal ‘… if equality prevails in the political sphere’, which meant that ‘… rights must be given either to every citizen or to nobody’ (1994: 56). Additionally rights must be exercised in order to keep the public spirit alive. One has to bear in mind though, that the social circumstances in New England were particularly receptive to the idea of political equality and participation: as has been stressed earlier, most of the settlers were of middleclass origin and well educated; coming from Europe, and historically restricted in their practice of religion, and generally speaking with some experience of local government in England. Yet in this last

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instance it was not the social conditions they encountered upon their arrival, but rather the political practice that helped to minimise extreme forms of social stratification and to control the effects of social inequality. In other words: exercising political democracy was the major force in limiting social inequality. This fact should not be neglected in any sociological attempt to analyse America’s system of social stratification – past or present. Compared to Marx’s analysis, Tocqueville’s genuine contribution to the formation of classical sociological concepts lies in the emphasis he places on democracy. Following from that, an attempt must be made to link the ‘democratic question’ to the other concepts which have been introduced up to this point. It has already been stressed that Tocqueville wrote about a North America that was familiar with trade and sophisticated methods of agricultural production, but not full blown industrial capitalism. Thus Tocqueville saw less inequality than in Europe: compared to a class system based on inheritance of wealth and poverty, where the political conditions responded to the social conditions, New England’s society looked more promising. Although not free of social inequality, the gap between rich and poor was certainly not as wide as it was in Europe. The notion that class did not play a role in America certainly stems from that earlier period, and, as has been noted before, was primarily due to the practice of political democracy. The very fact that at the end of the 20th century the United States has become a society which in terms of extreme forms of social inequality is unparalleled by other Western democracies, indicates that American society has changed almost beyond recognition. Thus, Tocqueville’s description of early America as a basically non-stratified society serves as an important reference point. In particular his reasoning that the practice of political democracy minimised social inequality rests as an important indicator in the further analysis of America’s system of social stratification in the 20th century. Democracy in America should not only serve as a reference point for analysing class. If we were to compare that which Weber had to say about bureaucracy with Tocqueville’s New England – Weber’s notion of bureaucracy was influenced by and stemmed directly from the observations made during his visit to the US – it quickly becomes clear just how different the American political system has


become. While the township remained the most important political community – the inner core upon which American democracy rested – the situation was evidently completely different at the time Weber visited the States, a time when big city ‘machine politics’, and with it parties and charismatic leadership dominated political life. At this later stage ‘administrative politics’ seemed to have replaced more direct forms of democratic decision-making of the early republic. Yet another concept stemming from Tocqueville’s American experiences – that of the Protestant work ethic – continues, at least at first sight, to confirm Weber’s observations on the political benefits of religious organisation. At the time Weber visited the US, it was clear that religion and experience of the religious community was the precondition for participation in political life. Yet as obvious as it may at first seem, it is also clear – and Weber was emphatic about this – that joining a religious, mainly Protestant community allowed one to establish crucial contacts, contacts which could be used for the purposes of pursuing one’s own business interests. For Weber the Protestant spirit served the capitalist spirit – not the democratic purpose, that Tocqueville promotes. Again, as with class and bureaucracy, Tocqueville’s analysis of New England serves as a crucial reference point in terms of how the early republic functioned in its inception. This analysis in point provides the basis for comparison and analysis vis-à-vis the changing form of America’s social stratification. Out of all the sociological classics it is remarkably the work of Emile Durkheim and Georg Simmel that most closely resembles Alexis de Tocqueville’s analysis of American society. Durkheim asks – as indeed does Tocqueville – ‘What is it that holds and binds society together?’ and ‘What is the cement of society?’. As with Tocqueville, Durkheim argues that the binding factor is voluntary organisations mediating between individuals and society at large. It is precisely these voluntary organisation that contribute to the considerable stability of American society – even when facing major conflicts. It is exactly through these voluntary associations that tensions are minimised and conflicts acknowledged, and often overcome. Parallels with Tocqueville’s analysis are also evident when one considers Durkheim’s concept of primitive and modern society, mechanical and organic solidarity. It might be going too far to define New England as primitive society in the Durkheimian sense, yet

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Durkheim’s description of mechanical solidarity fits well with the description of the early stages of the republic: individual expressions were still determined by one’s small community; religion still had a major impact in that it served as a guideline for the social life of the community; and, although there was some division of labour, this division was still limited in scope. The concept of organic solidarity could also be used to describe modern American society – particularly when one refers to the division of labour. American society in the 20th and 21st century would be unthinkable without the differentiation of tasks and the corresponding development of a form of solidarity that binds American citizens together – while at the same time even encouraging extreme forms of individuality. Of course the differentiation of tasks is only possible in an open democratic society; a stricter form of organisation would not be able to deal with conflict effectively; it would lead to crisis and anomie. In order to resolve conflict one must also consider the element of choice, because it is through choice i.e. the possibility to opt for, and do something else, that the potential danger of unreconcilable conflict can potentially be resolved. Of course the factor of choice increases with group size – a sociological fact that was first acknowledged by Georg Simmel. It is again Tocqueville’s work that provides a point of reference. In the days of the early republic one had to follow strict rules and there was little choice; had this not been the case, the early settlements would have faced unresolvable conflicts threatening the whole community. It is only later, with increasing group size, that individuals became less bound by social ties, moral rules and regulations. Only in the progression from community to society – as we are reminded by Ferdinand Tönnies – could individuality and choice evolve – thereby restricting conflict and creating a more stable society. Yet in its development, America differs considerably from other Western societies: although it is true to say that the development of the United States may be seen as one which progressed from the community (‘communities’ would be the more appropriate term to describe New England) to society, but furthermore it is a peculiar North American feature that this was only possible, due to the fact that communities were not replaced by society. Thus American society stands out as different, because it is based on and draws its strength from the communities that exist in parallel to society and form an essential part of it.


As we have seen, almost every aspect of the development of American society is linked to the ‘democratic question’ that Tocqueville first raised; thus each serious analysis of America’s system of social stratification in the 20th century must give credit to such pioneering work – and take into account particularly the changing nature of democratic patterns in the US.

6 In Dispraise of Economics: Thorstein Veblen

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and infuences: American Pragmatism (Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, John Dewey), Social Darwinism (Herbert Spencer, W.G. Sumner), Karl Marx. Model/ paradigm(s): economic institutions in modern society. Concepts: state of the arts (craftmanship, handicraft, captains of industry, absentee ownership, captains of solvency), separation between commerce and production, agriculture and industry (‘independent farmer’, ‘country town’, ‘pioneering spirit’); pecuniary culture (conspicuous consumption, leisure class). Empirical environment(s): USA (the Gilded Age, c. 1870 –1900).

Thorstein Veblen (1857–1929) was the son of Norwegian immigrants with strong Protestant roots and stern moral convictions. Having been raised on a farm in the Midwestern countryside, one can only speculate what it must have meant to him to ‘make it’ from rural America into some of the most prestigious institutions of American higher education. Veblen first attended Johns Hopkins University where he was lectured by the philosopher Charles Peirce. It was in these seminars and lectures that Veblen was first introduced to American pragmatist ideas – not only those of Peirce but also of other pragmatist philosophers such as William James and John Dewey. This introduction had a lasting impact, resulting in a highly critical attitude particularly towards traditional economical interpretations and explanations of the social world. At Yale University 58

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Veblen gained a PhD in philosophy, and under the tutilage of William Sumner, a subsriber to the evolutionary views of the British sociologist Herbert Spencer, studied economics. It was no doubt the mix of these intellectual influences, his impoverished upbringing set against his encounter with wealthy college students, that later gave rise to his somewhat resentful criticism of and disrespect for the privileged wealthy classes. This background also serves to provide some insight into how and why Veblen became a social and intellectual outsider. Despite being financially and socially disadvantaged, Veblen nevertheless persevered and finally managed to secure a fellowship at Cornell University followed by a teaching fellowship at the University of Chicago where he stayed until offered a university position at the University of Missouri. Later he would take on academic positions at the New School of Social Research in New York and at Stanford University in California. Veblen was also held in high standing with renowned economic journals. And yet, despite becoming a well-known academic, he always remained the outsider. If one were to take a closer look at the relationship between the man and his work, C. Wright Mills’ description of Thorstein Veblen as ‘a muckraker in the social sciences’ remains highly appropriate. Thorstein Veblen’s main work covered a variety of areas and touched on an array of topics; but from his collected writings, a trilogy consisting of The Theory of the Leisure Class, The Instinct of Workmanship and Absentee Ownership and Business Enterprise in Recent Times – the Case of America is outstanding. In that which follows, not every aspect of this trilogy will be discussed; the focus will be rather on what Veblen had to say about America’s system of social stratification – in particular its social origins and its history. In discussing Veblen’s work, the interpreter must bear two particular aspects in mind: first, Veblen’s intellectual background and, secondly, the time in which Veblen was writing. In discussing the former, it is clear that his background was heavily influenced by the American pragmatists – a tradition which was less concerned with the big philosophical questions but rather one which sought concrete answers to concrete questions. It must also be taken into account that there was a strong moral impetus behind many of the more scientific stances of American Pragmatism. Additionally, the influence of William Sumner was particularly significant in so far as Veblen was introduced to the evolutionary concept of man – a

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concept which found no goal in history but rather ‘a scheme of blindly cumulative causation’ (Max Lerner). Veblen did not by any means subsribe to all of Sumner’s notions, but through Sumner, Herbert Spencer’s ideas took on a form which was to be important and influential in Veblen’s work, whilst at the same time he was able to dismiss the crude language of a pure Social Darwinist perspective. The second influential factor was the era within which Veblen was writing: the Gilded Age – a time of rapid economic and social change in the United States. These were the decades after the Civil War where one could observe an enormous increase in industrial production – and in accordance with this development, a rapid polarisation within society. This, after all, was the time of the ‘robber barons’ and unregulated markets, a state of society where only the fittest would prevail. To be more precise: Veblen lived in a time during which America became a truly capitalist society, an America which – in the words of Karl Marx – had reached the end of the phase of its ‘primitive accumulation’. In this context one must mention that America, up until the Civil War had been predominantly a rural society. It was the Civil War and the decades that followed which brought radical change. They were the ‘midwives’ – so to speak – that helped give birth to capitalism in America. In Theory of the Leisure Class, the first part of the trilogy on American society, Veblen introduces his general theoretical presuppositions. In Veblen’s view, it is social institutions that bind humans together and that serve as the ‘cement’ that makes societal life possible (Veblen, 1953: 21–33). Furthermore, it is the state that institutions are in, which is an indicator of the development of a social character which helps individuals assimilate their natural environment. To be sure, when Veblen speaks of adaptation to an environment, he refers to selection: either human beings – through institutions – become fit enough to survive, or they do not – in such a case implying that regression and barbarism would necessarily follow. Whether society at any given time, is truly in a position to cope with its environment, becomes particularly relevant when one examines its economic institutions. It is evident that Veblen’s thinking echoes much of what Marx said. Veblen and Marx strove to define the laws that structure and govern society. In their attempt to do so, both discovered the materialistic ‘laws’ of the economy and it should not therefore come as a surprise

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that both thinkers respected Darwin’s theory on the selection process in the natural world. But this is also where the comparisons stop. Whilst Marx could foresee an end to class conflict, Veblen was less optimistic. Veblen remains closer to Sumner and Spencer in maintaining that there is no final stage in the evolutionary process – and this necessarily follows through when applied to the further development of social and economic institutions. Veblen differs from Marx in this respect, yet in regards to the aspect of evolutionary development, Veblen strikes a remarkable parallel with another thinker of the classic sociological tradition – Emile Durkheim. Although Veblen does not use Durheim’s term ‘anomie’, in essence, he refers to the same phenomenon of a state of emergency or maladaption that the French sociologist had analysed. What Veblen observed in America (and the parallels that Durkheim concomitantly observed in France), is that economic institutions were in deep crisis. The reason for this crisis was the division of labour – a phenomenon which again was also investigated by Durkheim. Thus, when Veblen speaks of a development resulting from the division of labour going wrong, one must question exactly what he means by this. In contrast to Durkheim, Veblen refers to the split in terms of a separation between commerce and production. According to his argument, American economic institutions consist of two different entities: a financial sector and an industrial sector; one which is the seat of administration where paper is being shifted around, and the other where the ‘real work’ is being done, a realm where craftsmanship and the knowledge of direct production are essential (1953: 33–60). The two sectors should not be regarded as equals: the commercial side, where the homo oeconomicus prevails, is much more powerful than that of the sphere of immediate production. Historically though, the former is only an artificial extension of the latter and gained power only through the division of labour. Hence, the industrial sector’s view of the financial side with its ‘coupon clippers’ which produces nothing of value – as well as its views of businessmen as vampire-like creatures forming a leisure class which employs and exploits craftsmanship and the industrial arts, but which is in essence useless. It is this leisure class, having no interest in labour or workmanship, that prevents the social and economic institutions from developing and adapting to the latest stage in the evolutionary process (1953: 164 –82).

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In The Instinct of Workmanship, the second part of the trilogy, Veblen elaborates on this exact theme. Again Veblen echoes Durkheim’s distinction between primitive and modern societies, when he states that primitive technology, the savage state and predatory culture belong to the past, and that in modern times society’s social differentiation leads to highly sohisticated forms of the division of labour (Veblen, 1990: 38–186). Yet Veblen is sharper in criticising this functional differentiation than Durkheim is: for Veblen the split into workmen, labourers, operatives, technologists and owners, investors, masters, employers, undertakers, and businessmen has disastrous results (1990: 188ff). Both sectors necessarily have an interest in pecuniary matters – yet both for very different reasons. In the words of Veblen: ‘(I)t is in pecuniary terms that the livelihood comes to (the workmen) for which they are set to work’ (1990: 193) and while the businessmen have an interest in pecuniary gain, they give nothing back that benefits craftsmanship or the state of the arts. It would appear then that one side is the giving side, the other side is the receiving side – yet there is no return. The gain or profit will be spent through conspicuous consumption by a leisured class, yet nothing will flow back to the source of the wealth – labour power, or in the words of Veblen: craftmanship. Once established, the modern form of ownership leads to a competitive system in which pecuniary transactions are the only actions considered to create value. A situation has been reached in which the entrepreneur is been dragged into a system of witholding profits that should be returned to the community. A system is thus created whereby ‘… the material fortunes of the community have come to depend on these pecuniary negotiations into which its “captains of industry” enter for their own gain. In the sense that no other line of activity stands in anything like an equally decisive relation of initiative or discretion to the industrial process, or bears with a like weight on the material welfare of the community, these business negotiations in ownership are unquestionably the prime factor in modern industry’ (1990: 208f). Veblen sees the cause of this in ‘… the peculiar current state of the industrial arts; and the former of these peculiar circumstances is conditioned by the latter’ (1990: 209). Veblen repeatedly emphasises the crucial importance of the state of the arts, i.e. handicraft or craftsmanship. For him, handicraft is a symbol of modernity; indeed modern technology could only develop due to

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the fact that it grew out of handicraft. At the same time – through the differentiation of labour – it helped to give birth to its own destroyer: pecuniary culture. Veblen again reflects the ideas of Marx – particularly in his distinction between dead labour and living labour, when he describes the metamorphosis of human ‘living’ labour power into ‘dead’ industrial technology – the very essence of creating capital. Veblen also mirrors Marx in observing and criticising the exploitation between the value-creating labour power and the surplus appropriation through the entrepreneur – thereby creating and reproducing an unequal relationship of two opposed classes. Veblen recognises the differentiation of labour and exploitation as interactive: Presently, as the technological situation gradually changed its character through extensions and specialisation in appliances and processes … the handicraft system with its petty trade outgrew itself and broke down in a new phase of the pecuniary culture. The increasingly wide differentiation between workmanship and salesmanship grew into a ‘division of labour’ between industry and business, between industrial and pecuniary occupations, – a disjunction of ownership and its peculiar cares, privileges and proficiency from workmanship. By this division of labour, or divergence of function, a fraction of the community came to specialise in ownership and pecuniary traffic, and so came to constitute a business community occupied with pecuniary affairs, running along beside the industrial community proper, with a development of practices and usages peculiar to its own needs and bearing only indirectly on the further development of the industrial system or on the state of the industrial arts. (1990: 213) Veblen is not simply reproducing Marx’s thought. He advances the thought by attempting to synthesise Marx and Durkheim through discussing functional and differentiational aspects of the division of labour and how they relate to the split into workers and exploiters, labourers and capitalists. Veblen is particularly concerned about the consequences of such a division of labour. Again, he refers indirectly to Marx’ analysis of labour as a commodity when he warns of a state where ‘workmanship … comes to be rated in terms of salesmanship’ (1990: 217) and where the captains of industry take out more from

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the community than they give back. Finally Veblen aims to provide a comprehensive description of the state society is in. For him, the following criteria are essential for the modern system: the existence of a competitive system where rivalry prevails; a price system where money is the prime medium determining who wins in the competition, the existence of predominantly technological advanced industries; the existence of high levels of consumption with the market playing the major role within them; the existence of large scale industries based on large scale material supplies; the material infrastructure must be privately owned; the knowledge and skills are delivered by trained workmen; and finally the owners of the infrastructure and equipment determine how these skills are being used in order to generate profit. Together these conditions eventually lead to a hegemony of a few private owners of the infrastructure (as opposed to the many which can only sell their capacity to labour, i. e. the rest of the community) (1990: 218–20). The question which now arises, after having described the existence of the new system, is to outline more precisely the evolution of this situation. It is simply not sufficient to refer only to general notions of the division of labour or to functional differentiation. One must question precisely how salesmanship and business enterprise contribute to the creation of a pecuniary culture. In the third part of his trilogy on America’s system of social stratification, entitled Absentee Ownership and Business Enterprise in Recent Times – the Case of America, Veblen becomes even more concrete in his thinking. He describes the historical and social circumstances which paved the way to modern pecuniary culture in America. Veblen begins by looking at the preconditions of such a development. He attributes the origins of the path to modernity to England, where the machine industry and the principles of natural rights helped to create the competitive system which prevailed until the end of the 19th century. Yet this development was limited in that the pecuniary culture was not fully developed and not every aspect of production was an integral part of the desire to make more money and to secure a profit. Veblen recognises that is impossible to determine exactly when free competition came to an end, but he speculates that a radical change came about around the middle of the 19th century (Veblen, 1964: 82). These developments had particular impact and significance in the United States.

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According to Veblen, the radical change in America was initiated by a shift at the top: key industries were no longer competing freely on the market but became subjugated through the rise of salesmenship and the rise of corporations. Both had an interest in production; but it was different in that it was a production for the pure sake of production. Every aspect of the production process became part of the motive to make more money and profit. In short, production became part of what Veblen has called pecuniary culture. One must ask why this new development is particularly relevant. According to Veblen, it is the form of absentee ownership and with it the metamorphosis of the captain of industry which were critical in this respect (1964: 82–118). With the term absentee ownership Veblen refers to the latest developments within business and corporations. The old-style entrepreneur who still had a jobbing knowledge and represented the industrial use of the machine process no longer existed. The days when the captain of industry was seen as a social character and an institution of civilised life who influenced law and custom belonged to the past. Where the early captain of industry reflected aspects of the captain of workmanship and the business man in one person, a radical change came about through the development of both the production and the finance sector. A split occurred: on one side there was now the technician in the industrial sector, developing into the engineer and the industrial expert; on the other side there was the development of office business managers, and later the corporation, the joint-stock company and the absentee owner. What could be observed, in other words, was a shift from the captain of industry to the captain of solvency (Veblen, 1964: 326–97). This change had disastrous social consequences – unemployment being the most crucial. It seemed logical: when the only motive is generating profit, laying off workers is quite justified as labour power is simply regarded as another commodity. The captains of solvency did not care about the well-being of their workforce or the community at large, they cared about making money. But how could such a different attitude have become acceptable? How could a minority act against a majority? According to Veblen there is a simple explanation: The earlier captain of industry was de facto a benefactor to the community; he was also an entrepeneur who was still actively involved in the production process and who

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would therefore continue to hold craftmanship in high esteem. Thus he became a secularised messiah who delivered not only the material goods but who also was accepted personally as someone who cared about the community and its workers. The captain of solvency was acknowledged as his successor and in general people held onto some blind faith in his intentions. Yet, as we know, the role of the successor had changed dramatically: where the captain of industry had had an interest in the state of the industrial arts and the well-being of the workers and the community at large, the captain of solvency had only one interest: generating profit. Yet Veblen does not conclude here. He goes on to examine and explain some of the American peculiarities that contributed to the development outlined thus far. To understand the development in the United States, one has to take a closer look at the transition from a predominantly agricultural society to a system where absentee ownership prevailed and became dominant. Veblen looks at two particular institutions in order to describe this transition: the independent farmer and the country town. In a way, the independent farmer may also be seen an absentee owner in that he owns more land than he himself is able to cultivate (1964: 129– 41). As Veblen remarks, farming is team work; it is work where one has to rely on helping hands, since no man is in a position to work all the propertied land himself. Yet the independent farmer also works for the market – a market he is not in a position to control – unlike the real absentee owners. The American independent farmer and – one might add – the farm population at large were also quite unique in that they still held on to values of the past: individual self-help and self-reliance, hard work, in short: the pioneering spirit. This pioneering spirit certainly helped to cultivate the huge masses of land in America and – as Veblen rightly observes – is the most impressive material achievement of the American people; yet – as the critical observer will also note – under modern conditions this same spirit became an ideology. According to Veblen, the farmers ‘… still stand sturdily by the timeworn make-believe that they still are individually self-sufficient masterless men’ – and this under radically altered conditions where ‘...they have, in the economic respect – and incidentally in the civil and political respect – fallen under the dominion of those massive business interests that move obscurely in the background of the market

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and buy and sell and dispose of the farm products and the farmers’ votes and opinions very much on their own terms and at their ease’ (1964: 133). Veblen is justified in stressing that with the closing of the frontier, the pioneering spirit no longer had practical use. Yet he also realises that ‘… while the pioneer-farmer is dropping out of the work of husbandry, his pioneer soul goes marching on’ (1964: 135). One of the reasons for this strange survival is – as Veblen emphasises repeatedly – real estate. If there was one thing in the past that the pioneering farmer strove for, it was to acquire as much land as possible. The land served as a kind of cashable insurance: one might not be in a position to work the land and cultivate it, but it held prospective value – a free income in the future when sold on. Yet, to keep this land, money was needed: it cost money to upkeep the land so that at a later point it could be transferred or cashed in (hence the exhausting maintenance work on American farms – another American peculiarity). In order to make a living then, the farmer relied on the country town (1964: 142–65). As Veblen explains, ‘(t)here has always been an easy shifting from country to town, and this steady drift into the towns of the great farming sections has in the main been a drift from work into business’ (1964: 140). Business here means dealing with real estate. As explained, the farmer has an interest in potentially selling the land he has acquired and which he has maintained but has not necessarily worked upon. At the same time, the townsman has an interest in buying this land to put it to future use. And yet, the selling of land was not the only factor which linked the farmers to the country town. For the great farming regions of America the country town was the hub of all business – including the selling agricultural of produce, buying farming tools and supplies, etc. In short: the country town was essentially the place for trade. And as Veblen has stressed, the country town held the monopoly in trade – particularly retail trade. During the 19th century trade came of age, and through this development yet another shift occurred whereby trade outgrew its original birthplace of the American country town. Where once the traders relied heavily on personal qualities and their knowledge of the farm (since they were mostly farmers), now the more anonymous market and with it, men without such integrity and big business took over. This change did not mean the demise of the country

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town, but it indicated a radical metamorphosis where everything became subject to market forces – market forces which were not controlled by interests seated in the country town or on the farm, but rather were representative of big business operating nation-wide, chaired and directed by the captains of solvency. What remains astonishing and what has been stressed by Veblen again and again, is that although circumstances radically altered, the ideology did not. The country town still held its ranking as a conservative bastion. As Veblen explains, this is so, because ‘… the country-town code of morality at large as well as its code of business ethics, is quite sharp, meticulous; but solvency always has a sedative value in these premises, at large and in personal detail. And then, too, solvency not only puts a man in the way of acquiring merit, but it makes him over into a substantial citizen whose opinions and preferences have weight and who is therefore enabled to do much good for his fellow citizens – that is to say, shape them somewhat to his own pattern’ (1964: 158). This transformation of social into ideological and political power very much resembles the patterns of certain religious predecessors. As Veblen stresses: ‘To create mankind in one’s own image is a work that partakes of the divine’ (ibid.). On first sight, business, salesmanship and solvency seem to be very secularised affairs. But this is the case only on the surface. Even if it should be true that the two habits of thought were derived from different circumstances – i.e. the Christian values of non-resistance and humility stemming from the very beginnings of Christendom; and the notions of individual rights and liberty from much later in history – the two supposedly opposing camps worked together quite well in the earlier phases of capitalism when craftsmanship and early industry relied on Protestant and Christian values such as individual salvation and individual ascetiscism. Up until this point, Veblen is very much in accordance with Max Weber. Yet Veblen also differs from Weber in that he maintains that the last word on this relationship has not been spoken. It might well be that older Christian values may come into contradiction with the current state of capitalism. A conflict between means and ends may arise: it is pretty hard to love ‘thy neighbour’ as an end in itself when you also see him as a means to generate and extract more profit. It should have become clear by now that it was Veblen who should be recognised as the first synthesiser of classic sociological

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concepts. As Marx, Veblen stresses the importance of evolutionary and processual aspects in the development of capitalism. Yet he differs from Marx in that he cannot imagine a ‘final stage’, or an end of conflict or history. Like Marx he also appreciated that capitalism could originate in the countryside – through dealing with land and real estate. Thus capitalist origins and capitalist development were obviously not solely confined to an urban environment. In his view of everlasting differentiation with its functional division of labour Veblen is closer to Durkheim; and concerning the role of religion he is closer to Weber’s thesis on the origins of capitalism. This is even more intriguing since Veblen had no knowledge of either Durkheim or Weber. But what made Veblen unique, is not only the fact that he was a great synthesiser of idens first found expression in the classical sociological thought of Marx, Durkheim and Weber, but that he was also the first sociologist to fully apply these concepts to American society. It is thus justified to speak of Veblen not only as a synthesiser of classical thought but also of being the first sociologist to succeed Alexis de Tocqueville in analysing the peculiarities of American society.

7 The City and Human Ecology: the Urban Sociology of the Chicago School (Robert Park and William Burgess)

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and infuences: human ecology, American Pragmatism (Charles Sanders Peirce, William James, John Dewey), Social Darwinism (Herbert Spencer, G. W. Sumner), Georg Simmel, Ferdinand Tönnies. Model/paradigm(s): the modern American urban environment. Concepts: adaption, selection and competition, differentiation, equilibrium; social organisation, spatial separation, specialisation, occupational zones, segregation, pathological forms (‘moral regions’); complexity, adjustment, control and order. Empirical enviroment(s): Chicago (c. 1890 –1925).

Thorstein Veblen was the first sociologist to systematically address the problems of social change and social stratification in America. In his studies he paid particular attention to the transformation of the countryside and specifically the role land and real estate played in the development of capitalism in America. It was through the formation of the ‘Chicago School’, a group made up entirely of faculty from the sociology department of the University of Chicago, that the developments and changes occurring in the American city and its urban environment were first addressed, investigated and systematically conceptualised. The sociology department of the University of Chicago, founded by Albion Small in 1892, was the first of its kind in the United States. The early Chicago department is known for its pioneering 70

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studies such as W. I. Thomas and Florian Znaniecki’s The Polish Peasant in Europe and America. The faculty member who is noted as having made the most significant contribution during the 1920s and 1930s was Robert E. Park (1864 –1944). It was Park, together with his colleague Ernest W. Burgess (1896–1966), who published the first sociology textbook, entitled An Introduction to the Science of Sociology; and it was also Park who was the first to study and draw sociologists’ attention to the impact that internal (African–American) and external (immigrants from Europe and Russia) migration had on the city. Having worked for Chicago newspapers, Park was able to bring a strong local flavour to the sociology department. The attribute of ‘local’, however, does not mean that the Chicago School became provincial. Quite the opposite is true; in Park and the scholars collaborating with him, various national and international influences were combined in one sociological effort. American Pragmatists such as John Dewey and William James contributed to these influences and developments through their emphasis on democratic ideas and public life, through their study of habits of thought and the promotion of progressive and democratic education. The influence of classic sociological thought (particularly that of Georg Simmel and Ferdinand Tönnies), and the unique interpretation of Darwinian thought as mediated and made popular through such thinkers as Herbert Spencer and William Sumner gradually merged and found their expression in the synthesis of ‘human ecology’ as introduced by the Chicago School. The precise meaning of human ecology and how it could be applied to the conditions of an urban environment is best explained in a collection of essays entitled The City, written and edited as a combined effort by Robert E. Park, Ernest W. Burgess and Roderick D. McKenzie. The City when published, instantly gained recognition as a pioneering study and which has since been acknowledged as a modern classic in urban sociology. The most enlightening introduction to the presuppositions of the human ecology approach is to be found in Roderick D. McKenzie’s contribution to the The City, entitled ‘The Ecological Approach to the Study of the Human Community’ (Park et al., 1920: 63–79). McKenzie begins by defining human ecology as: a study of the spatial and temporal relations of human beings as affected by the selective, distributive, and accommodative forces

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of the environment. Human ecology is fundamentally interested in the effect of position in both time and space, upon human institutions and human behaviour. ‘Society is made up of human individuals spatially separated, territorially distributed and capable of independent locomotion’ (Robert E. Park). These spatial relationships of human beings are the products of competition and selection, and are continuously in process of change as new factors enter to disturb the competitive relations or to facilitate mobility. (1920: 63) No doubt, this definition takes its lead from Darwin, Spencer and Sumner when referring to processes of selection and competition. Yet it must also be said that this definition of human ecology and human community differs from a pure natural ecological perspective in that human beings are being seen as also having the capacity to create an environment according to their needs. In the words of McKenzie: ‘The human community differs from the plant community in the two dominant characteristics of mobility and purpose, that is in the power to select a habitat and in the ability to control or modify the conditions of the habitat’ (1920: 64f ). Humans thus differ from plants in their active involvement within their own environment. As Durkheim and Tönnies, McKenzie sees human development as a differentiation process. When the division of labour is not widely differentiated, communities remain small, larger agglomerations arise only with the increased division of labour. McKenzie in particular distinguishes between four general types of community (1920: 66f): the agricultural town, specifically concerned with ‘primary services’ such as fishing, mining or lumbering; commercial communities fulfilling secondary functions i.e. distributing the commodities which originated or were produced in agricultural towns or other parts of the world; the industrial town, whose task it is to manufacture commodities and which may also fulfil functions which normally would be applicable to the agricultural town or the commercial community; and finally he defines communities which do not fall into any of the aforementioned categories, but rather take on special functions such as higher education or recreation/tourism. McKenzie also assesses the factors which determine the growth or decline of communities. He sees human communities as developing


in cycles. Under certain material conditions, communities seem to grow; yet they grow only to a certain extent, to ‘… the point of population adjustment to the economic base’ (1920: 68). An equilibrium is then being maintained for a certain period until a new cycle of adjustment sets in – more than likely caused by the evolution of new industries. According to the author, in modern societies the population adjustment happens in the form of individual migration. Of particular importance in this respect seem to be the new forms of communication and transportation. Cars, trains and trams seem to be essential to this modern and individual form of ‘locomotion’. The differentiation process and the division of labour which helped to create the city in the first place did not suddenly come to a halt once the larger community had come into being and was functioning properly. On the contrary, the differentiation process within the new community continued ‘… from the simple to the complex, from the general to the specialized; first to increasing specialization and later to a decentralization process’ (1920: 73) – and, as McKenzie observes, ‘… as the community increases in size specialization takes place both in the type of service provided and in the location of the place of service’ (ibid.). The result is the spatially highly differentiated and divided city with special sites reserved for work (and even different sites for each branch of industry or service), special sites for consumption and special sites for living. While McKenzie reflects upon the relationship between human ecology and the city in more general terms, William Burgess attempts to be more concrete. In ‘The Growth of the City’, he reflects on the expansion of the city and the spatial separation that goes along with the processes described. Burgess perceives of the expansion of the city as concentric circles (1920: 50f ). These circles develop successively from the core to the outer ring. The core, which Burgess calls the loop, is the central business district. The circle around the centre is a zone of transition open to business and light manufacture. The third circle is inhabited by people who no longer live in the ‘zone of transition’ but still have to live close enough to commute to their workplace in the second zone. Burgess calls this circle the workingmen’s home zone. The next ring Burgess identifies as the residential zone, an area mainly inhabited by the ‘better-off’ of the city. Finally there is the commuter zone, a suburban satellite city zone – a zone

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tory Zon ac

e

F

from which one can still reach ‘the loop’ in reasonable time (Figure 7.1). Burgess does not only observe a successive and timely order in these zones – ‘the loop’ being the oldest and the commuter zone being the newest – but also forms of mutual dependency on the development of these zone – a dependency which Burgess explains as ‘antagonistic and yet complementary processes of concentration and decentralization’ (1920: 52). The next zone could only expand and build upon the former zone, a process which Burgess tags ‘centralized decentralization’ (1920: 52). Burgess then goes a step further by linking these zones and concentric circles to social organisation. McKenzie’s more general human ecology model with its processes of differentiation, distribution and the division of labour now begins to come to life: Differentiation referred to as natural and cultural groupings living in segregated areas, designed to integrate the individual through group life and situation to the overall purpose of the ecological system of

I Loop II Zone in transition III Zone of workingmen's homes IV Residential zone V Commuters’ zone

Figure 7.1 The growth of the city Source: Park et al. (1920: 51). Reprinted with permission of Chicago University Press.


the city; likewise the division of labour now finds its ultimate expression in occupational selection located in special sections and zones of the city (Figure 7.2). The separation of social classes and cultural groups serves only one purpose: to keep the human ecology system, through internal differentiation, in a state of equilibrium. Yet it would be wrong to imagine the human ecology model as something static – even though it continually strives for a state of equilibrium. Quite the opposite is true: The city as the ultimate expression of human ecology requires permanent energy and stimulation – an influx which can only arise through continued mobility. Yet Burgess also sees a danger in too much energy input – a situation that could eventually lead to collapse and pathological forms. The influx of new energies must be steady; only then will the human ecology system function properly. In its final form, it is in the city’s interest to keep itself

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Figure 7.2 Urban areas Source: Park et al. (1920: 55). Reprinted with permission of Chicago University Press.

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intact and thus to maintain a ‘healthy’ state of equilibrium – in actuality this may only be achieved through social control. It is thus not surprising then that the key thinkers of the Chicago School took this up as their main focus – it was clearly the crux of the matter. Yet to understand how and why the notion of social control took on such importance in the scheme of thought, it is useful to look back at some of the dilemmas that arise with complex systems such as the city before tackling the problem of social control that arises with such complexity. While McKenzie’s contribution served as an introduction to the human ecology approach and Burgess’ essay spelled out more concretely what this approach implied in terms of time and spatial distribution in the city, Robert Park’s introductory essay in The City addresses the problems which arise when studying the urban environment as a complex ecological entity (1920: 1– 46). In his contribution, Park refers to sociological concepts which were first introduced by the classics. However, Park’s account owes less to Marx, Tocqueville and Durkheim than it does to the influence of the sociologists Tönnies and Simmel. Park makes a point of referring to the city as a community – a term which he borrows from Ferdinand Tönnies. Yet he differs from his predecessor in the concrete use of the term. While Tönnies thought of communities in terms of forms of associations which are clearly opposed to complex forms of society, Park uses the same term of community but gives it another meaning – a meaning which reflects the peculiar American conditions. In his view, the community is not opposed to society but in the form of the city, it becomes an integral part of society. Whereas industrial competition, the advanced division of labour, markets, money, trade and commerce were all features Tönnies considered as belonging to society and not to the community, these features become integral parts of Parks’s urban community. In other words, Park clearly sees that Tönnies’ concept needed to be adapted in order to make it applicable to American circumstances. The same can be said of Park’s reception of concepts stemming from Simmel – the classic sociologist Park was most familiar with. To recount briefly: Simmel dealt particularly with three important aspects which he saw as entwined in modern society: conflict which was seen as crucial to the survival and functional differentiation of society; the same applied to different forms of domination


(according to how differentiated societies were); the third aspect of group size explained modern forms of individuality – resulting from the sheer increase of influences and interaction depending on group size. All three aspects were united and discussed in one of Simmel’s most famous essay ‘The Metropolis and Mental Life’ – an essay which Louis Wirth, another Chicago sociologist and collaborator on The City, regarded as ‘(t)he most important single article on the city from the sociological standpoint’ (1920: 219). Consequently, like Simmel, Park talks about conflicts in the city: through the division of labour vocational types became more and more differentiated and this ultimately led to the formation of classes. Yet class struggle is not the vehicle by which conflicts are acted out in the city. It is rather vice and criminal aspects that represent conflict – a conflict where the most disadvantaged groups try to get their share of city resources. As with Simmel, Park also discusses domination. Political machines, political bosses, good-government organisations, according to the Chicago sociologist, all fight for domination. Yet it is a fight in the arena of modern, legal terms. Finally there is the question of the relationship between group size and individuality. Here Park is again close to Simmel in stressing the ‘multiplied opportunities’ and experiences one can encounter in the City. Park also indirectly draws a line between Simmel and Sigmund Freud in that one can observe that the urban environment urges the individual to be restrained and to control its wilder instincts. The city thus contributes directly to the civilising process. Yet, according to Park, it would be wrong to assume that the city only stands for civilisation and civilised behaviour. The differentiation and spatial segmentation can also result in different moral regions – with serious implications. Although it is true that in the city the general rule of law applies and that sheer violence has been constrained, it is also true that morality tends to become localised. To use a Durkheimian expression, there no longer seems to be an overall organic solidarity which binds individuals together – at least not in some districts of the city; rather there seems to be a backdrop – if not to say a regression – whereby individuals in the different districts create their own internal ‘laws’ and values ‘by a taste or by a passion’ (1920: 45). Through differentiation a situation arises where, in the words of Park, ‘… the poor, the vicious, and the delinquent, (are) crushed together in an unhealthy and contagious intimacy, breed in and in, soul and body’ (1920: 45).

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If it is true that ‘the city … shows the good and evil in human nature in excess’ (1920: 46), the immediate dilemma which then must be addressed is: how can one make sure that the good prevails against evil? In other words: the question of social control arises. Robert Park in particular seems – almost to a point of obsession – occupied with social control. In his view, the city will only function properly when dysfunctional elements are kept in control. One of the ways to impose social control on the city – and this should not, in the end, come as a complete surprise – is sociology. Park imagines the city as ‘a laboratory or almost clinic in which human nature and social processes may be conveniently and profitably studied’ (1920: 46). In regarding the urban environment as a laboratory, the human ecology approach finally seems to show its true colours. With its obsession for adjustment, control and, finally, order, it is not difficult to see how this approach became a forerunner of what later would be called social technology and social engineering – even though the original intentions of the Chicago sociologists were those of social reformers obsessed with planning in the name of the betterment of the human race.

8 The Origins of Cultural and Community Studies: Robert and Helen Lynd’s Anatomy of Middletown

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: functional perspective within cultural anthropology; Thorstein Veblen, Karl Marx. Model/paradigm(s): modern small town America. Concepts: making a living, setting up a home, training the young, leisure, religious life, community life; business control (the X family), ideology; middle class, colour line. Empirical environment(s): American Midwest (Muncie, Indiana), 1920 –35.

While the institutional analysis of Thorstein Veblen and the Chicago sociologists’ approach of human ecology was influenced by social Darwinism, this does not apply to the work of the social scientists Robert and Helen Lynd. Their analytical tools were derived from American cultural anthropology – although Robert S. Lynd (1892– 1970) was a professor of sociology at Columbia University and his partner Helen Merrell Lynd (1896–1982) was a social philosophy professor at Sarah Lawrence College. Today their studies of Muncie, Indiana, a typical small city in the American Midwest, are celebrated as sociological classics (Lynd, 1929; 1937); yet when the Lynds themselves, both from the Midwest, began their field research, they did not call themselves sociologists but rather cultural anthropologists. An approach was used whereby the most familiar territory was studied with the same objectivity as 79

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if it were on some exotic far-away tropical island. In other words, the researcher would study the Midwest as if he or she were academic outsiders, anthropologists who had come to study strange and foreign habits. With such a change of perspective, the Lynds departed radically from the institutional analysis of Thorstein Veblen and the human ecology approach of the Chicago School. The Lynds also differed in their focus of research. Where Veblen was occupied with the larger American social structure and Burgess and Park studied the emerging urban environment in the United States, the Lynds undertook the first community study that was meant to be representative of small town America. To understand the full impact of the Middletown studies, one has to bear in mind the time in which it was conducted. Veblen’s work spanned the final two decades of the last century and the first two decades of this century and the Chicago School dealt mainly with the rise of the American city in that same period. The Lynds’ Middletown studies extend beyond that. They give us not only a representative picture of small town America, but also an insight into a very peculiar time in American history and the change that took place therein. To be more precise: the first Middletown study was completed in 1925, a time when the economy was still booming. In contrast, the second study was produced a decade later and in very different circumstances: America had experienced the Stock Market Crash, it had suffered the Depression, and it was undergoing a slow recovery under the direction of Roosevelt’s New Deal. The Middletown studies are thus not only representative of the transformation of small town America, they also capture the elements of the most important social transformation that took place in 20th-century America. As stated in the opening chapter of their first study, Middletown was supposed to be ‘A Study in Modern American Culture’ and the general idea was to follow ‘a dynamic functional’ approach (Lynd, 1929: 6). By identifying and studying six different forms of activities (making a living, setting up a home, training the young, leisure, and religious and community life), the Lynds hoped to collect sufficient data that would in the end offer a complete picture, one in which every aspect of the different activities would prove to contribute (or serve as a function) in upholding and sustaining a common culture.

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Before addressing these different activities, the Lynds felt it necessary to provide a background history of the town, thus clarifying precisely why they had selected that particular town (1929: 7–9). At the time of the first study, Muncie had a population of c. 35,000. It was regarded as representative of contemporary American life due to its compactness and homogeneity. The town had also been selected because it had an industrial culture; yet at the same time it was not a single plant town and this provided an environment for a proper study to be made of the process of transformation. It had no other outstanding peculiarities or features; it was not a satellite town for example. Muncie was also representative of the Mid-West in its ethnic mix – if one can use such a definition for a town where approximately 92 per cent of the population was considered to be ‘native white’ (obviously referring to the population of European stock, born in America), and only 6 per cent were classified as ‘Negroes’, the rest being of ‘foreign stock’, referring to non-indiginous Americans. The first settlement took place in 1820; when Middletown became a county government in 1827 it had 6000 inhabitants. The 1880s saw the booming of natural gas industry and along with the boom, industry (mainly glass and iron mills) came to town and the population rose to 20,000. When the boom came to an end, some industry stayed, some left. By then, agriculture and agricultural production had already changed radically: with the aid of advanced farming technology and methods it was now possible to produce the same output with fewer people. The people who were set ‘free’ moved to the city to find employment – more often than not in an already developed industry. As has been stressed, Robert and Helen Lynd were cultural anthropologists yet their analysis parallels that of Marx in stressing the importance of the material aspects in life. Thus their opening chapter deals firstly with ‘getting a living’ (1929: 21–89). Like Marx, the authors commenced by identifying two classes in Middletown, the working class and the business class. The distinction between two classes is, according to the authors, the outstanding feature of Middletown. But here the parallels with Marx end, as the Lynds’ concept of the two classes is very different to that of their predecessor. Their definition of the classes follows different, anthropologically based distinctions: the working class is seen as making a living through production, while the business class is made up of people selling ‘things, services, and ideas’ (1929: 22).

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Although the Lynds mention the gradual differentiation of the two classes, it could be estimated that the working class in Middletown was approximately two and a half times the size of the business class. Within the category of making a living, another remarkable feature was seen as important: that of the apparent division along gender lines. In contrast to a Marxist or Weberian perspective, the cultural anthropological approach here proved advantageous in highlighting this division. It is shown that making a living was predominantly a male domain. Yet, the number of working-class women seemed to be increasing. The explanation for the recent development of employing more women could be explained by the demand for unqualified, cheap labour. This fact is supplemented by the data concerning age groups. With the increasing prevalence of machine technology the demand for not only women, but for young workers in particular, increased. The background of these young workers was mainly rural; according to the Lynds, about half of the workers hailed from the farms and were recruited mainly from small towns. The reason for this is that agriculture in itself became an industry which freed-up masses of farm workers for productive industrial labour in the more modern agglomerates such as Middletown. The Lynds also investigated and discussed the implications and the changing significance of work. What they found was that an increasing gap developed between what people produced and what their actual needs were. First, job satisfaction became almost impossible with the tendency toward specialisation and intensification of modern industry. To consider work in modern industry as a vocation becomes a rare phenomenon and applies only to a fraction of the work force. Secondly, in a situation where life is considered and defined as solely based around work, a dilemma arises: working class incomes do not necessarily guarantee a satisfactory life outside work; one needs money to consume and participate in modern recreation. Hence the majority of the working class seem to be caught up in a ‘Catch 22’ situation: they have to work to make a living; at the same time they cannot fully enjoy life outside work, as their income restricts them in terms of what they can afford. Almost needless to say, those who are unemployed, are rarely in a position to enjoy the benefits of recreational and/or community life at all.


Of course, work or ‘making a living’ necessarily has an impact on housing – the second activity that the Lynds choose to analyse (1929: 93–178). It should not be surprising that housing follows the established patterns found within the distinction between the working and the business class. In the case of the working class majority, the Lynds observed a stronger tendency towards decentralisation. One rarely finds working-class activities overlapping in any one particular area. In contrast, the workers lived in one part of the city, worked in another and spent their leisure time in yet another part. Additionally, the Lynds observed that the homes of the business class were usually larger than those of the working class – although business families were usually smaller. Also not surprisingly, the working class homes were not only smaller but also less well equipped: at the time the study was conducted, a quarter of all working-class dwellings still lacked running water, and electricity was a relatively late introduction. In relation to percentage income, the working family also paid more for their housing. The Lynds estimated that a fourth of the entire family income went towards housing – for either renting or buying a home. It is hardly surprising that owning your home thus became the workingman’s dream. It is interesting to note that this dream paralleled other statistical findings: the Lynds found for example, that the working class was much more mobile than the business class: on average the working class family moved more often than the business family. One of the crucial elements of maintaining a community and making it function was the training of the young (1929: 181–222). The Lynds’ study revealed that fewer young people were trained according to their individual needs, wishes or expectations. Much more emphasis was given to ‘objective’ aims – like ‘the habits of industry’ or ‘the ideals of a nation’. The Lynds concluded that training the young had nothing to do with learning or developing the individuals’ intelligence, but more so with the wishes and needs of local business. Young people learned not for their own lives but rather to develop ‘character and good will’ – prerequisites for industrial labour and discipline. Thus, there seemed to be an increasing gap between what was still taught in schools (such as foreign languages, literature or history) and the non-use by wage-earning adults of what they had once learned in school.

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Two other activities that the Lynds regarded as functional within the community were ‘using leisure’, and ‘religious practices’ (1929: 225–312; 315– 409). Although these were dealt with in individual chapters, the two must be seen as interconnected. The Lynds observed that the patterns of using leisure had changed radically; in particular church and neighbourhood activities seemed to be in decline. These ‘old fashioned’ activities were replaced by new ones. As they became more widely available, two inventions in particular had a revolutionary impact on leisure activities: the automobile and the radio. It was these two inventions which pushed Middletown into modernity. The result of this was that neighbourhood activities tended towards decline; the car gave people the opportunity to get out of town and spend their leisure time elsewhere – particularly on weekends – and this soon became somewhat of a problem for the Protestant churches. The radio made the people of Middletown feel that they were part of national events; it made them feel connected to what was happening on a national level. The people of Middletown no longer only depended upon regional coverage. Another new pattern which had only partially to do with new inventions, was the standardisation of leisure activities – and again the Lynds observed that some of these activities followed the main lines of distinction between the two classes. Economic distinctions were paralleled in leisure activities: not everyone was allowed into the golf club. Taking the main difference between the two classes into account, it was surprising that these differences were only marginally reflected within community activities such as politics (1929: 413–34). The Democratic Party and the Republican Party were the two main parties in Middletown – the Republican Party being dominant. The Lynds saw the explanation for this in the general attitude of the people of Middletown who were generally suspicious of politics. If there was any political activity, it tended to come mainly from the business class which saw its interests best represented by the Grand Old Party. Forms of dissent were regarded with suspicion and were blamed on either Catholics, Negroes or Jews. As the Lynds noted, it was civic loyalty and patriotism which kept people at bay. If there was any sense of belonging at all, then it was not a proletarian class consciousness as Marx once predicted, but precisely the opposite: according to the Lynds, the stirrings of a common conscience could


only be observed within the business class – a problem that would be investigated in much more depth in the second Middletown study. When the Lynds returned to Muncie to conduct their follow-up study, they were confronted with a Middletown that had been affected by events which had also affected and shaped the whole of America. The country had suffered the Stock Market Crash and the depression that followed; it witnessed Roosevelt taking over presidential power in 1933 and it saw the beginning of the New Deal. By the mid-thirties, the economy was still in a fragile state, but it was generally felt – and Middletown was no exception to this feeling of optimism – that recovery was on its way. Middletown in Transition attempted to grasp the two momenta of continuity and change – both were represented by studying the same main activities which had been studied in the first study. New information was added where necessary and new chapters were introduced where the researchers felt that they had encountered new phenomena which needed to be separately addressed (Lynd, 1937: 3–6). The Lynds’ methodology had changed somewhat. Their first study was written from a cultural anthropological viewpoint, the second study revealed that over the years the Lynds had been influenced by other theories – in particular Marxism. Yet – as we shall see – this encounter with Marxism did not lead the Lynds to revise their perspective completely. Rather, one has to understand that this encounter took place under the peculiar historical conditions of the depression and its recovery. These events radicalised the Lynds’ thoughts – and shaped their analysis in that they applied Marxism to American circumstances. In the Lynds’ case this encounter proved to be beneficial in so far as it contributed to enriching both, cultural anthropology and Marxism. As it turned out, theoretical concepts of both approaches could enlighten each other – at least where the empirical findings themselves suggested a merging of conceptual tools. The influence of Marx became particularly obvious in a new chapter called ‘The X Family’. The subtitle ‘A Pattern of Business-Class Control’ already suggested that some things had changed. To recount briefly, in the previous study the Lynds shed light upon the major difference between what they saw as working class and business class; yet surprisingly no one really seemed to have been in control of either Middletown’s business or political affairs. To be

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sure, there were some links between the business class and the Republican Party; yet these contacts did not amount to the formation of a ruling class in Middletown. Conducting their second study, the Lynds were now confronted with a very different situation – a situation where an emerging elite, symbolised by the wealthy and powerful X-family, could be observed (1937: 74 –101). How did the Lynds explain the rise of the X-family? The family had always been in Middletown; involved first in the gas industry, the family then managed to build up some capital and over the years eventually became millionaires. Yet, as the Lynds observed, their social and economic influence did not translate directly into political power. This was only made possible by the Depression and the beginning of the New Deal. The X-family not only owned all the main banks, law firms, industrial plants, retailing, and housing but also influenced Middletown’s schools and welfare system – nothing functioned and no recovery could be made without them. In the times of the Depression they were the ones who gained the most; they were also the ones the New Deal politics had to rely on for recovery – despite the fact that the X-family had been closer to the Republican Party than to Roosevelt. In other words: independent of the political change on the national level, the X-family had become the symbol of increasing class stratification – and thus a symbol of America’s New Deal elite. Yet, as the Lynds rightly suggested, they could only develop into an elite because their activities were seen to be in the public interest. In other words: what was good for the X-family was also good for the general public. For the Lynds this popular view could be explained through the Protestant work ethic. The Lynds did not explicitly refer to Max Weber, but the words the Lynds used to characterise the X-family, could have been written by him. The following quote almost reads like Max Weber’s theory of the Protestant spirit – applied to America: Half a dozen other family names in Middletown are associated with the city’s industrial development, but none of them so completely symbolises the city’s achievements. Of the original five brothers … two of the brothers remain today, both men in their seventies, alert, capable, democratic, Christian gentlemen, trained in the school of rugged individualism, patrons of art, education, religion, and a long list of philanthropies, men who have never


spared themselves in business or civic affairs; high exemplars of the successful, responsible manipulators of the American formulas of business enterprise. In their conscientious and utterly unhypocritical combination of high profits, great philanthropy, and a low wage scale, they embody the hard-headed ethos of Protestant capitalism with its identification of Christianity with the doctrine of the goodness to all concerned of unrestricted business enterprise. In their modesty and personal rectitude, combined with their rise from comparative poverty to great wealth, they fit perfectly the American success dream. (1937: 75f; emphasis in the original) Apart from the rise of a new elite, symbolised by the X-family, the most radical changes took place in leisure activities (1937: 242–94). In their first study, the Lynds had already found that leisure activities had changed. What they found on their return to Middletown was beyond their expectations. Two developments were particularly worrying: first, more leisure activities than ever before were centred around economic values. In this respect the Lynds are right in stressing the parallels to work patterns; secondly, and related to this development, leisure meant different things to the working class and the business class. While the working class used leisure time as the time to enjoy life, the business class – because of its different ‘working’ patterns – had no such needs; hence it could even put leisure time to use for business activities. The Lynds also stressed that both classes seemed not to have learned from the Depression: as has been pointed out, during the time of the first Middletown study, leisure time was recognised as having already become standardised and more commercialised; after the Depression leisure activities seem to become even more standardised and commercialised. In particular the importance of the automobile was highlighted by the Lynds: If the automobile is by now a habit with the business class, a comfortable, convenient, pleasant addition to the paraphernalia of living, it represents far more than this for the working class; for the latter it gives the status which his job increasingly denies, and, more than any other possession or facility to which he has access, it symbolises living, having a good time, the thing that keeps you working. (1937: 245)

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But it was not the car and the more active forms of spending one’s leisure time, it was the radio which became the passion of Middletowners. During the Depression people opted for the cheap alternatives of going to libraries and reading; after the Depression the slow economic recovery meant that almost half of Middletown’s household were now able to buy radios. Middletown even got its own broadcasting station. According to the Lynds this had two effects: the radio ‘carried people away from localism and gives them direct access to the more popular stereotypes in the national life’ and ‘in the other direction, the local station operates to bind together an increasingly large and diversified city’ (1937: 264). Discussing the influence of the radio, one must of course mention ideology, or what the Lynds have called ‘the Middletown Spirit’ (1937: 402–86). Compared to the radio which was somewhat new, the values which helped to maintain a sense of continuity within the community were much older. To gain a fuller understanding of this Middletown spirit, it is worthwhile quoting at length from the 15-page-long list of values which the Lynds drew up (1937; all following quotes are from 403 to 418). The Inhabitants of Middletown believed ‘in being successful’, ‘in being an average man’, ‘in having character is more important than “having brains” ’, ‘in having “common sense” ’, in ‘that evolution in society is “from the base and inferior to the beautiful and good” ’ – all what an observer would consider to be typical American values. Against their actual experience of the Depression and the emerging New Deal they also believed ‘that “the natural and orderly process of progress” should be followed’. Middletown’s inhabitants argued against any radical measures, because ‘ “radicals” (“red”, “communists”, “socialists”, “atheists” – the terms were fairly interchangeable in Middletown) wanted to interfere with things and “wreck American civilization” ’. The common person’s philosophy was rather that ‘in the end those who follow the middle course prove to be the wisest’ and ‘that it’s better to stick close to the middle of the road, to move slowly, and to avoid extremes’. After all, ‘the strongest and best should survive, for that is the law of nature’. Opposed to being open-minded, they held on to their opinion ‘that “American ways” were better than “foreign ways” ’ and to prejudices like ‘that most foreigners are “inferior” ’, ‘that Negroes are inferior’, and ‘that individual Jews may be all right but that as a race one doesn’t care to mix too much with


them’. Optimistically the people of Middletown concluded ‘that American business will always lead the world’ and ‘that economic conditions are the result of a natural order which cannot be changed’. Furthermore, the hopes of the business class seemed not to have been shattered by a radicalised working class – as the Lynds’ list clearly demonstrated: ‘the rich are, by and large more intelligent and industrious than the poor’, ‘the captains of industry are social benefactors’, ‘capital is simply the cumulated savings of these people with foresight’, ‘capital and labor are partners and have basically the same interests’, ‘labor organization is unwise and un-American’ are mentioned as strong and profound values. Why change when ‘the family is a sacred institution and the fundamental institution of our society’, ‘men should behave like men, and women like women’, ‘a married woman’s place is first of all in the home’, ‘too much education and contact with books and big ideas unfits a person for practical life’, ‘America will always be the land of opportunity’, ‘socialism, communism, and fascism are disreputable and un-American’, ‘radicalism makes for the destruction of the church and family, looseness of morals, and the stifling of individual initiative’, ‘nobody would want to live in a community without churches’, ‘Protestantism is superior to Catholicism’ – all of these things having a place in Middletown? From holding on to these values, it was but a small step to maintain that ‘foreigners, internationalists, and international bankers, people who are not patriots – for city, state, and nation, non-Protestants, Jews and Negroes – (are) “not quite our sort” ’. The Lynds discussed the various values which were voiced and came to the conclusion that in relation to other groups, be they inside or outside the community, the fences were simply put up higher (1937: 458–65, 470 –5). The researchers explained this attitude as stemming from a general sense of insecurity and the need for protection. Still astonishing though for the Lynds was the lack of any real opposition in Middletown – something that seemed to be odd in the face of the recently experienced Depression. The working class in particular seemed to be paralysed, inactive and opposed to any major radical reform. Raising working class consciousness seemed not to be an issue. The business class remained unopposed and unchallenged. If any class consciousness existed at all, it was not to be found in the working class, but – quite contrary to Karl

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Marx’s prediction – rather in a small group within the business class, close to the X-family. Yet there was one major revelation in the second Middletown study – a finding which might not explain the silence of the working class, nor the class consciousness of the new elite – but which – according to the prediction of the Lynds – would shape the future class structure not only of Middletown but the entire American society: the emergence of a middle class, consisting of ‘“small” white collar folk’ (1937: 455–58). It was only through the emergence of this new middle class that a line could be drawn between the upper class and the lower class – a sociological finding that is more in accordance with the multi-layer theory of class, status and power groups of Max Weber than with the two-class system as proposed by Karl Marx. A second finding, which also had to do with stratification, was equally important. Not only was Middletown divided along class lines but also another important division became apparent – the colour line. Whereas the Lynds barely mentioned ethnicity in their first study, they now stressed that ‘… the cleft between the white and the Negro populations of Middletown is the deepest and mostly blindly followed line of division in the community’ (1937: 463). The Lynds also pointed out that most of the discrimination directed against the black minority stemmed from the working class. The Lynds saw the explanation for this being in the competition for dirty jobs – traditionally done by the poorer white working class. For the first time, they now had to compete with African Americans. In their résumé, entitled ‘Middletown Faces Both Ways’, the Lynds raised the question of whether or not Middletown had learned from the crisis (1937: 487–510). The answer to this question was a strict ‘no’. The very fact that the main value system and the ideology had not changed, was for the Lynds proof enough that the city was not well prepared for the difficult times ahead – particularly in the light of predictable conflicts in the future, which the Lynds saw resulting from Middletown’s increased competition within its system of social stratification. The Lynds followed Marx in particular in maintaining that ideology especially – as a part of the social relations of production – did not follow the continuous development of the forces of production. Rather it remained unchanged: the city is uneasily conscious of many twinges down under the surface, but it resembles the person who insists on denying and


disregarding unpleasant physical symptoms on the theory that everything must be all right, and that if anything really is wrong it may cure itself without leading to a major operation. The conflicts under the surface in Middletown are not so much new as more insistent, more difficult to avoid, harder to smooth over. (1937: 490) The Lynds concluded that ‘… Middletown tries to forget and to disregard the growing disparities in the midst of which it lives’ (1937: 491). Furthermore, the Lynds concluded that that which the New Deal offered and indeed made possible, was little more than the opportunity to organise and mediate change – only so that everything could remain the same and leave a deeply stratified society untouched. Hence, the Lynds did not see it as contradictory that a conservative and formerly Republican Middletown voted by 59 per cent for Roosevelt. Rather it confirmed a position that could be described as ‘controlled change’ in an attempt to avoid radical reform – almost in the sense that Simmel had written about it. To this extent the business class would even compromise and try to come to terms with the government bureaucracy that would inevitably come to Middletown with the New Deal.

9 The Political Sociology of C. Wright Mills: an Anatomy of the American Power Structure

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: American Pragmatism (Peirce, James, Dewey), Karl Marx, Max Weber, Emile Durkheim, Georg Simmel, Ferdinand Tönnies, Thorstein Veblen, Robert and Helen Lynd. Model/paradigm(s): the ‘pyramid within the pyramid’, the triangle of power. Concepts: class (occupation, status, power), objective class position and subjective class consciousness, old middle class and new middle class, power elite, publics and mass society. Empirical environment(s): USA 1930 –60.

As his predecessor Thorstein Veblen, C. Wright Mills (1916–62) has often been regarded as a ‘muckraker’. Yet when Mills initially began his academic career, he was not considered to be an outsider. Born and raised in Texas, he started off at the University of Texas in Austin, where he received his first degree. He then transferred to the University of Wisconsin. In Wisconsin, Mills felt increasingly drawn to the ideas of social reformers – both to the ideas of more practicaloriented academic New Deal supporters as well as to the thought of Charles Peirce, William James and John Dewey. Other influences were also important. At the University of Wisconsin Mills collaborated with Hans Gerth, a German refugee, who introduced him to the sociological classics and who discussed with Mills the implications of these theories. Together with Gerth, Mills edited a then new collection of essays entitled From Max Weber – Essays in Sociology – an edition that is still in print. The two sociologists also collaborated on another book 92

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entitled Character and Social Structure, which was a discussion of various theoretical approaches attempting to investigate and understand the functioning of social institutions. As an assosiate sociology professor Mills went to the University of Maryland. Being so close to Washington DC, the decision-making capital made the critical intellectual feel uneasy. Mills had always been more attracted to New York – particularly to its intellectual infrastructure and its political discussions. He had already been in contact with Paul Lazarsfeld’s Bureau for Applied Social Research, and when he was offered a professorship at Columbia University, Mills finally accepted. At Columbia, Mills met among others Robert Lynd, the author of the Middletown studies, who was later – as the Dean of the sociology department – to become Mills’ boss. Mills not only became a colleague of the author of the Middletown studies, he was also involved in empirical research which stood very much in the tradition of those studies – as can be seen in Mills’ trilogy on America’s power structure. The first part of this trilogy, entitled The New Men of Power, dealt with the organised working class and its attempts to modernise its political structure (Mills, 1948). Yet the study The New Men of Power was limited in its scope in that it focused on the problems of workers’ representation. Only the direct involvement with Paul Lazarsfeld’s Bureau for Applied Social Research allowed Mills deeper insight into how American society worked at large. In particular the Decatur Project – a study of a small town American community in the Mid-West – provided Mills with plenty of empirical evidence. Together with other material, it helped Mills to conceive of a new ambitious project whose major aim was to describe the changing social structure of American society. Mills attempted to cover a time span from the New Deal to the time after the Second World War. Thus Mills took off where the Lynds were about to leave off. The study differed not only in the time span it tried to cover, but also in its scope: Mills would not only investigate one representative community but also the study would deal with the entire American social structure; and where the Lynds’ attempt was somewhat limited in terms of theoretical scope, Mills sought to be more ambitious. ‘The Sociology of Stratification’, notes for a lecture which Mills wrote for a course he taught at Columbia University at about the same time White Collar appeared, can be interpreted as an outline of his attempt to conceptualise social stratification. Mills distinguished

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four interconnected dimensions of stratification: occupation, class, status and power (Mills, 1963: 307ff). Like Weber, Mills defined ‘occupation’ as an activity which guaranteed income, ‘class’ was seen as the amount and source of income, ‘prestige’ had to do with honour, and ‘power’ was defined as the ability ‘to be able to realise one’s will, even against the resistance of others’ (1963: 315). These Weberian concepts were then discussed in the American context. On ‘occupation’, Mills stressed that there had been a considerable shift in the 20th century: America had witnessed a decline of the old middle class – the independent entrepreneurs, the businessmen, the farmers – and the rise of a new middle class, consisting of managers, salaried employees, in short: people with white collars. Concerning ‘class’ and ‘class situation’, Mills was convinced that life chances in contemporary America were more defined by income than by property; he added that almost all white-collar employees did not derive their income from property, but were rather paid an income for their work (although Mills agreed that the income of white-collar workers was on average still slightly higher than that of the working class). In terms of status, Mills saw that in America prestige was not gained through birth – as was often the case in Europe – but rather gained through occupation, income and life chances and/or the class situation. Power depended on the same factors, yet differed in that it had to be critically judged in the context of social institutions such as corporations and/or political groups. As has already been stressed, in defining these central concepts, Mills followed a Weberian approach; but Mills also discussed Marxian topics such as the concept of ‘class in and for itself’. Yet he was very careful about the use of Marxian language. Class ‘in and for itself’ for example is redefined as the difference between the objective class position and subjective class consciousness. Furthermore, and with reference to the social conditions in the United States, Mills maintained that ‘the fact that men are not “class conscious” at all times and in all places does not mean that “there are no classes” or that “in America everybody is middle class”’ (1963: 317). Mills sent on to explain: The economic and social facts are one thing. Psychological considerations may or may not be associated with them in rationally expected ways. Both are important, and if psychological feelings and political outlooks do not correspond to economic or


occupational class, we must try to find out why, rather than throw out the economic baby with the psychological bath, and so fail to understand how either fits into the national tub. No matter what people believe, class structure as an economic arrangement influences their life chances according to their positions in it. If they do not grasp the causes of their conduct this does not mean that the social analyst must ignore or deny them. (ibid.) Mills hinted towards a problem first discussed in Marx who saw the two moments as being entwined; yet the answer Mills provided was actually very Weberian in that he states that one did not need the subjective moment to talk about class objectively. Mills also looked at other peculiarities: in America, the rise of the ‘welfare state’ had contributed to increasing class conflict; yet this did not necessarily lead to more class consciousness. Rather it led to the enlargement of power of social institutions – while the importance of the individual diminished. What we can observe in the United States then, is in other words, a struggle of a powerful elite – those who are in an institutional position to make history – against the powerless mass. To find out how such a gap could actually develop, marks the epistemological interest of C. Wright Mills in White Collar and The Power Elite. In the beginning of White Collar C. Wright Mills uses a theory of stratification as outlined thus far – with one difference: the argument now gets a more political twist (Mills, 1951). According to Mills, Marxism and Liberalism were no longer in a position to understand and to explain the changing American social structure (1951: XVIIf ; XIXf). Marxism focused too much on class, while Liberalism only had the individual in mind. Yet, the social changes which occurred had an impact on both, the individual and the class structure. Mills elaborated this argument in four stages: the decline of the old middle class, the rise of the new middle class, the impact of these changes for America’s system of social stratification and the political problems which result from the changed structure. What were the components of the old middle class and what were the reasons for its decline? Mills followed Veblen in maintaining that the ‘old middle class’ had its roots in the countryside

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(1951: 15–20). The independent farmer, the speculators, the little rural capitalist, small savings, insurance and banks, craftsmen, ‘independent’ workers – they all came from the countryside and rural areas. The social structure made up by small town America served to maintain a balance until the Civil War – a balance not made up by total equal distribution of property but still more democratically distributed property than the system that developed after the Civil War. With industrialisation a process of separation took place: on one side the industrial corporation with its new middle-class employees developed; on the other side the small firm entrepreneur had to fight for survival and was at risk of becoming an ‘endangered species’. Mills caught this development appropriately by stating that a nation of small capitalists had turned into a nation of employees. The employee of the new middle class was no longer self-employed as was his predecessor from the old middle class. Nothing could describe this better than a statistic which Mills cited: whilst at the beginning of the 19th century four-fifths of the working population worked independently, in 1940 it was only one-fifth that was selfemployed (1951: 63). Sociologically, the new middle class has been described by Mills as ‘a pyramid within a pyramid’ – meaning that the new middle class was not a homogeneous strata, but rather a heterogeneous phenomenon (1951: 70ff). It contained both, a small number of individuals who were managers in the upper ranks of a corporation who earned a lot and who played a powerful role (telling their employees what and what not to do), and it also contained the mass of individuals closer to the bottom line of ‘the pyramid within the pyramid’, consisting of white-collar workers and minor employees, earning the same as blue-collar workers, in short: the ones who took orders not give them. Again, Mills follows Weber in observing a process of rationalisation and bureaucratisation in large corporations: work patterns became more standardised – leaving no room for genuine craftsmanship or individual contribution and individual imagination. Obedience and command would prevail. To be in a position to execute power within the structure of a given social institution meant prestige, acknowledgement and success. Hence, such circumstances contributed to a changing self-perception of the individual: no longer could one recognise and conduct oneself as a member of a class; rather one would internalise social problems; one would ‘fight


it out’ individually and – when unsuccessful – one would blame it on oneself. Such an attitude, as Mills has pointed out, would inevitably lead to passivity, indifference and a reluctance to organise or to be organised politically. Because the new middle class was such a heterogeneous phenomenon, it was difficult to conceptualise – hence Mills’ reluctance to come up with a prediction (1951: 290ff). He preferred rather to present the reader with four possible scenarios: (1) the new middle class would eventually become so large that it could establish itself as a class of its own; (2) the new middle class could also develop into a ‘class-in-between’, thus serving as a mediator between capital and labour; (3) the new middle class could also enlarge the bourgeoisie – thereby helping the propertied class; and (4) the new middle class could become proletarianised and could thereby enlarge the working class. All four scenarios would have different political implications. Only one political result seemed to have become clear already – and both Liberalism and Marxism would have to come to terms with it: the rise of the entirely private, passive and apathetic human being. In the concluding paragraph, Mills hypothesises that the: new middle-class people increasingly have the attitude of those who are given work; old middle-class people still have the attitude of those who give it. If the old middle-classes have, from time to time, fought monopoly corporations, in the small name of property, the new middle classes have been dependent upon monopoly corporations for secure jobs and have revealed the fact psychologically by loyalties to the firm. Small businessmen, especially retailers, fight ‘chain stores’, government, and unions – under the wing of big business. White-collar workers, in so far as they are organised at all, are organised in unions which in all essentials are under the wage-workers. Thus both old and new middle classes become shock troops for other more powerful and articulate pressure blocs in the political scene. (1951: 351) Here, Mills is highly sceptical concering the political implications of the shift described: for the critical sociologist all patterns hinted towards a newly emerging opportunism: the new middle class,

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Mills maintained, ‘will “choose” only after their “choice” has won’ (1951: 353). While C. Wright Mills conceived of the new American middle class as a ‘pyramid within a pyramid’, The Power Elite appeared to be a radicalised elaboration of some of the themes discussed in White Collar. Mills still held on to the Weberian notions of social stratification, but it seems that the Marxian influences had become even stronger: still American society was described by this pyramidical stratification, but Mills now focused more on the political implications of the American social structure (Mills, 1956). The new epistemological interest was bound to be more radical because it understood society in the Marxian terms of two opposing major forces: the powerless mass and the powerful elite. What was it that had led to such a situation? In the beginning of his analysis Mills hypothesised that it is impossible for the common man and the masses to make history in the emphatic sense of the word (Mills, 1965: 21–9). He found the explanation for this in the extreme concentration of power in American society. Only those individuals in the power elite who had access to the appropriate means could make the decisions which would have far-reaching implications. When Mills talked of means he referred to large institutions. Without institutional support the decisions of the power elite would be ineffectual. According to Mills, it was particularly the relatively new institutions in the realms of the economic, political and military sphere – as compared to the older institutions of family, school, university and church, which were now more influential. Mills took a closer look at the former three realms. The economic sphere could only become so important as a result of the social change from small and middle-sized companies – which still guaranteed a certain balance – to a point where bureaucratic corporations became the decisive form. Mills saw a similar tendency in the political realm: the decisions of the decentrally organised democratic order had been replaced by orders passed down from the capital. With this came the shift from the legislative branch to executive powers. Yet the biggest step was made by the military: in no less than two decades an unequalled rise could be observed. The Second World War and the Cold War that followed were mainly responsible for this development.


Mills did not only stress the concentration of power; he also saw increasing interaction and interconnections between the three realms. It is thus justified to speak of a new power elite made up by a triangular power structure. After having developed the main hypothesis, Mills then went on to discuss the social basis of this newly emerged power elite. Again, Mills referred to Max Weber in his definition of power; he understood power to be the ability to pursue one’s own will even against the resistance of others. Mills clearly saw that power could take on many forms; yet he insisted that in order to be really effective, power must make use of institutions. The same was true of wealth. Only with the help of institutions could one become wealthy and powerful. And logically, as it is with power and wealth, so it was with status: only in connection with institutions did it work. Mills also referred to class consciousness – and hence to Marx – in so far as he recognised it as one of the constitutive elements of the power elite. In this respect, Mills saw major differences to Europe. In Europe wealth, power, prestige and status were separated along class lines. A different situation emerged in the United States where there was no confrontation between feudal structures and the bourgeoisie. This was, according to Mills, one of the reasons why the American power elite does not only stand for wealth, but for prestige and political power as well. Another factor was unique in the evolution of the American power elite: it had always been on the right side of history and progress. This gave the elite a certain feeling of common belonging. Mills also looked at the historical circumstances behind the evolution of the American power elite. The author was thus far-off in anticipating an everlasting elite – as were his predecessors, the Italian elite theorists Mosca, Pareto and Michels. On the contrary, Mills was very aware of the fact that there were new aspects and new historical and sociological evidence in relation to the newly emerging American power elite. First, Mills looked at the economic dimensions (1956: 54 –170). He stressed that – against common perception – it was not individual millionaires and the super-rich who formed part of the power elite; also one did not necessarily qualify for the power elite if one was particularly ambitious, energetic or had been saving and accumulating money for a long time. Rather the economic elite consisted of people who were at the top of large industrial corporations. Before

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the Civil War there were only few people and few families with large amounts of money and wealth. This situation changed only with industrialisation. Mills suggested taking a closer look at the contemporary economic elite in order to find out exactly how the situation had changed. Accordingly the following characteristics were prominent: traditionally, great wealth had always been located on the East Coast. Furthermore, the super-rich were predominantly white and male. Only in recent years had the United States witnessed the influx of millionaires in the higher economic ranks of society from its Southern States. Mills also discussed activity; the findings showed that it was not true to speak of the economic elite as just a ‘leisure class’ (Thorstein Veblen) or to regard the rich as just ‘coupon clippers’. On the contrary: most of the rich actually did work. Yet to derive from this that great wealth could be accumulated just through hard work and a Protestant spirit is not an appropriate assumption. Only a position within the higher ranks of the bureaucratic power structures or on the board of directors of leading industrial corporations puts one into an elite position. Those in command at the top did not really have to be enterprising; it was sufficient to use one’s strategic position. With the ‘Black Friday’ in 1929 and the Depression a radical change came about which contributed to abolishing the old-style entrepeneurial capitalism. The old unorganised capitalism did not work anymore and had to be replaced by a highly organised welfare capitalism in which state intervention in the economy played a prominent role. The politics of the New Deal changed the corporate rich. The new corporate elite consisted of people who now had to oversee entire industrial branches. Also they had to deal with state intervention and the political directorate. The influence of politics on the economical realm was felt at every level. But what was really new in Mills’ analysis of the power elite was the appearance of the military (1956: 171–224). Mills explained this emergence through the main events of modern history in the 20th century: World War I, but even more significantly World War II and the Cold War. In particular, Mills discussed four aspects of the recent developments. First of all, the international system had dramatically changed; in a very real sense, the two superpowers relied much more on each other than in any other point in time. Any real conflict between the two powers would have had dramatic consequences.


Secondly, the international scene was very much determined by military aspects. Mills spoke of the ‘military definition of reality’. From this situation a third aspect arises, a ‘natural condition’ which treated war as a realistic alternative. Fourthly, this situation eventually led to the paradox that there are no victors in a nuclear war. All four points had disastrous consequences in terms of home affairs: almost all conflicts on the home ‘front’ would necessarily be treated as belonging to the international condition. But not only had the international conditions changed, the military apparatus itself also underwent a change. According to Mills, the military apparatus could be compared to the functioning of a large corporation. The only difference that he saw was that the recruitment of the military’s personnel did not work on the basis of co-option – as in economic corporations. Rather the recruitment took place through a selection process determined by military academies. It is through military schools and training that the civil dimensions of human beings were aborted and a military thinking was encouraged. Mills found it particularly worrying that this kind of thinking and this kind of personnel – which in America’s past has always been subordinated to the civil political aspects – now had become a part of the power elite itself. Institutions were at the very heart of economic and military elites; and the same applied to the political realm (1956: 225–68). Yet where as in the past the political elite was the ‘spearhead’ of the nation, the political directorate now had to share the power with the economic and the military elite. Mills criticised views which maintained that Congress was highly representative of the political decision making process. According to the critical analyst, nothing could be further from the truth. Mills did not identify the pluralistic decision-making process with the entire American decision-making process. He saw Congress rather as dealing with decisions on the middle level of power. The real ‘big decisions’ were made within the executive branch of government. For Mills the balance had shifted away from Congress towards the Presidency – it was this shift which for Mills revealed the clearest sign of the radical change that had taken place. Yet Mills’ entire analysis would remain somehow void, if one would not take into account the polarisation process between the power elite and the powerless mass society (Mills, 1956: 292–324). Now, how exactly did Mills perceive the difference between the two?

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To answer the question Mills referred back to a distinction first made by the American pragmatist and radical liberal, John Dewey, who differentiated between a ‘public’ and ‘mass’. The word ‘public’ stood for all kinds of voluntary associations communicating on an equal level with each other. Mills went a step further and applied this context to the early American republic. What he saw at work until the Civil War was a relatively fair and open exchange of ideas. With the rise of large scale social institutions this public slowly eroded and was replaced by a ‘mass’ society. According to Mills, a mass society was a society in which equal levels of communication no longer existed and where the active involvement of the citizen was discouraged. In a mass society the individual was at the receiving end of (mainly broadcast) communication. Large institutions replaced this open and fair dialogue; the media began to determine ‘public’ life. With it the power elite was not only in a position to determine their agenda but through using the media they were even in a situation to influence the ‘public’ from the ‘top down’. Applied to American circumstances, the system of social stratification looked even bleaker compared to the picture painted in White Collar: at the top we find a tripartite power elite consisting of the mighty and powerful of the economic, military and political institutions; in the middle we see some segments of the middle class striving to reach the top of the social hierarchy; at the bottom we find the mass of the middle and the working class – not in a critical class conscious state, but rather as an apathetic mass. Almost needless to say – C. Wright Mills had no illusions about future social emancipation. Even the rhetoric of liberalism degenerated into the rhetoric of legitimation. The sociological muckracker C. Wright Mills quoted the muckraking poet Archibald MacLeish: ‘In the old days freedom was something you used … (it) has now become something you save – something you put away and protect like your other possessions’ (1956: 334). In America, freedom had become something which one would not use, but something which one would rather inhabit. In the beginning of this chapter Mills has been referred to as a muckraker in the sociological establishment. Yet it must be said that he only became a true muckraker with the writing of The Power Elite. Also, it must not be forgotten that even in his most radical work Mills never ignored the sociological classics. Weber and Marx in


particular (less so Durkheim, Simmel and Tönnies – although parallels can also be detected) remained an inspiration for his work. The same could be said for the high esteem in which Mills held modern American sociological classics such as Thorstein Veblen and Robert and Helen Lynd.

10 Dissecting the ‘Fine Distinctions’ in America’s System of Social Stratification: Richard Sennett and Jonathan Cobb

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: Karl Marx, Max Weber, Alexis de Tocqueville, Thorstein Veblen, C. Wright Mills. Model/paradigm(s): system integration (as seen and interpreted through the subjective experience of the participants). Concepts: ethnic pockets, incongruity of status, relationship between freedom and dignity, credo of self-reliance, mass and elite, internalisation of class conflict/subjective dimension of class, authority and legitimacy, creation of moral symbols around work; divided self/search for equilibrium in life, individual transformation and integration. Empirical environment(s): Boston (late 1960s and early 1970s).

After World War II and the high peak of the Cold War, America’s system of social stratification began to change. The affluent American society of the 1950s and 1960s and the demographic shifts which for the first time turned American society into a real multicultural society were responsible for these changes. The new conditions were first conceptionalised properly by two sociologists from the East Coast of the United States, Richard Sennett (1943– ) and Jonathan Cobb (1946– ). Richard Sennett’s work in urban sociology and history, particularly his later book The Fall of Public Man, had been widely recognised and acclaimed as transcending the narrow boundaries of the academic field. Having 104

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studied at the University of Chicago and Harvard University, he became a professor of sociology at New York University. His cowriter Jonathan Cobb went to Columbia University and later became a researcher at the Center for the Study of Public Policy in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The Hidden Injuries of Class was the result of a long-term study conducted in Boston; it was concerned mainly with the relationship between immigration patterns and work and how this relationship was reflected in the wider American class structure (Sennett and Cobb, 1972). In Boston, most of the immigrants originally came from rural areas in Europe – in particular Ireland, southern Italy and Eastern Europe. The first generation of immigrants lived mainly in so-called ‘ethnic pockets’ – areas which were predominantly inhabited by people of the same ethnic origin. New waves of immigrants posed a threat to these established ethnic pockets. In response to this challenge stereotypes arose: older immigrants looked down upon the newcomers and ethnicity became a means of preserving some sense of common origin and identity. Yet, with ever new generations of immigrants arriving, this response was no longer effective. Immigrants who had managed to establish themselves moved out of the city to the suburbs – thereby moving into the ranks of the middle-class. Yet, the children of these relatively successful first-generation immigrants felt insecure in these new surroundings. They felt that they were living between two worlds – that of the high expectations of their parents and what they themselves could actually achieve. To be sure, the incongruity of status stemmed on one side from the gap between the education that was paid for by the parents, the youngsters’ own expectations and the tools actually gained from that education which necessarily provided the feeling of being in control of a situation, particularly in the workplace. As a matter of fact, most of the second-generation immigrants did not regard the work experience as liberating; rather they saw their chances as being somewhat restricted according to their class. The relationship between freedom and dignity thus became an issue. Yet, as Sennett and Cobb rightly remarked, in order to understand the American system of social stratification, one must understand more concretely how the ‘tools of freedom (could) become sources of indignity’ (1972: 30). To address this question the authors argued in a two-step approach,

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‘The Sources of Injury’ and ‘Dreams and Defenses’, before expounding on their findings more broadly in the last chapter of the book. The authors singled-out the American credo of self-reliance as one of the significant roots of injury (1972: 53–67). According to the authors, confidence and self-interest were not ‘invented’ in the modern world. Sennett and Cobb hinted towards the same contradiction that had previously been highlighted by C. Wright Mills (but had originally been introduced by Thorstein Veblen): this peculiar American individualism stemmed from the independent farmer and the small businessman; in contrast, modern corporate America with its distinctive technological features was a very different society. Where in the past individual performance was still of some importance, modern production was based solely on social performance and – as Marx had stressed – abstract labour. To gain deep inner-satisfaction and self-esteem from abstract work was actually impossible. In this respect the authors referred to the distinction of ‘mass’ and ‘elite’ – yet in a slightly different fashion to their predecessor C. Wright Mills. Sennett and Cobb referred less to forms of communication, but instead applied the two concepts to the realm of the work-sphere: ‘ “Mass” … refers to the kind of work where people do not feel they can express enough that is unique in themselves to win others’ respect as individuals; “elite” … refers to people who have become so complex they must be treated as special cases’ (1972: 74). The researchers concluded: ‘Overlying these distinctions is a morality of shaming and self-doubt’ (ibid). A system in which everybody was ‘… subject to a scheme of values that tells him he must validate the self in order to win others’ respect and his own’ (1972: 75) and in which abstract labour was the central feature, conflict necessarily had to arise. Yet, as the researchers rightly concluded, the conflict was not externalised and expressed as class consciousness and class conflict (as predicted by Marx); rather it was internalised – and from this internalisation it was but a small step to justifying social inequality. ‘(T)he search for respect is thwarted; the individual feels personally responsible for the failure; the whole attempt accustoms him to think that to have individual respect you must have social inequality’ (ibid.). Sennett and Cobb rightly suggested that this internalisation did not render class conflict non-existent, rather it extended social inequality into the late modern 20th century. The authors referred to Marx and


Weber in their attempt to conceptualise this change: while Marx conceived of class and class conflict as a matter of power relationships whereby the workers had no control over the means and the ends of production, Max Weber, speaking about power in more sophisticated terms, introduced the new concept of ‘authority’. The new concept of ‘authority’ addressed the problem of the high degree of acceptance among workers; it described why the working class did not rise-up and rebel; in other words it described ‘the transformation of power into legitimate rule’ (1972: 77). The idea of ‘legitimacy’ became thus crucial to the understanding of the silent worker: that which one granted to the powerful, one had to deny for oneself. The psychology of the modern American worker could thus be described in terms of the internalisation of class conflict: ‘People would take responsibility for their own alienation’ (1972: 95). The result of the internalisation of class conflict was, according to the authors, ‘a class system going into hiding’ (1972: 150). In their study the authors thus again confirmed the view – first voiced by Karl Marx and Max Weber and later elaborated upon by C. Wright Mills – that there could be objective class conflict without class consciousness. But Sennett and Cobb went beyond such perceptions: in taking the impact of social conditions and social pressures on the individual seriously, they were in a much stronger position to discuss the subjective dimensions of class. Hence, it would be justified to talk of a radical paradigm change: from conceptualising class from a standpoint of the objective forces to analysing the subjective dimension of class. For the first time, the concept of ‘false consciousness’ was seriously questioned and deconstructed. As has been stressed, working class people who were not successful, were forced to rationalise and legitimise their own position in America’s system of social stratification. Yet as Sennett and Cobb observed, this meant two operations:

Class society takes away from all the people within it the feeling of secure dignity in the eyes of others and of themselves. It does so in two ways: first, by the images it projects of why people belong to high or low classes – class presented as the ultimate outcome of personal ability; second, by the definition the society makes of the actions to be taken by people of any class to validate

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their dignity – legitimations of self which do not, cannot work and so reinforce the original anxiety. (1972: 170f ) Hence the workers were in a ‘no-win’ situation. Whatever their thoughts were, their position in the work place would not enlighten them. Rather their class situation would lead them to fraught conclusions – resulting in reinforcing and prolonging the unjust system. In other words: what was objectively wrong, could not be corrected on a subjective level. As has been stressed, the workers were not in control of their own environment, yet in order to function properly one still had to make sense of the situation. Only one solution remained – to give meaning or to ‘create moral symbols’ around one’s work. Yet, as Sennett and Cobb tried to demonstrate with reference to the work of C. Wright Mills – and indirectly to Thorstein Veblen – even this last ‘resort’ was inadequate. The meaning of work had been diminished. Most jobs had nothing to do with craftsmanship and skill; in modern times workers simply performed routine and rationalised tasks. Furthermore, while the early distinction between blue and white collar work made some sense, no such distinction remained valid: today every employee is subject to order and has to submit to standardised performance. Technology in particular has been responsible for the degradation of work. It appeared to be no contradiction but rather an irony that modern work required better education when work itself had become less demanding and less creative or no longer required imagination. So why then did educational credentials and qualifications still hold such importance? The answer, according to Sennett and Cobb, was that they served to create ‘moral symbols’ around work. These moral symbols served two purposes: it made it possible to rationalise one’s own position in the work place and thus prolonging and reproducing social inequality through a false rationalisation. It was not open class conflict that took place but rather internalisation. Yet it would be wrong to talk about this process as leading to a considered dichotomy. Sennett and Cobb were very careful not to extenuate the workers’ dilemma through theoretical means. Rather they held on to values that – surprisingly enough – stemmed from the enlightenment tradition: ‘Class is not … a system that forces people


to become schizophrenic. These divides in self are rather a response that occurs because men are greater than the system they live under’ (1972: 210; italics A.H.). In other words, the divided self was not an indication of submission but was interpreted rather as a means to maintain an equilibrium in life. The workers could in fact show love and affection, but because of their situation they could not show it openly; it was shown in other, almost perverted forms, such as the cult of masculinity or the emphasis on being tough (1972: 217). Sennett and Cobb knew that this system of social stratification could not prevail for long if the system itself did not offer hopes of upward mobility. The very fact that there were people higher up the occupational ranks demonstrated that there was in fact hope and that individual freedom to determine one’s own life could be achieved. A list of the most desirable jobs showed that certain jobs were regarded as highly prestigious – not simply because they were better paid, but because they allowed more autonomy and hence more freedom on the job. The top ranks were, among others, occupied by: supreme court justices (rank 1), physicians (2), nuclear physicists (3.5), scientists (3.5), State governors (5.5), college professors (8), lawyers (11), diplomats (11), dentists (14), architects (14), priests (21.5), airline pilots (21.5), bankers (24.5), and sociologists (26). The least prestigious jobs were: night watchmen (rank 77.5), coal miners (77.5), restaurant waiters ( 80.5), garbage collectors (88), street sweepers (89), and shoe shiners (90) (1972: 221–5). As the listing showed, prestige did not necessarily go hand-in-hand with the higher income or more power to control others; rather it was the power to define that which was crucial to the order of ranking – hence the high rankings of ‘interpretative functions’ on the scale: teachers, professors, dentists all scored highly. Sennett and Cobb went even further in their interpretation of the available data. For them, the above mentioned high ranking professions not only allowed freedom on the job, but also meant that power could be exercised with a minimum of coercion; they could use ‘… the kind of power that would permit … to carry out Nietzsche’s injunction to unite love and power’ (1972: 229). In other words, what appeared to be almost a split in personalities in people who took on jobs ranked within the lower ranks of the professional and occupational scale, was absent in the higher ranks – the self was no longer divided.

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In the last chapter, the authors discussed the broader implications of their findings: in what kind of society did Americans live? A society that promises upward mobility, even autonomy through education, but which at the same time asks the majority of the working people to tolerate a system in which social inequality consistently neglected the demands of autonomy? In particular Sennett and Cobb took issue with Alexis de Tocqueville: Tocqueville, after all, posed the prospect of an America without classes – an ‘equality of conditions’ – yet one where people still remained restless unto death, forever seeking to find some manner of living in which they felt authentic, worthy of being respected, dignified. Equality of conditions, he wrote, does not dampen the evils of individualism; to the contrary, he thought in America equality would lead to an increase in individual anxiety and self-doubt … (I)n this, Tocqueville created a picture of status insecurity outside the boundaries of class analysis. (1972: 257) Sennett and Cobb demanded a more critical attitude. In their view ‘America has not … become a society where an equality of conditions prevails, and Tocqueville’s psychology of personal worth has come to have its uses in maintaining inequality and productivity along class lines’ (1972: 258). It was not that the striving for material wealth was the deciding factor, rather: (i)n addition to the old material incentives, the striving to become a developed, and therefore respectable, person is an incentive that keeps men consuming and working hard. The goal now for most individuals is not to possess, to own, to wield power; instead, material things are aids to creating an inner self which is complex, variegated, not easily fathomed by others – because only with such psychological armour can a person hope to establish some freedom within the terms of a class society. (1972: 258) To be sure, Sennett and Cobb were arguing one enlightenment tradition (Marx) against another (Tocqueville). It was indeed Marx, the enlightenment philosopher, who maintained that the liberation from oppressive class conditions served only one purpose: to free


the individual human being from alienation; but it was Tocqueville – no less an enlightened thinker – who perceived of modern society as one of equality – an equality where the drive to be distinct would be the cause for more individualistic forms of behaviour. In Sennett and Cobb both positions struggled with each other. In a cunning way, the two critical observers actually agreed to some extent with Tocqueville. Was it not true that individualism and internalisation was common in the United States? Yet it was also true that their findings confirmed and reinforced some of Marx’s views. This is not to say that the class conflict via class consciousness would lead to revolution; rather Marx’s views were confirmed by another finding: When the structure of society appears as permanent or beyond human control, when what human beings have created comes to seen immutable, ‘natural’, transformation becomes individualised. How you are going to interpret the world moves to the front of consciousness, how you can transform it in accordance with your needs ceases to be a real question. This is the context in which all questions of personal and social legitimacy occur. American society is characterised by an appearance of permanence as a system, but by a reality of permeability by individuals. (1972: 271) As the last quote shows, Sennett and Cobb were the first sociologists to address the question of why the American system could remain so stable while all this conflict was still inherent to American society. Obviously, some integrative mechanisms worked.

11 Maintaining the Equilibrium of Freedom and Order: Talcott Parsons’ Resuscitation of Functionalism

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: Structural Functionalism; Max Weber, Emile Durkheim, Gaetano Mosca, Alexis de Tocqueville. Model/paradigm(s): Modern Western society, USA. Concepts: differentiation, system and sub-systems, integration, equilibrium, stability and consensus (through norms and institutions), occupational structure, status (as opposed to class), functional aspects of power (authority), kinship system, citizenship; modernisation. Empirical environment(s): USA (post World War II).

While Richard Sennett and Jonathan Cobb were the first sociologists to address the question of how individuals could justify their role in America’s socially stratified society on a personal level, they were not the first ones to consider the relationship between freedom and order. It is Talcott Parsons who deserves the full credit for having put that question on sociology’s agenda. Jeffrey C. Alexander has described Talcott Parsons (1902–79) as a ‘true peer of the classical founders’ (Alexander, 1982, Vol. 4: XXV). This judgement surely refers to Parsons as the great synthesiser, mediating between classic sociological thought and more contemporary attempts to understand and explain the functioning of modern societies. But Parsons did not only popularise classic European sociological thought (i.e. his first translation and edition of Max 112

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Weber’s writings on the Protestant work ethic), he also became famous for being a great theorist in his own right. His theoretical efforts are still considered to be milestones in the development of sociology in general and social theory in particular. Parsons’ view became so influential that it dominated American sociological theory and practice for almost two decades (in the 1940s and 1950s) and it was through Parsons that Harvard University’s sociology department became the third biggest after the University of Chicago and Columbia University. In reviving the European classics and in reinterpreting them for his own theoretical purposes, Parsons focused on the question of how society came about in the first place. This question necessarily led to the second question, that of how was it possible that the United States maintained an equilibrium of freedom and order while other societies failed to do so. The main answer to both questions is that it was norms and values that held society together and helped the United States to maintain both freedom and order. Here Parsons quite obviously relied heavily on Durkheim and Max Weber. While Durkheim provided Parsons with insights into the functional requirements for social systems in general, the Weber-link hinted towards the more detailed and finer aspects of social stratification. In contrast, Karl Marx’s contribution to social theory was seen as marginal and relevant only in terms of theorising conflict. In order to analyse the United States’ system of social stratification in the context of society’s functioning as a whole, one question in particular had to be answered: how was an equilibrium of freedom and order possible in a country where social inequality and conflict were far from being absent? To find an answer in Parsons, it is not necessary to go through all of his theoretical writings. During his career Parsons also published articles and essays – in short, smaller works – in which he tried to explore and apply some of the concepts stemming from his general theory. Two essays in particular stand out, ‘Social Classes and Class Conflict in the Light of Recent Sociological Theory’ and ‘A Revised Analytical Approach to the Theory of Social Stratification’. The first essay sets the agenda by discussing what Marx had to say as opposed to what has since changed. Needless to say, this article is highly critical of Marx. The second essay is based less on an ‘ex negativo’ argument, but focuses more on what Parsons regarded as crucial concepts for analysing America’s system of modern stratification.

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In a small but comprehensive study, entitled The System of Modern Societies Parsons elaborates upon the discussions of his earlier essays and applies some of the concepts developed therein. In taking a closer look at these three publications we will not only see how Parsons’ argument developed and changed over time; it will also allow us to see that against a commonly-held prejudice, not all of his writings are merely on the level of ‘grand theory’. Some of Parsons’ theorising on the issue of social stratification developed parallel to the social reality of the United States. In the first essay on ‘Social Classes and Class Conflict’ from 1949, Parsons used the occasion of the hundredth anniversary of the publication of the Communist Manifesto to re-evaluate Marx’s contribution in light of the developments that have since taken place (Parsons, 1954: 323–35). Parsons begins by stressing that Marx’s theoretical achievement has been to emphasise the importance of the socio-economic structure of capitalism and to have shed light on the development of opposed interests and conflicts between capitalists and workers. Yet, according to Parsons, Marx never acknowledged that the issues surrounding the question of labour could be addressed in a more sophisticated way; thus Marx never took a closer look at the various social patterns that are related to work but not reducible to it. According to the critic and in opposition to Marx’s approach, the task of modern sociology consists of an ‘analytical breakdown’ which allows one to look at socio-economic performance in such a way that it is also seen in relation to the functioning of the social system as a whole (Parsons 1954: 325ff). Such an approach would of course imply the break from the emphasis on radical conflict, class and exploitation; it would mean a radical rethinking of and a re-orientation towards the interrelations between the economic system and other dimensions of the social system. By questioning the metaphysics of labour, serious sociological analysis would consequentially also shy away from any predictions on the inevitability of ‘showdowns’ between capital and labour. An analysis of the entire social system – which Parsons assumes is the task of modern sociology – would rather stress the positive role that capitalist enterprise and social stratification play in maintaining the equilibrium in modern society. Furthermore, resulting from such a radical change of paradigms, sociological theory would have to address the question of not only why people


accept the existence of a stratified society, but also how this consensus is being achieved. For Parsons this ‘problem of integrating and ordering social relationships within a social system’ is answered mainly through norms and institutions (1954: 325). But how can norms and institutions be achieved? In a nutshell the main features and benefits of modern stratification according to Parsons are that individuals are no longer part of only a one-dimensional relational scheme as described in Marx’s labour-centred vision of society, but rather, occupy a place in modern society which Parsons calls ‘the general scheme of social hierarchy’ (1954: 326). This means that work is still important; but it also means that there are many other, structurally important realms such as occupation, exchange and property relationships and that work must be seen in relation to these. This, for example, would imply an account of how an individual might be asked to perform certain tasks or to function in a certain role, and then how this particular individual would be ranked according to his overall performance. Parsons does not stop at individual performances; for him the shifts that occurred in modern occupations are also crucial to the understanding of how modern industrial society works as a whole. Parsons particularly highlights the differentiation of tasks, the division of labour and the modern forms of hierarchies within large-scale organisations. Of direct relevance are also kinship systems. Here things have changed dramatically; the size of family units has been reduced to core families, i.e. families that consist only of parents with one child or two children. As Parsons explains, the modern system of social stratification cannot function without this kinship system and its particular links in other social realms: A class may … be defined as a plurality of kinship units which, in those respects where status in a hierarchical context is shared by their members, have approximately equal status. The class status of an individual, therefore, is that which he shares within the other members in an effective kinship unit. (1954: 328) Parsons concludes than it is indeed through families that individuals are tied to the class system: We have a class system, therefore, only insofar as the differentiations inherent in our occupational structure, with its differential

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relations to the exchange system and to property, renumeration, etc. has become ramified out into a system of strata, which involve differentiations of family living partly on income, standard of life and style of life, and, of course, differential access for the younger generation to opportunity as well as differential pressures to which they are subject. (1954: 329) After having highlighted the link between modern individualism, the kinship system, and the class system, Parsons returns once again to the question that preoccupies him, that of the relationship between social stratification and stability. Parsons lists the socially integrative mechanisms and orders which keep conflict in the socioeconomic realm at bay (1954: 329ff). The first mechanism is that of competition, competition that works through a differentiated and sophisticated system of awarding prestige. Parsons reminds us however, that there is also equality of opportunity, so that the competition for prestigious jobs and occupations is principally open to all competitors. The second mechanism is a degree of discipline and authority and it is in this context that the question of wilful acceptance and voluntary submission arises. In close relation to the second there is a third mechanism which is the issue of the strategic advantages of the system, advantages which can be used to one’s personal benefit. Here Parsons stresses that in modern societies and particularly in democratic systems, the possibility of profiting from such strategic positions is relatively limited, as the accountability in modern democracies necessarily limits the extent of personal advantage seeking. He argues that Marx’s point about capitalists on the capitalist class was still valid, but ‘needs to be broken down’ in terms of modern forms of democratic control (p. 330). Here Parsons obviously refers to a point he made earlier, where he criticised Marx for looking only at one dimension, i.e. labour and not addressing all the other aspects of modern democratic systems. Parsons’ fourth point is the growth of different cultures with their particular attitudes and ideologies, which stands in close proximity to the next point which is that these different cultures stand in a relationship with and must therefore be seen in the context of the kinship system as subcultures would be a direct result of this. Finally, Parsons stresses that although it is true that there is no absolute equality of opportunity


in occupational systems, attempts can be imagined that would balance out inequalities, socially ‘inherited’ or attained through the occupational system. Here Parsons also distinguishes between different societies: while European societies seem to struggle more with inherited inequality – not at least perpetuated and prolonged through the existence of pre-capitalist features – the same does not hold true for American society, where the political system in place got rid of feudalist or quasi-feudalist structures. This last point is of particular importance and seems to encapsulate the intention of this first essay on stratification, as it is only in the American context, a context in which the inheritance of class features is no longer obvious, that Parsons is able to criticise Marx and emphasise the positive functions of stratification. In a second essay entitled ‘A Revised Analytical Approach to the Theory of Social Stratification’, Parsons lays his cards fully on the table. It is in this essay that we find a complete formulation of Parsons’ theory of social stratification (1954: 386– 439). In particular, Parsons reasons that any attempt to come to terms with social stratification will have to address two particular aspects of social action which are crucial to thinking about society as a whole – goal attainment and values. While goal attainment refers to the observation that all social action is linked to the achievement of certain objectives, the valuational aspects refer to the fact that human beings constantly define themselves and their action in relation to and with reference to others, and vice versa, individual performance and social actions of individuals are also constantly evaluated by others. These basic insights are of even greater importance when linked to three further concepts that Parsons introduces: power, authority, and status. Thus power is defined as ‘the realistic capacity of a system-unit (in the Parsonian language of systems this is the individual human being, A.H.) to actualise its “interests”’ (1954: 391). What Parson is trying to say here is that there might be differences between the ideal position within the ranking order and the real position the individual finds himself in. Real power would involve the means to achieve the desired higher position. Distinctively, authority is defined as an aspect of power; ‘it is the institutionalised power over others’ (1954: 392). Authority also includes the legitimate rules which individuals accept in a given situation. As Parsons explains, legitimate rules and authority are established through

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interaction, or to be more precise, through a ‘continuous interplay’ between actual ‘“performance” and “sanctions”’ (1954: 392). Finally status indicates the role that the individual plays; the concept of status refers to the more established form that results from continuous interaction and interplay. It is, in short ‘a system of standards’ that has developed over the time, a system that allows individuals to judge others and to be judged by others on the basis of aspirations and performance. Parsons warns of the difficulties and complications that would arise if one attempted to apply the theory as outlined above to the empirical world. Concrete structures and circumstances might not exactly follow every aspect that has so far been discussed. Parsons reminds us that they are ‘frames of reference’, Weberian ‘ideal types’ so to speak (1954: 399f). Only the discussion of concrete cases will determine finally the true significance of a given system’s social stratification. The second problem that Parsons mentions, concerns the links and complex relationships that might exist between subsystems and the system as a whole. Again, the same applies whereby only the concrete investigation will reveal how these complex relationships relate to each other. The problem is an obvious one: we are dealing not only with three different levels, i.e. the role of the individual, the interactive system in which the individual finds himself in – be it the family or the work situation – and the many possible sub-systems of society i.e. occupational, governmental units. In addition, these three levels must be dealt with in relation to power, authority and status; they are furthermore linked to value systems, etc. (1954: 400ff). Parsons faces a dilemma here in that with his attempt to identify the many dimensions of the socially stratified society, he has in essence identified too many. What first seemed to be a legitimate criticism of Marx’s one-dimensional approach, now becomes the other extreme of a complexity beyond grasp when Parsons suggests up to forty different levels of analysis that have to be taken into account when analysing socially stratified societies. A stage has been reached where Parsons had ‘filled in the boxes’ (E. P. Thompson), but made it impossible for a reader to see the wood for the trees (1954: 412–15). In the end, it seems even more absurd that the same complexity that Parsons sets out to analyse turns against the analysis itself. The observations and brief empirical glimpses and


illustrations that Parsons uses to demonstrate the usefulness of his concepts in a highly differentiated society such as the American one, show – after an impressive tour de force – only thin if not to say disappointingly banal results. Thus, Parsons tells us that the American family has developed into the conjugal family that is now more isolated than ever before and that this relates directly to the changes and requirements of the modern occupational structure. He further tells us that there is an unequal relationship in gender relationships within the family as well as in the workplace. Parsons also observes that because of internal differentiation of occupational roles, American society has a higher mobility rate. He further observes that ethnic belonging tends to diffuse solidarity at the workplace and that groups of ethnic stratification are scattered within the stratification system, forming relative ‘independent “pyramids” in the more general system’ (1954: 424). Parsons also stresses that the many Protestant congregations and groups are rather loosely connected to America’s system of social stratification and that only the Catholic Church has a closer affiliation with its ethnic constituencies. Also, compared to other western societies, the American political elite or ruling class does not stand out, nor does it seem to be as isolated at the top; additionally it seems that almost no elite status can be inherited in American society. Parsons concludes by stressing that all these different aspects of American society are only loosely connected and cannot really be understood and explained in isolation or as ‘single most important factors’. In the end Parsons presents us a ‘rosy’ picture of America’ social reality: a socially stratified American society that still knows classifications such as ‘upper’, ‘middle’ and ‘lower’ (1954: 424 –36). These distinctions however should not lead the observer to assume that the main aspects of America’s system of social stratification follow these lines of distinction in a thorough way. Quite the opposite is true: in American society – at least according to Parsons – there seems to be plenty of mobility, diffused if not to say democratic power structures, a rise of the middle class with even further differentiation, and ultimately a decline of blue collar work and a decline or even a disappearance of the lower level of society. To summarise briefly: Parsons certainly had a valid point in criticising Marx for being one-sided or one-dimensional and stressing that social stratification must not be analysed in isolation. Yet it

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seems that through reminding his readers of the complexity and the many dimensions of modern societies, he overstepped the mark. His obsession with analysing every aspect of social action led him to forms of labelling that in the end seemed not to produce the results that he intended to achieve. Having said that, it would be a misrepresentation to describe Parsons solely as a sociologist who was obsessed only with grand theory, schemes and the presentation of tables. When his later writing is taken into consideration, this could not be further from the truth. In his short study The System of Modern Societies Parsons actually manages to follow a middle path between theoretical effort and historical illustrations. This study is particularly illuminating in that Parsons not only discusses the peculiarities of both American society as a whole and America’s system of social stratification, but he also illustrates through comparison the United States against other modern systems. It is here Parsons finally achieves his goal – a synthesis of his intellectual efforts. Parsons distinguishes the early modern period that developed in Western Europe from a later period where the geographical centre shifted from Western Europe to the United States (1971: 86–121). Parsons maintains that Tocqueville was the first one to reflect upon what was so different in the newly founded United States. It was not by chance that it has been called ‘first new nation’. Parsons reads Tocqueville thus as the first sociologist to describe the modern aspects of American society – aspects that distinguished it from Europe. America was ahead of Europe in that conditions were riper for the democratic and the industrial revolution than they were in Europe: America did not have to cope with old and undemocratic institutions; there were citizens instead of subjects; there was no aristocracy, no state church and no fixed connotation or old notions of what it meant to be a homogeneous nation. In terms of religion the first wave of settlers came from non-conformist groups with a history of religious dissent. The religious pluralism of Protestant sects eventually led to a pluralist conception in individual states; for example Catholic and Jewish communities were tolerated. A parallel development could be observed in different ethnic groups. After the first wave, soon people with other backgrounds (other than white, Anglo-Saxon, and Protestant) came to the United States to become American citizens. (Parsons admits though that the integration of


people of black origin still left something to be desired.) Because the land question was not an issue, as it was in Europe where feudalism left a legacy of unequal land distribution, the American system of social stratification never developed the same class schisms: free from the burden of being attached to one piece of land for a lifetime, American citizens could move about freely and at will. This freedom of movement contributed to the uninhibited development of the division of labour and the rapid development of a functioning market system. The point Parsons is trying to bring across is that the political freedom and equality that was guaranteed through equal rights and citizenship, actually helped to accelerate the process of industrialisation. It also helped to soften the rhetoric of class and class conflict. Only if we understand this relationship we can begin to understand America’s specific system of social stratification – namely that political equality has a direct bearing on the way social inequality is being discussed in the US. If every citizen is equipped with and is constitutionally guaranteed the same rights and duties, there can then be no discussion of social inequality stemming from the political arrangements. Here, Parsons clearly pointed towards the relationship between democracy and inequality. We must not imagine Parsons as being naïve in terms of denying that social inequality exists in America, he simply maintains that the spectrum of this inequality is considerably narrower in the United States than it is in Europe (1971: 115). Even if it is true that some individuals and groups are disadvantaged, this difference can be overcome by providing equality of opportunity – through education for example. In comparison to Europe, the main difference is that there is no sense of absolute differences in terms of classes and strata. Whereas in Europe inequality could be inherited through the rigid class system, in America such an absolute social difference does not exist. It is this possibility of democratic rights and institutions that can be used to improve the conditions of the socially disadvantaged and that ultimately serves to spread and maintain values and norms. It is in this context that Parsons talks about American society as not being a society with many communities (as Tönnies used the concept) but rather being a ‘societal community’ creating and perpetuating its own cultural values (1971: 98ff). When questioning how values and norms are maintained, Parsons refers directly to the political and cultural systems. It is the proximity of

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America’s political and cultural institutions which gives the American citizen the impression that they are ‘his’ or ‘her’ institutions. It is precisely the unique institutional arrangements such as the federal system that sets stringent limits upon institutions that are too mighty and powerful. Hence the Weberian iron cage is put under constant observation and democratic control. The political and cultural infrastructure of the United States also had an impact on economic development. The differentiation of tasks, the absence of a rigid class structure which consisted of two opposing forces rather than a multitude of stratified forces helped to prevent Marx’s prediction of a final class struggle from being realised (1971: 114ff). As Parsons points out, he does not acknowledge the existence of a rigid power elite as promoted by C. Wright Mills for example. Parsons points to the decentralised power structure in the US and to the fact that there is no all-embracing giant bureaucratic structure. On all levels of the political and social process, the representative system allows the American citizens to take a share in and to contribute to the decision making process – even though it might only be indirectly executed. The political and social system is thus in principle accountable, and, furthermore, allows equal access to the resources available. It is again the rights and principles which Parsons sees as alive and functioning in the United States which become jeopardised when one considers the only threat to its progress – that threat being the Soviet Union (1971: 122–8). Although Parsons agrees that the Soviet Union is certainly a modern social formation, he points to its weaknesses in that there is neither a commitment to political democracy nor a functional equivalent to federalism, or for that matter any guarantee of civil rights to be found. The authoritarian Communist Party is all there is to bind the system together. In regard to the Western European states, Parsons observes that they have certainly gained some ground but are still too class-ridden to compete fully with the more modern egalitarian United States. If there is one aspect where progress in Europe can be observed, then it is to be found in educational reforms – which at least guarantee an element of openness. But in terms of shared values that can be universalised Parsons remains sceptical. For Parsons, modernity is by no means limited to the West. Particularly the rise and modernisation of Japan is of concern to


him (1971: 134 –7). The problem with Japan though is that its value system can hardly be universalised, or imagined in other countries. In addition to that, Japan’s political system is still relatively embryonic in terms of the structure of its democratic government. Parsons is undecided on the question of the influence of Japan in the future; only one thing seems to be demonstrated clearly through the Japanese case: modernity is not a process that is limited to the Western world. In fact, quite clearly, the opposite is the case: Japanese success indicates that modernisation is becoming a truly global phenomena. Parsons is not referring here to any imperialist notion of the word ‘global‘ (where Western values are forced upon another culture) but rather the voluntary acceptance of the idea of modernity (1971: 137). As for the consequences and the impact of such a modern world system on that of social stratification, Parsons unfortunately had no more to say than that he doubted that a system thus internally differentiated and pluralistic could maintain the social solidarity that was necessary to make the system function. It is indeed this last hypothesis which brings Parsons back to the questions raised by the classics: what arises as a result of with conflict (Marx, Weber, Simmel); what is it in the end that holds society together (Durkheim and Tönnies); and what will be the future of accountable democracy (de Tocqueville)?

12 From ‘Black Nation’ and ‘Black Bourgeosie’ to ‘Urban Underclass’ – the Sociology of African American Communities: W. E. B. Du Bois, Franklin E. Frazier and William J. Wilson W. E. B. Du Bois

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: G. F. W. Hegel, Karl Marx, Max Weber, Heinrich von Treitschke, Adolf Wagner, Gustav Schmoller, William James, George Santayana. Model/paradigm(s): African American communities, African diaspora. Concepts: The ‘educated tenth’, double consciousness, the colour line, the South, ‘race’, civil rights. Empirical environment(s): USA, Africa.

To speak of ‘black sociology’ with reason and conviction, one must begin by examining the efforts of W. E. B. Du Bois. Du Bois became not only the first one to think about the black communities in the United States in sociological terms, but the first black scholar to enter into this arena. It is mostly this pioneering feature and less so any theoretical sophistication and elaboration that Du Bois is known for; in fact, much of his work remained rather descriptive and conceptually underdeveloped. It was only later, mainly through the efforts of E. Franklin Frazier and William Julius Wilson, that the sociology study of African American Communities achieved the status of conceptual distinction. In what follows, the pioneering work 124

W. E. B. Du Bois, Franklin E. Frazier & William J. Wilson 125

of W. E. B. Du Bois will be examined before adressing the work of Franklin Frazier and that of William Julius Wilson in particular. W. E. B. Du Bois (1868–1963) grew up in New England, but it was in the South at Fisk University, Tennessee where he first received a classical European Bildung. Greek, Latin, German, as well as theology, natural sciences, philosophy and history were part of the curriculum at Fisk. This was also the first time that Du Bois was exposed to the life of the black community in the Southern United States. It seems that this combination of black Southern life and classical European education marked Du Bois’ future path. In 1888 Du Bois became a student at Harvard University where he polished his knowledge of philosophy and history under the tutelage of William James and George Santayana. University education led the advancement of African Americans usually through philosophy and classic studies rather than through a modern sociological lens and imagination. Du Bois’ notion of the ‘educated tenth’ certainly stems from this kind of an equally classic-led education at Harvard and an equally classical apprenticeship at Fisk. It was the elitist emphasis of classical education that led to Du Bois’ decision to go to Europe. For almost two years Du Bois was a student at the Friedrich Wilhelm Universität in Berlin. He sat in seminars of the German nationalist historian Heinrich von Treitschke, listened to lectures of Adolf Wagner, a political economist, and Professor Schmoller, an economist. Du Bois also met Max Weber, yet this encounter seems not to have had a deeper sociological influence on Du Bois; after his return to America there was nothing to suggest a renunciation of the notion of the enlightened ‘educated tenth’. His doctoral dissertation The Suppression of the African Slave Trade, for example, indeed contains critical elements of analysis, but social and political conflicts were still explained in terms of character rather than society (Du Bois, 1986: 1–356). Furthermore, where ethnic conflict was concerned, Du Bois clung to questionable European traditions as is clear from one of his early essays that carries the revealing title ‘The Conservation of Races’ (Du Bois, 1995: 20 –7). Du Bois’ shift towards sociology only emerged later, when he became a researcher at the University of Philadelphia. It was in Philadelphia that Du Bois could study the largest black community in the East. Working on this project made it possible for him to combine intellectual interest with his previous subjective experience

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of living in a black sorrounding. The Philadelphia Negro was a distinguished study in that it constituted the first empirical sociological study of a large black community (Du Bois, 1999). The study established that extreme social inequality was the dubious achievement of capitalist development. African Americans were freed from slavery only to enter another form of social stratification and degradation. In his study Du Bois shows that black struggle for acceptance was far from over, and in fact had only changed in form. In analysing the system of social stratification, Du Bois’s focus is on the uncivilised attitudes that exist in modern American society rather than an analysis based on the problems of capitalist relationships in the sphere of production, and this particular focus serves as a warning and reminder of the importance of maintaining the standards of civilisation. Du Bois continues to give credit to what he sees as the power of enlightenment – as if modern capitalism were just a misunderstanding, and that modern society could repel it simply by appealing to common sense. In the end The Philadelphia Negro certainly deserves credit for its exhaustive empirical material, yet it lacked the conceptual elaboration of a Marx, Weber, Durkheim, Simmel or Tönnies. The same can be said for Du Bois’ other studies of the period (Du Bois, 1978). Most of his smaller sociological writings focus on the problems of poverty, ignorance and social degradation. Du Bois’s definition of sociology was that it should serve merely as a descriptive tool for empirical purposes; it can almost be interpreted as a kind of ‘stock-taking’ – as Du Bois’ obsession with encyclopedias and encylopedic knowledge confirms. The underlying purpose is of course the enlightenment idea promoted by the ‘educated tenth’ – of which Du Bois himself was a part of. To illustrate this point with one example; in ‘The Study of the Negro Problem’ Du Bois describes the sociological enterprise as being made up of four steps: (1) Historical study; (2) Statistical investigation; (3) Anthropological measurement; and (4) Sociological interpretation (1978: 70 –84). This breakdown clearly illustrates that Du Bois attempted to construct concepts from ‘building up’ empirically, and had no notion of any underlying theoretical sociological concepts. For him concepts were ‘post festum’, that is, after the fact has been established. This attitude would only be challenged at a later stage in Du Bois’ remarkable career.


His encyclopedic approach would be challenged only through further political radicalisation. It is only in The Souls of Black Folk, a collection of articles Du Bois wrote for journalistic and political purposes, that he would start thinking of how to combine concept and observation (Du Bois, 1986: 357–547) This becomes particularly clear in the opening essay ‘Of Our Spiritual Strivings’ where Du Bois elaborates on the Hegelian theme of self-consciousness (1986: 363–71) Du Bois stresses here that due to the peculiar social circumstances in the United States that the black man and woman are gifted with a ‘second sight’. Because they are both, a discriminated subject and an American, ‘they see (themselves) through the eyes of others’ (1986: 364). They have no self-consciousness, but they can see themselves through the other world. To describe and to improve the situation, it would be wrong to focus solely on either physical freedom, political power and professional training. Rather, all three aspects must be thought of as referring to each other; work, culture and liberty mutually depend on each other. This description seems particularly true when discussed in the context of the disappearance of the ‘old negro type’ from the agrarian South. What has not been achieved, is the adjustment between real life and the growing knowledge of life under new conditions, i. e. the migration to the industrialised North. It is the sociological analysis of this new situation which is the purpose of The Souls of Black Folk. Differing from his previous sociological writings, Du Bois goes beyond mere description and makes an effort to analyse the double consciousness of the black man and woman, in music, learning and teaching, faith and religion. In music, it is the sorrow songs that help African Americans to deal with their miserable situation (1986: 536ff). The same is true for learning and teaching; it is through these means that black men and women become aware of the gap between the situation they are in and their hopes and aspirations (1986: 424ff). The same also holds true for faith and religion which serve as moments of continuity (in terms of preserving the memory of repression), and also as moments of protest and rebellion (1986: 493ff). With the Niagara Movement, the foundation of the magazine Crisis, his participation in the National Association for the Advancement of Coulured People (NAACP) and the organisation of Pan African Congresses, Du Bois’ again changed focus. Du Bois did

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not give up ideas of enlightenment through sociological imagination, but shifted considerably in that he focused increasingly on such values as social and political acceptance. It was the time between 1910 to 1934, the time in which Du Bois’ work had a major impact on the NAACP, that he had his most productive phase. It was during this period that Du Bois became a radical democrat who fought against all circumstances which would deny political and social recognition of black people in the United States and elsewhere. It is also the period when Du Bois was less inclined to follow a sociological rate. In terms of politics and values, Du Bois now pursued a strategy which tried to mediate between particularism and universalism: he argued particularistically when he suggested forms of organisation that would proceed along the colour line; his argument was universalistic in the sense that as a result humanity and civilisation were liberated (Du Bois, 1995, 555–70). Increasingly Du Bois also referred to experiences he had had during long journeys in Europe, the Soviet Union, Africa, and Asia (1995: 581f, 626–30, 639–82). He was especially impressed by what he saw on his first journey to the Soviet Union in 1926 (1995: 581f). It has to be said though, that these impressions did not prevent him from making critical comments about Marxism as a an analytical tool. This becomes clear in an article entitled ‘Marxism and the Negro Problem’ written for the NAACP journal Crisis (1995: 538– 44). In this essay, Du Bois hints at the peculiar dimensions of black workers which differentiate them from the white proletariat. For this same reason Du Bois was highly sceptical about communist attempts to organise the black working class. At the end of the above mentioned article we read: Marxian philosophy is a true diagnosis of the situation in Europe in the middle of the 19th Century despite some of its logical difficulties. But it must be modified in the United States of America and especially so far as the Negro group is concerned. The Negro is exploited to a degree that means poverty, crime, delinquency and indigence. And that exploitation comes not from a black capitalist class but from the white capitalists and equally from the white proletariat. His only defence is such internal organisation as will protect him from both parties … (1995: 543)


As this quote shows, Du Bois saw communism not as an end in itself and Marxism simply as an analytic tool to improve the conditions of African Americans. In other words: if Marxism could not explain the peculiar condition of black people in the United States and further, if socialist and communist organisations were reluctant to take those specific conditions into account, it was necessary to explore other alternatives. A change of circumstances might explain Du Bois’ shift from being a supporter of the Bildungsidee and a radical democrat and sociologist to becoming a fellow traveller of the Communist Party. The disappointment about insufficient advancement of black people in the United States played a particular and decisive role. In Du Bois’ view, African Americans had tried everything they could to gain recognition and acceptance: did not they fight side by side with white people in World War II to save Europe from National Socialist barbarism? Yet, despite the appeals to reason, to the norms of civilisation, to the educated elites, to the institutions of higher learning, black people still did not receive recognition; contradictions between the norm and practice of American democracy were still looming large. A second factor in Du Bois’ shift in thinking was the process of decolonisation especially in Africa after World War II. In Du Bois’ view it was the socialist countries – first the Soviet Union and later China – which were supportive of these new nation-building processes (1995: 744 –6). This stood in sharp contrast to American Foreign policy especially during the Cold War. Du Bois’ interests moved more and more towards international politics; and while he had previously simply criticised the US for its dealing with African Americans, he now criticised American foreign policy with just as much passion. To an extent, he was unaware of how his preoccupation with the rights of black people in the USA had became blanketed under the rhetoric of peace. Obviously he was not able to see how he himself as a celebrity was being used by communist countries to accuse ‘racist America’. By the late 1950s not much had remained of Du Bois, the radical democrat and critical sociologist. How did it become possible to legitimate Stalinism while at the same time hold on to the utopian idea of civilised progress? The answer to this question is that: during his lifetime Du Bois had always had a problem with Marxist theory but never had had a problem with

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Marxist praxis – at least not after he left the NAACP. For Du Bois, communist praxis symbolised the practice of enlightenment. The price that Du Bois paid was high. Leaning towards practical, actually existing communism meant a ‘reduction of complexity’: the ideal of higher education through the ‘educated tenth’ became real in educational dictatorship. Forgotten were the rich descriptions and the sociologically important analysis of the ‘double consciousness’ which had marked the period of massive change and migration from the agrarian South to the industrialised North; Du Bois had finally become a defender of the communist status quo. Franklin E. Frazier

General presuppositions and/or theretical affiliations and influences: Karl Marx, Max Weber, Robert E. Park, W. E. B. Du Bois, C. Wright Mills. Model/paradigm(s): black Bourgeoisie. Concepts: class, the new middle class, the struggle for social status/’status without. substance’, education, ‘world of makebelieve’/’world of reality’. Empirical environment(s): The African-American middle Class (1900 –60).

Franklin E. Frazier (1894 –62) was a trained sociologist and a professor and chairman of the Department of Sociology at Howard University; he also held the presidency of the American Sociological Association. Having published The Negro Family and The Negro in the United States, Frazier became widely recognised with his study of the Black Bourgeosie – the Rise of a New Middle Class for which he was awarded the prestigeous MacIver Award of the American Sociological Association. In Black Bourgoisie Frazier takes up where Du Bois left off (Frazier, 1957). Where Du Bois wrote about the colour line and its consequences (‘double consciousness’), Frazier was a critical observer of the more differentiated aspects of the colour line, i.e. where Du Bois could perceive only of the situation of black folk in terms of a manichaeistic, double-sided civilising process, Frazier became the first to conceptualise the situation of the black community in proper sociological terms. Frazier recognised the change that had taken place after black mass-migration to the North; for the first time, the black community became a part of American industry.


This change led to internal differentiation; a new politically and socially distinguished stratum emerged – the ‘black bourgeoisie’. Although Frazier never specifically mentions Marx, Weber and Durkheim, it is clear that such terms as class, middle class, economic conditions, social status, behaviour and values refer and relate to the reading of the sociological classics. But Frazier not only dealt with concepts stemming from the classical tradition; he also referred to the work of his predecessors in the United States – among them Robert Park, C. Wright Mills and W. E. B. Du Bois. Frazier’s central thesis follows Du Bois in that he argues that a double consciousness does indeed exist; yet Frazier dissents from the optimistic, forwardlooking standpoint of Du Bois in that he is far more critical: it was indeed true that double consciousness existed, particularly among the emerging black bourgeoisie; yet it was a double consciousness of an inferiority complex (1957: 67ff). According to Frazier, the black bourgeoisie lived in a ‘world of make-believe’ (1957: 25; 153–232): it thought, for example, that it could escape the dominance and disrespect of the white world by becoming successful through creating ‘Negro businesses’. As Frazier shows, such an assumption could not have been further from the truth. Although black-owned businesses existed, they were of negligible importance to the American economy; in that they simply did not employ many members of the black community. Frazier’s further arguments are presented in two steps; in both ‘the world of reality’ and ‘the world of make-believe’ Frazier tries to capture the world of the black bourgeoisie in sociological terms. In the first instance Frazier sets out to analyse the ‘material’ dimensions of the shifts that occurred within the black community (1957: 29–149). In particular, he uses Weberian concepts to describe the change that had occurred with mass migration. He describes particularly the increasing occupational differentiation, a differentiation that was based on the new class of white-collar workers and that was more prominent in the industrialised North than it was in the South. Needless to say, status and income increased as a result of occupational shifts. World War II in particular helped to accelerate this process; craftsmen, foremen and kindred workers were in heavy demand; they, together with the newly emerging service establishments (Frazier picks out as examples beauty shops, barber shops, cleaning and pressing places, undertakers, and shoe repair shops) as

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forming the ‘backbone’ of the new black bourgoisie. Education, too, became an integral part of this development. Black schools and colleges were established, followed by the devoplment of institutions within higher education (among them most prominently Atlanta University, Fisk University and Howard University). Church establishments, devoted to the cause of further black emancipation and liberal white philantrophy assisted with financial support. Political orientation also changed: while in the past most black voters gave their support to the Republican Party (the Party that conducted and won the Civil War in support of black emancipation), the new shift helped to swing the black vote in favour of the Democratic Party. Unions also began to open up; particularly the newly founded Congress of Industrial Organisations (CIO) which was more open to men and women of colour than the old craftsman-oriented American Federation of Labour (AFL). Also important were new ‘cultural’ associations such as the Order of the Elks – a middle-class organisation consisting of black businessmen – and Greek letter societies which organised black intellectuals. The last two types of organisations particularly helped to foster conspicious consumption – something that Thorstein Veblen thought was only possible for the white coupon-clippers. Yet Frazier argues that all these developments should not lead us to assume that the black middle-class man or women were in control (1957: 153ff). Frazier reminds his readers that it is still the large corporations and the political establishment which exercise the real influence and which are in control – and it is in these realms of the higher ranks that black people are hardly to be found. In other words: the new black bourgeoisie mistook a part of the new reality for the whole truth. Furthermore, a proper understanding of the true picture was thwarted through the change of values within the black community. Whereas in the past there existed something like a genteel, gentleman-like tradition, these old-fashioned values could no longer be found amongst the new black middle classes; the new capitalist spirit had outrooted whatever values and virtues existed in ‘the old days’. In short, money had replaced traditional values. Frazier uses the churches as an illustration. Whereas in the past the church addressed the questions of the meaning of life (particularly the suffering of black folks), todays congregations are somehow detached from such concerns and serve rather as a ladder to success


and as a means for receiving recognition – recognition they cannot receive from ‘white’ institutions and the powers that be. In short, ‘the world of reality’ consisted mainly of capitalist interest and desire – and the middle-classed black man and woman were becoming an integral part of it. The ‘world of make-believe’ can only be understood due to the fact that real-world shifts corresponded to it. It was the prosperity of the war economy, triggered by World War II and artificially prolonged by the Cold War, that created a trickle-down effect, an ‘elevator effect’ from which the whole society – and hence also the black community – benefited (1957: 167–73). Yet to derive from this that a real change and improvement of black–white relations were under way would be misleading. ‘Status without substance’ (Frazier) was what the new black bourgoisie believed in (1957: 195–212). In the long run, the new cultural societies of the black bourgeoisie which became the symbols of the ‘world of make-believe’ had detrimental consequences at least on two fronts: the black bourgeoisie became detached from the poorer black masses while at the same time this detachment did not lead to acceptance and acknowledgement from the white community (1957: 233ff). Frazier concluded that the new black bourgeoisie was essentially an American phenomenon (1957: 233). In its strivance for achievement, the new black middle class was as capitalist as it could be; yet in its separation from the rest of American society, it also represented America’s pathological form of ethnic relationships. The struggle for status connected both aspects with one another. Yet, as Frazier has demonstrated, it remained status without substance: the lack of a proper economic basis could barely be compensated for and the ‘world of make believe’ could hide the misachievement only for the time being. It would take a few more decades before another black sociologist could write differently about the black community – both in terms of the subject of their study and in terms of conceptual sophistication.

William J. Wilson

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: Karl Marx, Max Weber, W. E. B. Du Bois, Franklin E. Frazier.

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Model/paradigm(s): the changing conditions of African Americans and the declining significane of race. Concepts: class, system of production, plantation economy and racial caste oppression, class conflict and racial oppression, transition from racial inequalities to class inequalities, ‘the concept of freedom’, new underclass. Empirical environment(s): the African American community (1800 –2000).

William Julius Wilson (1935– ) is currently regarded as the leading African American sociologist. Wilson’s career started at the University of Chicago where he held a professorship in sociology and social policy. It was in his time at Chicago when he published the pathbreaking studies. The Declining Significance of Race and The Truly Disadvantaged. The two studies awarded Wilson celebrity status and it came as no surprise that he soon joined the African American Studies Department at Harvard University. The reasons why Wilson became such a celebrated figure can be easily identified: first of all, he stands in a tradition of ‘black sociology’, the tradition of Du Bois and Frazier; secondly, he combines a concern of African Americans with conceptual sophistication in sociology. These two points should be kept in mind when examining Wilson’s studies. The Declining Significance of Race caused an uproar when it first appeared. Reviewers and other readers mistook and misjudged the title of the book as implying that there was no longer such thing as racism. Yet this judgement could not be further away from Wilson’s intentions. Wilson’s main point was that the African American community had become differentiated; a new strata had emerged and, as a result, the separation of underclass and affluent new middle class made it harder to see the African American community as one homogeneous force (Wilson, 1978: Xf). The Declining Significance of Race also had a sub-title: ‘Blacks and Changing Institutions’. This subtitle illustrated that the African American community had to be seen in the context of a American society as a whole; after all, the civil rights campaign and the legislation which followed it, did challenge institutional racism and helped to shape and reform American institutions considerably. Thus, today’s inequality of black people must be perceived rather in terms of class than in terms of race or ethnicity.


Wilson sees his class concept as a modified version of Max Weber’s notion of class: ‘… the concept means any group of people who have more or less similar goods, services, or skills to offer for income in a given economic order and who therefore receive similar financial renumeration in the marketplace. One’s economic class position determines in major measure one’s life chances, including the chances for external living conditions and personal life experiences’ (1978: IX). In applying a Weberian concept of class, Wilson follows another, more theoretically guided path than his predecessor Du Bois. Yet Wilson also differs from Frazier in that the proper application of Weberian concepts leads to a sounder empirical basis. To appreciate Wilson’s argument fully, one has to understand his periodisation of three major shifts in the history of black people in the United States (1978: 1–23). The first phase he calls the period of plantation economy and racial caste oppression and is identical with the decade before and after the Civil War. The second phase he calls the period of industrial expansion, class conflict and racial expression; this period lasted roughly from 1875 to the end of the New Deal era. The third phase is the period which is marked by a progressive transition from racial inequalities to class inequalities; this covers the time from the end of World War II, particularly the 1960s and 1970s. Wilson hypothesises that at each of these stages of race relations were marked by ‘unique arrangements and interactions of the economy and the polity’ (1978: 3). Against a purely economistic understanding of economics, Wilson stresses the interrelatedness and mutual influence of different systems of production and politics. In everyone of the three phases listed above the relationship between economics and politics has been a different one:

In contrast to the modern industrial period in which fundamental economic and political changes have made economic class affiliation more important than race in determining Negro prospects for occupational advancement, the preindustrial and industrial periods of black–white relations have one central feature in common, namely, overt efforts of whites to solidify economic racial domination … through various forms of judical, political, and social discrimination. (1978: 3f)

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Wilson elaborates on this idea in that he merges Karl Marx’s notion of the forces of production (the material economic conditions) and the social relations of production (the legal, political, intellectual and ‘ideological’ aspects) into one concept: the system of production. With the term system of production he manages to synthesise what in Marx’s model has been separated – base and superstructure (1978: 12ff). Thus, Wilson is no longer under the Marxist spell of mechanically sorting out whether the basis determines the superstructure or whether it happens in reverse; in contrast, Wilson can now show how that a close interrelatedness between economics and politics has always existed. Thus, in the first phase of the plantation economy, public power was not only concentrated in the hands of a white aristocracy, but also relied on a legal system that corresponded to the economic imposition. The then existing system of racial stratification with no or very limited mobility resulted from this total hegemony. In the second phase, the emergence of the industrial, competitive capitalist system challenged the stasis of the plantation economy. More competitive race relations, particularly in the labour market, were the result. Things only changed with the coming of the modern industrial era and radical reforms within the political system. Particularly the civil rights legislation had a major impact on race relations. Whereas in the first phase the subordinate class positions in the plantation economy enforced the view that blacks had to be treated as inferior (a view that was heavily critisised by Wilson’s predecessor W. E. B. Du Bois), racial relations changed somewhat with the shift from a preindustrial society to an industrial one and with the emergence of a black middle class (as analysed by Franklin E. Frazier). Only in the third phase, with the coming of modern industrial society and the rise of ‘the concept of freedom’ (Wilson) did the picture change (1978: 20f). In the age of rights, class became more important than race in determining the life chances of individual black Americans; this is particularly true for the stratum of the inner city poor – hence also the concept of the underclass. It is particularly this third phase of modern industrial America which Wilson sets out to analyse (1978: 21, 144ff). It was after all the New Deal and its artificial prolongation through World War II and the Cold War which created favourable employment conditions for black people. These conditions only


slowed down in the 1970s due to the down-shift of the entire American economy. In retrospect, it seems as if the slowing-down was also in part due to structural changes – changes that again had an effect on blacks. Wilson points out that American business and production became more decentralised – ‘decentralised’ meaning that business and production moved out of the inner cities. There was also a noticable decrease in employment within manufacturing, which necessarily diminished blue-collar jobs. At the same time service industries and businesses increased in numbers. This shift from goods to services had an impact on jobs in the inner cities. The new, more service-oriented production required better training and education, a field were blacks were historically disadvantaged. Only where affirmative action programs were set up, in large corporations and in the public sector, would blacks, mostly of the middle class, succeed. In short, with the exception of a small, well-educated middle class, the black work-force faced the threat of unemployment. Inner city decay, bad schooling and education would eventually contribute to the formation of a black underclass, a class consisting of a whole generation of individuals who were no longer employable. This then is the crux of the significance of the title ‘The declining significance of race’: while in the past, in the case of the plantation economy and the transition from a preindustrial society to an industrialised society, interracial encounters were decisively shaped by the racial oppression, the picture begins to look rather differently as we approach the last quarter of this century. As Wilson concludes: ‘… it would be nearly impossible to comprehend the economic plight of lower-class blacks in the inner city by focusing solely on racial oppression … unlike in previous periods of American race relations, economic class is now a more important factor then race in determining job placement for blacks’ (1978: 120). Yet, as Wilson is well aware, the declining significance of race is not only to be explained in terms of economic class; it is also accompanied by the increasing importance of the socio-political order: ‘The main actors are basically the same – blacks and white working-class – but the issues now have more to do with racial control of residential areas, schools, municipal political systems, and recreational areas than with the control of jobs’ (1978: 121). Particularly with this last point Wilson has opened up an entire new debate – the character and nature of the phenomenon of The Truly Disadvantaged.

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In his second study Wilson discusses the policy implications of the declining significance of race (Wilson, 1987). Crucial to this discussion is the concept of the underclass as distinguished from the lower class (1987: 3–19). According to Wilson the underclass is a phenomenon that is not being captured by the term lower class. While the lower class incorporates people of heterogeneous background (individuals whose income is below poverty level, welfare recipients, long-term unemployed), the underclass consists of families who suffer from all the aspects mentioned above; yet additionally the underclass has households where the head is usually a woman and where a large number of adult males have no proper address or home. As if this was not enough, the inner-city population also suffers from the lack of social organisation. While in the past inner-city areas had neigbourhoods that, against all odds, still had a sense of community, this form of cohesion no longer exists. Solidarity is no longer a common feature amongst the individuals of the innercity underclass – the high numbers of crimes directed against people of the same underclass background serve as a valid demostration. For Wilson the situation of the underclass defies any simple logic or argument in terms of causation. He prefers instead to look at a whole range of issues that he sees related to the phenomenon of the underclass. For him, one of the most important changes occurred through the changing patterns of migration. Black people are no longer the only ones living in the inner-city; Hispanics and Asian immigration have joined. For an understanding of the phenomenon of the underclass, it is also important to consider the changing age structure; increasingly the inhabitants of the inner-city are youngsters (the median age for blacks in 1977 was 23.9 and for Hispanics 21.8) (1987: 36). As Wilson has shown in his previous study, the inner-city population also suffers from structural economic changes: the decline of blue-collar work and the shift to white-collar work, the importance of the service sector demanding skills and proper education, and the move of companies from the inner-city to the suburbs. As Wilson stresses, it seems that the inner-city population becomes permanently locked out from the mainstream American occupational system. It has been pointed out that Wilson is insecure about mono-causal effects; having said that, one thing seems to be sure: the inner-city certainly suffers from a cumulating or concentration effect, i.e. the inner city has accumulated a ‘disproportionate


concentration of the most disadvantaged segments’ (1987: 58). It also must be said that in an increasingly multicultural environment, black people only suffer more or in larger numbers because of previous historic injustice and discrimination. And while in the past black communities were held together by some form of common experience, the differentiation in the inner-city nowadays no longer permits the sharing of common experiences. For Wilson, the underclass will not disappear as a result of affirmative action programmes or programmes designed to help individual minorities of whatever background. If there is one remedy according to Wilson, it must be one that attempts at targetting the whole spectrum of problems. Consequently, a universal welfare program seems to be the only remedy. To conclude, Wilson again confirms what has been stressed many times: in the past, the situation and life chances of African Americans improved when the American economy was in a healthy state – hence individuals in the black community will do well if and when the entire economic situation improves. Yet history tells us not be too optimistic: Marx once spoke about the universal dimensions of the proletarian class. Ironically, in the American context we have gone full circle and the net-result must be a rather cynical conclusion: it is true, the underclass now demands a universal answer; yet taking the reluctance of American political culture into account, it is not assured that it will really take on the form of universal welfare. It is this bleak outlook which not only puts the underclass under enormous pressure; but also hints at the prevailing existence of class barriers in American society.

13 Back to the Future: Mike Davis and Erik Olin Wright’s Marxist Interpretations of Class Struggle in the US

Mike Davis

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: Historical Materialism, Karl Marx. Model/paradigm(s): the American working class; Los Angeles. Concepts: working class exceptionalism, integration of organised labour, division through racial conflict and religious belief, complexity of the American ‘big bourgeoisie’, militancy of the ‘petty bourgeoisie’, regional polarisation, split between ‘core’ and ‘peripheral capital factions’, ‘Californisation of politics’; reshuffling of local elites (the ‘new octopus’), political economy of land development, ‘ecology of fear’. Empirical environment(s): USA (19th and 20th century); Los Angeles (1980s and 1990s).

It is not by chance that some of the most interesting contributions to the analysis of America’s system of social stratification came from Marxists. The re-occurrence of Marxian analysis hints at the very real problem of the persistence of the class phenomenon in American society. In what follows we will look at two different approaches within Marxism. While Mike Davis’ work focused more on urban sociology; Erik Olin Wright dealt more with the entire American class structure and how it compared to that of other Western countries. In their methodological approaches the two Marxists are also quite distinct: Davis’ work owes more to traditional 140

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historical materialism, while Wright’s work belongs to a new Marxist approach called ‘Analytical Marxism’. The start of Mike Davis’ career began work as a meat cutter and truck driver. Through a scholarship from the Amalgamated Meatcutters Union Davis (1946– ) managed to get into teaching and to later launch an academic career. He first taught urban theory at the Southern California Institute of Architecture before becoming a Professor at the University of California in Los Angeles. Additionally, Mike Davis has always been a political activist. He started as a local anti-war activist, before becoming actively engaged in trade-union politics; today he is the editor of the renowned journal new left review and chief-editor of its Haymarket Series, a series devoted to the critical analysis of the United States. Two studies of Mike Davis are of particular concern to us: one dealing with the history of the American working class, entitled Prisoners of the American Dream and a second, entitled City of Quartz – Excavating the Future in Los Angeles, a critical analysis of the ‘City of Angels’. For the purpose of this study we shall briefly look at Prisoners of the American Dream but limit ourselves to its second half, ‘The Age of Reagan’, before dealing with City of Quartz. A small brochure Urban Control – The Ecology of Fear which Davis published in 1992, will help to shed more light onto the conceptual tools of his critical, urban-sociology account of Los Angeles. In the second part of his history of the American working class, Mike Davis discussed the main features of the political developments in the seventies and early 1980s in America (Davis, 1986: 157–314). The author stressed that four conditions were crucial to the understanding of America’ system of social stratification at the time: (1) that the integration of organised labour within one of the two capitalist parties (the Democracts) led to political paralysation; (2) that the working class and the middle class were divided along lines of racial conflict and religious belief (and that hence attempts at unification and solidarity were thwarted); (3) that the complexity of the internal structure of the ‘big bourgeoisie’ also had an impact on the overall constellation of classes, particularly on the episodic militancy of the American ‘petty bourgeoisie’, which again lead to disastrous political results; and (4) that regional polarisations within the federal structure were paramount and prolonged and enforced already existing problems of social and political attempts to organise (1986: 163).

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Mike Davis also analysed other shifts in American society which had a more indirect impact on the constellation of the American class structure and particularly on the working class therein. One of the remarkable developments which occurred in the late 1970s and early 1980s was the decentralised development of financial centres. Wall Street was no longer the only stock market; money markets and financial trade could also now be found in San Francisco, Houston and Los Angeles. Davis interpreted this development as a split between nationally and regionally organised capital, symbolising a split into ‘core’ and ‘peripheral’ capital fractions. He stressed in particular the emergence of southern and western capital, the socalled ‘Sunbelt Barons’ and the ‘Hollywood Cowboys’ (1986: 171ff). Yet the boom in southern California could not be explained simply by the ‘free play of market forces’; rather one had to acknowledge that it had been supported by ‘military Keynesianism’, which meant that federal money was directly responsible for expanding military enterprises, particularly in the region around Los Angeles. Not only was the military industry and their supply industries booming, oil exploration, construction, tourism, recreation, agro-business, supermarkets and real estate in particular were also expanding (1986: 181–255). The internal structure of these upcoming businesses was notably new in that they were not large corporations based on absentee ownership with interlocking directorates at the top, but rather single-family controlled enterprises, which were relatively independent on the financial and managerial levels. This independence also explained the labour-intensive, anti-union and antiwelfare attitudes of the aforementioned business sectors. In contrast to C. Wright Mills, who dealt with big business and elitist institutions in the forties and fifties, Mike Davis stressed that the newly formed power elite of the New Right consisted of ‘an alliance of entreperneurial rather than corporate capitalists’ (1986: 173). But not only did Davis hint at a newly reconstructed power elite, he also saw a geographical shift in which politics followed the material base. The ‘Californisation of politics’ (Mike Davis) was the inevitable result of changes within the American political economy. The tendency towards the ‘Californisation of politics’ explained why Mike Davis chose to focus on the vast urban landscape of Los Angeles: what could be more appropriate than to investigate the Los Angeles metropolis and its surrounding in order to understand the

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major shifts which had occurred in American society at large? Furthermore, Davis aimed beyond the community studies of the past. While Robert Park and William Burgess regarded Chicago as a model for other American urban agglomerates, and the Lynds saw Middletown as representative of the other, small town America, Mike Davis’ sociology of the Los Angeles metropolis became a metaphor for American modern life per se. As the subtitle of his study suggested, the task was to ‘excavate the future’ of America (Davis, 1990). Metropolitan Los Angeles is currently the fastest growing epicentres in the advanced industrial world. 15 million people (plus another 8 million in the near future) are living in three cities – Los Angeles, San Diego and Tijuana (1990: 6f). Demographically all three cities actually belong together and are treated as one urban zone. But not only is Los Angeles the largest urban agglomeration on the West Coast of the United States, it is also the most ethnically diverse community of the Pacific Rim. The democratic change into a polyethnic diverse community has led to a situation where ‘Anglos’ are no longer in a majority. In this respect L.A. provides a glimpse of California’s future, where Anglos will become a minority by the year 2010 (ibid.). Davis’ study focuses not only on ethnicity; class as a concept is just as important. As a matter of fact, in his account the two concepts became almost inseparably linked. What the critical sociologist observed, was the growing social polarisation that arose out of an almost obscene affluence on one side and rising poverty and a middle class in decline on the other side (ibid.). (In particular, concerning the decline of the middle-class, Mike Davis argues against the current and a popular view which sees American society as the incarnation of a middle-class society.) But how could these extreme social conditions turn Los Angeles into a zone of urban conflict and even warfare? According to the author, the answer is to be found in the reasoning that ethnic and class conflict had to be seen in the context of the remarkable absence of planning and the under-investment in public infrastructure (ibid). In an urban landscape where conflicts were already bubbling-up under the surface, such neglect could only serve one purpose: to maintain the already existing social structure and to keep the ruling class in power. This assumption necessarily led to another question: who really ruled Los Angeles? According to Davis’

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findings, it was not a power elite as C. Wright Mills had described it for the national level back in the 1940s and 1950s. Rather, Los Angeles knows no Mr. Big and no executive of the ruling class; it is controlled by a ‘polycentral complexity of elites’ (1990: 101ff). To be sure, it is a porous elite which represents the increasing internalisation of class formation. While the earlier development of the metropolis until about 1980 was led and controlled by different fractions of the Anglo-elite, Los Angeles witnessed a reshuffling of its elite in the eighties and nineties. It was not that the AngloAmerican elite lost its position completely; rather a recomposition of the elite occurred; new space was made for powerful newcomers, particularly those from the booming Pacific ‘tigers’ such as Japan, Hong Kong, South Korea and Singapore. Today, Los Angeles must be regarded as imperium and colony at the same time – ‘Imperium’ referring to the dominant role which L.A. played for the poorer parts of the Pacific Rim; ‘colony’ referring to the fact that Los Angeles itself was being ‘colonised’ through overseas investments – particularly from Asia (1990: 105). For Davis this indicates the end of the Keynesian age. A new ‘octopus’ with no checks and balances has developed, which, according to the research findings, was dominated by great land bankers and community builders who were no longer strictly ‘local’ (1990: 130ff). We here see a crucial stage in Mike Davis’ urban sociology, a stage where Marxist explanations begin to play a more prominent role – in particular the economy of land development (1990: 130ff). Yet Davis does not use Marxist methods in a crude and schematic way. Rather, he puts some of Marx’ concepts to use by applying them to new and altered conditions – thus producing a surprising outcome: the conflict of two opposed classes – proletariat and bourgeoisie – is now redefined along the lines of logic of the political economy of land. The accumulation of capital now depends on dealing with ‘real estate’. In short, class conflict had not ended, but rather is reinterpreted as a class-struggle between affluent and less affluent home owners, between fast-lane speculators and developers interested in immediate profit and in ‘slow growth sunbelt Bolshewiks’ (1990: 156ff). This is not a struggle between the haves and the havenots – this is a struggle between the ones who already own property. It is, in Davis’ terms, a class struggle in ‘Alice’s wonderland’ (1990: 212). Yet it is also a struggle which does not address the real

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questions – particularly the questions of ethnic dimensions within the class struggle. The conflict over the pace of growth somewhat camouflages the urgent questions of inner-city decay and what this decay symbolises for America’s system of social stratification in general. To address the ‘real’ issues then, Davis suggests a paradigm change. In his view – expressed and developed in a short pamphlet entitled Urban Control – the Ecology of Fear – it is no longer sufficient to conceptualise the urban world aided by concepts developed from the Darwinian perspective of the old Chicago School (Davis, 1992: 3). For his critique, Davis singles-out the urban-ecology approach of Robert Park, William Burgess and Roderick McKenzie with particular reference to their book The City (ibid.). According to the theory of the Chicago School, the urban landscape developed in five concentric circles: the centre, called ‘the loop’, followed by the ‘zone of transition’, the ‘zone of workingmen’s homes’, and the ‘residential zone’ and finally the all-embracing ring, the ‘commuter zone’. According to Davis, the Chicago School sociologists conceived of the concentric circles as following the ‘logic’ of the survival of the fittest: the further away from the inner city one lived, the better ones social standing was on the class continuum, and the better the housing conditions. Davis views the Chicago School’s scheme with some suspicion; yet he can also see that the scheme encompassed the social reality of the time – yet in an uncritical way. Davis decides ‘to take Burgess back into the future’ (ibid.) and to come up with a radically revised version of the drawing – a drawing that took into account four central features (income, land value, class and race) which all played a determinant role in the old scheme; yet Davis gives the new scheme a critical edge by elaborating on a feature of Los Angeles which he sees as both peculiar and decisive in modern times: fear. In his new scheme, re-named ‘The ecology of fear’ (Figure 13.1) Davis visualises the complex new Darwinian struggle in Los Angeles: the inner core is now re-designed as ‘homeless containment zone’, followed by an outer ring – still belonging to the inner city – called ‘drug free zone’ and ‘narcotic enforcement zone’; a third zone consisting of ‘blue collar suburbs’ and dominated by neighbourhood-watch communities and ‘gang free parks’; a fourth zone, the ‘gated affluent suburbs’ function as ‘urban simulators’ and hence feel most threatened: here


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Figure 13.1 The ecology of fear Source: Davis 1992a: (10 –11). Reprinted with permission of Open Magazine Pamphlet Series.

armed response seems to be the ‘normal’ response; the last ring consists of a ‘toxic rim’ – enclosing the entire urban landscape of the Los Angeles metropolis which obviously produces so much garbage that it has to be deposited outside of the city boundaries. In describing and illustrating his scheme, Mike Davis stress again and again the cross-over of the issues of class and ethnicity in Los Angeles. For him, class in Los Angeles is unthinkable without the ethnic dimensions. He thus adds a new perspective to the old Marxist perception of class being more important than ethnic communities. Both classes, proletariat and bourgeoisie, are perceived of

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as being of many colours and internally heterogeneous, but in Davis’ analysis remain in opposition. In other words, what Davis does, is to take Marx’s concept of class struggle with its two opposing forces and apply it once again to particular American circumstances. Where other sociologists opted for the ‘Weberian solution’ of a continuum of social classes, Davis manages to hold on to the idea of two opposing forces and to conceive thus of class struggle as a social relationship – however, this time applied to modern times and American circumstances. Erik Olin Wright

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: Analytical Marxism; Karl Marx, Max Weber. Model/paradigm(s): the American and international class system. Concepts: class struggle, class formation, class consciousness, exploitation, class as a social relationship (as opposed to class as a continuum), relation to the means of production (owner/employee distinction), number of employees (large, middle, small), relation to authority (manager/supervisor/no authority distinction). Empirical environment(s): USA, Sweden, Japan (1980s and 1990s).

While Mike Davis’ analysis represents a traditional, more historically oriented tendency within American Marxism, Erik Olin Wright (1947– ), C. Wright Mills Professor of Sociology at the University of Wisconsin and author of Class, Crisis and the State, Classes, and a collection of essays entitled Interrogating Inequality, represents a modern Marxist ‘tendency’, that of Analytical Marxism. To understand the distinctions of Analytical Marxism (not only in terms of other Marxist interpretations but also in terms of other social science approaches) and the contributions it made to the analysis of social stratification, a review of Erik Olin Wright’s general presuppositions will first be undertaken. Following on from these introductory remarks there will be an interpretation of Wright’s latest study Class Counts. It is this latest study in particular which facilitates a deeper insight into what has been praised as Analytical Marxism’s conceptually rigid ‘toolbox’. In an autobiographical account and introduction to a collection of essays published in Interrogating Inequality, Wright emphasises the importance in the differences in using Marxism in the context of a

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state ideology, or in the context of an oppositional tool in a country where capitalism has developed into a creed (Wright, 1994: 6). In the first instance, Marxism serves to prolong an ideology which is fed on repressive force, and in the second instance Marxism is seen to take on an oppositional force and a critical edge. In taking up support for this critical edge, Wright does not refer to a broad, Marxist-inspired labour movement, for although he would in principal have been its keen supporter, such a radical labour movement has no politically relevant history in America. It follows from this that Wright opts for promoting the critical path of Marxism in order to challenge the established social sciences and to use the tools it offers to analyse inequality in the United States. Wright particularly aims at safe-guarding the scientific label that Marxism was once proud of, but which has through time been much devalued – through no small means by existing socialism itself. Wright stresses that Marxism as a state ideology and as a legitimation theory has little to do with the enterprise of Marxism as a critical social science (ibid.). For him there is nothing scientific in an ideology that uses quotes of the ‘master’ discourse to prove the validity of something that exists. If Marxism is to survive, it will only do so because it represents systematic and critical analysis, analysis that presupposes an interest in empirical evidence as a guideline for the discussion of theoretical questions (1994: 8, 199ff). Furthermore, this scientific stand should be self-critical and selfreflexive in its approach; for example it should take into account that the researcher is part of the society he analyses. Wright acknowledges that ‘… our observations of anything are simultaneously shaped by mechanisms internal to the process of observation itself’ (1994: 202). At the same time Wright does not surrender completely to the relativists standpoint that the researcher’s views are wholly determined by the intellectual categories observed. For Wright, Analytical Marxism does not follow either extreme; but rather acknowledges what Robert K. Merton has described as ‘middle-range theory’, where one neither ‘deduces down’ from grand theory, nor ‘builds up’ from pure empirical evidence; i.e. the researcher uses sound theoretical concepts in order to analyse the empirical social world. Wright stresses that Analytical Marxism welcomes a pluralistic social science, for it is only the pluralism of theoretical approaches and concepts that can guarantee vitality in the

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scientific research process (1994: 208). Having said that, it is exactly within the plurality of approaches that the conceptual strength of Analytical Marxism stands out in offering the best empirical results. Furthermore, Analytical Marxism maintains that it is the specification of steps between the overall theoretical approach and its concepts that distinguishes it from other social science approaches. In other words where Parsons’ approach lost its clarity in its overconceptualised social system, Analytical Marxism does not fall into the same trap. Taking now a closer look at Wright’s latest study Class Counts, enables us to see exactly where the strength of Analytical Marxism lies in comparison to Parsons’ multi-varied view on social inequality. In Class Counts Wright opens with a clarification of some central concepts that he regards as necessary and of particular importance to the Marxist enterprise (1997: 9– 42). Class struggle is defined as ‘the practices of actors for the realisation of class interests’ (1997: 3). As a concept this is directly linked to two other concepts: class formation – the capacity to act as a collective and combining force – and class consciousness which refers to the capacity of individuals to understand their social environment. Class analysis attempts to understand the connection between the three different elements and link these concepts to society as a whole. Yet, as Wright stresses, class analysis would be inconceivable without an understanding of exploitation as the underlying impetus behind class struggle. For Wright it is precisely this concept of exploitation that distinguishes Analytical Marxism from other attempts to explain the links between capitalism and inequality. According to classic Marxism, there are two opposing classes which are dependent on each other. The Marxist view thus does not suggest the existence of a continuum of stratification but rather presupposes a deeply antagonistic relationship between the two classes. According to Wright, three features stand out in this relationship: firstly, that ‘the material welfare of one group of people depends on the material deprivations of another’; secondly, that this relationship ‘involves the asymmetrical exclusion of the exploited from access to certain productive resources’; and thirdly, that it ‘involves the appropriation of the fruits of labour of the exploited by those who control the relevant productive resources’ (1997: 10). Wright agrees that in modern society there are many other social relationships

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that are oppressive, yet he insists that not all forms of repression in modern society are of an exploitative nature where the exploiter directly depends on the labour power of the exploited. It is only in capitalist social relations that labour power is being employed in order to generate a surplus – a surplus that is generated through employing the labour force beyond the mere costs that are necessary to produce certain products. (As Wright highlights, it is exactly this exploitative relationship that has direct normative implications, i.e. the researcher is not simply studying another value-free pattern of social behaviour.) Classic Marxism maintains that there are only two crucial classes, capitalists and workers. Yet Wright is ready to acknowledge that in modern society we find increasingly a stratum that is neither on the exploiter’s side, nor on the side of the exploited. This stratum works and even uses the means of production but does not exploit any labour power apart from its own. Wright also acknowledges that, contrary to Marxist predictions, this small bourgeoisie together with the newly emerging middle class will not be eroded by class struggle and disappear. If there is one feature of 20th century modern society that has been steadily neglected by Marxists, it is exactly the persistence of the phenomenon of the middle class. Wright is well aware of this and stresses that it is in particular the many-sided picture of the middle class that needs close scrutiny; it is simply not sufficient to tag everything that does not fit in with ‘small bourgeoisie’. Wright is also aware of the fact that the middle class occupies a unique ground in capitalist production – a ground that cannot be explained in the terms of ‘pure’ forms of exploitation (1997: 19ff). As he points out, it is rather through such concepts as authority that loyalty is being ‘rented’ from. Furthermore, the capitalist’s dependency on special skills and expertise throws additional light on the unique position of the middle class. If one employs the concepts discussed in a practical empirical context, the picture has clear Weberian elements and Wright is well aware that in terms of empirical practice there is thus no real distinction between Marxian or Weberian concepts (1997: 24f; 29–37). Thus Wright has no problem in breaking down the two opposing classes into various sub-categories according to four dimensions: (1) relation to the means of production (owner/employee distinction), (2) relation to scarce skills (expert/skilled/non-skilled distinction),

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(3) number of employees (large: 10;/ middle-sized: 2–9/ small: 0 –1), and (4) relation to authority (manager/supervisor/no authority distinction) (Figure 13.2). When it comes to discussing the results on a theoretical level however, one does in fact encounter important differences within the concepts. While a Weberian approach presupposes a gradual continuum of social stratification, Analytical Marxism emphasises the relational aspects of social inequality. These differences are by no means marginal; as a matter of fact, they are crucial to an understanding of how capitalism works. It is indeed of pivotal importance whether one conceives of classes in terms of life chances in the market (Weber), or whether one conceives of exploitation as being fundamental to the understanding of a given class situation. Furthermore, Weberian class analysis limits the social scientist to addressing the distributional conflicts (i.e. market chances); Marxist analysis in contrast allows the analysis of both, distributional conflicts and production conflicts (i.e. control over labour efforts). The

Relation to means of production

Many Capitalists

Few

Small employers

Petty None bourgeoisle

Employees

Expert Skilled Non-skilled Managers managers managers managers

Expert Skilled Non-skilled Supervisors supervisors supervisors supervisors

Experts

Skilled workers

Experts

Skilled

Non-skilled Nonworkers management

Nonskilled

Relation to scarce skills Figure 13.2

Elaborated class typology

Source: Wright (1994: 24). Reprinted with permission of Cambridge University Press.

Relation to authority

Number of employees

Owner

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Marxist approach thus has the capacity to not only explain different interests but also explains why there are opposing and conflicting interests. Having briefly discussed the theoretical presuppositions and conceptual tools of Wright’s Analytical Marxism, the focus now turns to the practical implications i.e. the empirical evidence as presented in the remaining chapters of Class Counts. One of the benefits of Wright’s study is the comparative element. He compares the United States to Sweden, Norway, Canada, the United Kingdom and Japan (1997: 45ff). Applying the distinctions as outlined so far, one can clearly see that the capitalist class is of no more than 2 per cent of the labour force in any country, and if one were to take into account the small employers one could add another 4 –8 per cent to the capitalist class. Out of the countries mentioned, the United States still scores highest in this respect, yet not to such an extent that one could consider the United States as being exceptionally strong in terms of her capitalist class. In respect of what has been called the petty bourgeoisie Canada and Japan stand out as being exceptionally strong. (In Japan the petty bourgeoisie is more involved in and has a larger share of the economy than in any other industrialised country; this is also a clear indication that there is a faction that continues to resist the forces of capitalisation. In Canada it is the strong agricultural sector with its mainly family-run farms which accounts for the high numbers of ‘petty bourgeoisie’.) As far as overall numbers of employees go, all countries maintain a similar level. It can therefore be clearly established that the largest part of the labour force remain employed and is involved in dependent work. Having said this, one must acknowledge that there are necessarily variations within the section of the labour force – variations that result from the peculiar history of the political economy of each country. Thus Sweden has the largest working class and (together with Japan) scores highest in terms of number of women in the workforce. Yet it is also Sweden that has the smallest proportion of employees holding managerial or supervisory positions. The contrast here with the United States is indeed remarkable; in the US almost 35 per cent of employees enjoy some kind of authority resulting from skill and performance. These overall numbers however do not give a complete picture: in the US for example, employees who enjoy a degree of autonomy are considered to be part of the management and are therefore excluded

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from collective union bargaining. This would be unthinkable in Sweden where every employee is a member and part of the collective bargaining process. Important differences must also be noted in terms of the relationship between capital and labour. The compromise between capital and labour in Sweden, the famous ‘Swedish model’, is entirely different compared to American relationships between capital and labour. In the US, there is a much more tenuous social contract between the classes (1997: 49–52). The data also revealed some common characteristics in the countries studied: for example that women constitute the majority of working class (50 –60 per cent of the non-skilled labour force) and only a minority of them were included within the higher ranks of the labour force. It is also revealed that women are less likely to be capitalists. Furthermore, it is also a common feature of all of the countries compared, that there are fewer women included in the petty bourgeoisie category. The only finding that contradicted overriding common features is the gender gap in authority; in this respect the three English-speaking countries (the US, Canada and the UK) differ significantly from the Scandinavian countries and Japan (1997: 58ff). Another striking feature can also be distinguished in the United States – that of the relationship between ethnicity, gender and class. More people of ethnic origin can be found among the working class and are therefore disadvantaged. A crossover analysis also revealed that to a certain extent the numbers varied when linked to gender. Altogether, the data on women and/or people of ethnic origin indicates that the American working class in the 20th century is predominantly female and of ethnic origin (1997: 67ff). Wright also stressed the importance of the type of employing organisations. Not all countries had the same share of private capitalist enterprises and state organisations. From the data given, it emerges that in none of the countries was more than 42 per cent of the working class employed by the state. It also emerged that in all countries the middle class usually tended to be employed by larger corporations. It is thus justified to say that this middle class enjoyed not only more authority on the job, but their jobs were also safer (1997: 69ff). After having discussed the central features of class in the international perspective, Erik Olin Wright addresses the changes in the

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recent American class structure, between 1960 and 1990 (1997: 91ff). In particular, Wright takes on three commonly held assumptions among American Marxists: firstly that the small entrepreneur, or self-employed will be destroyed; secondly that capital will become more and more centralised; and thirdly that capitalists have an interest in employing unskilled labour rather than skilled. All three predictions were intended to lead to increasing proletarianisation of the work force. But Wright does not only take issue with the traditional Marxist view; he also challenges the predictions of postindustrialism. Post-industrialism assumes that the nature of work itself has changed i.e. that it has become more self-directed and autonomous which in turn presupposes less supervision. The changing nature of work needs less of a traditional labour force; instead it demands highly skilled personnel and well-trained managers. To address these issues properly, Wright proposes the so-called ‘shiftshare’ analysis (1997: 95ff). By this he means a detailed analysis which looks at three aspects: (1) a sectorial analysis which deals with the changing overall distribution of the labour force; (2) an analysis of the changing class structure within different economic sectors; and (3) shifts resulting from the interaction of changes in both the overall economic structure and within the different sectors of the economy. The results for the 1960s produce some support for the Marxist and post-industrial predictions in that the overall numbers of the skilled labour force increased (1997: 99ff). Yet this tendency could only be confirmed when considering the overall structure. When it came to the class-shift factor, the data did not confirm this increase; as a matter of fact, within the economic sectors the skilled labour force actually declined. In the 1970s this same trend continued, with the skilled labour force increasing, yet at a slower pace (1997: 101f). The class-shift component confirmed the post-industrialists’ view but contradicted the Marxists’ expectation in that fewer supervisory jobs were needed. The trend toward a declining working class in accordance with the third aspect of analysis also turned out to contradict the Marxists’ prediction. As Wright points out, the only Marxist prediction that was actually confirmed by the analysis was the decline of the number of skilled workers. The 1980s however, must be seen as an empirical blow to Marxist views, as both the sectorial and the class-shift analysis show that the classic working class

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was in decline, and the data further confirms the post-industrialists’ view that skilled workers were still more in demand than supervisors (1997: 102). Taking the three decades together, Wright points out that the trends do not confirm classic Marxist predictions; thus proletarianisation is not in fact on the rise; if anything, we can observe a reverse tendency towards deproletarianisation (1997: 102ff). As the core working class – skilled and unskilled – constituted roughly 54 per cent of the labour force it would be wrong to speak of the demise of the working class (1997: 103). Wright concludes that the working class is far from disappearing. Furthermore a Marxist-inspired analysis does not necessarily have to share the labour metaphysics of proletarianisation. Wright suggests that the findings have serious implications not only for the issue of social inequality but for the analysis of capitalist society as a whole: firstly, class positions become more contradictory through modernisation; secondly, instead of becoming polarised, the overall class structure becomes rather more complex. While the first conclusion appears Marxian, the second conclusion is rather Weberian (1997: 111). Having rejected a central assumption of Marxism with Marxist arguments, Wright takes on another issue that is equally as important to American self-perception – the self-employed bourgeoisie (1997: 114ff). As Wright stresses, being one’s own boss is an integral part of the American creed and is deeply woven into the fabric of the American experience. It would be wrong to assume that this notion of self-reliance is merely an ideology. Most of the American work force has emerged from a family background or at least has ties to individuals where the ethic of independent work plays an important role. In Wright’s analysis, it is therefore not surprising that Americans usually score highest in their desire to work independently and to become their own boss. According to the data available, three shifts in the self-employment patterns in this century can be distinguished. From the 1940s to 1973 the rate of self-employment declined steadily from about 20 per cent to 10 per cent of the labour force. From 1973 until 1976 the rate of self-employed people remained stable and then steadily increased into the 1990’s, boosting the number of self-employed people by 25 per cent in comparison to the 1970s (1997: 118). It

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seems that Marxism was again wrong in predicting the end of the small bourgeoisie. Wright stresses that Marx conceived of the small bourgeoisie as being a symbol of the past that would soon be overridden by full-blown capitalism and its tendency towards centralisation. While looking at the American work patterns, Wright reveals that such a view underestimates the complexity of the phenomenon. In particular Wright stresses that we have to look at the changing work patterns and the relationship to the small independent entrepreneur in light of the ever-changing capitalist economy. It becomes obvious that only one segment, namely that of the agricultural small entrepreneur is in decline while at the same time the self-employed entrepreneur in the service sector is on the rise. Both tendencies must be seen together with recent economic trends i.e. the overall decline in agricultural production and the rise of capitalist service industries. Again this shows that the Marxist argument of the erosion and disappearance of the small bourgeoisie must be refuted and that the post-industrialists’ view with their emphasis on service industries was partly right – at least when it comes to the sectorial shifts within the labour force. Furthermore, the data available also reveals that the service sector is not only increasing in the field of services such as retailing, tourism, entertainment, and restaurants, but also in manufacturing, construction and other traditionally ‘hard core’ capitalist enterprises. Wright is careful not to read too much into this trend, and while post-industrialists may essentially be correct in their arguments against Marxist views, this does not necessarily mean that in the near future everybody will work in the service sector. After having discussed Marxist and post-industrialist arguments, Wright returns to another Weberian argument, that of class permeability, or, in classical sociological terms, class mobility (1997: 149ff). It has always been maintained that it is indeed the less rigid class structure of the United States that sets it apart from other countries. However, Wright’s findings show that in all countries studied (with the exception of Sweden) the property boundary is the least permeable, while skill and authority were more likely to be open to ascendants from the lower ranks. To a certain extent this confirms the Marxist emphasis on ownership in terms of the means of production; on the other side, a good part of the Marxist argument is also rejected; there is, after all, permeability in terms of skill and authority.

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This does not mean that exploitation does not exist; but it means that exploitative relations can have many sides and that there are indeed degrees of skill and authority which could make a substantial difference for the individuals involved. In the context of ‘fine distinctions’ Wright is again ready to admit that it may be more appropriate to use the multi-layered approach within the class structure, an approach which is closer to the Weberian tradition and which looks at cultural capital and forms of habitus, including opportunities in the labour market (1997: 150). On another central feature and again in contrast to traditional Marxists, Wright considers gender inequality to be of major importance (1997: 239–370). Having said that, Wright rejects ‘absolutist’ claims that claim that gender inequality can only be explained by looking at the patriarchical structure; by the same token Wright also concedes that class cannot explain all differences – particularly not the inequality between sexes. He suggests following a middle path; and he hypothesises that gender relations provide ‘mediated linkages’, i.e. it is through gender relations that families and kinship are ‘sucked’ into the class system and become a crucial part for its continuous reproduction. Wright is particularly interested in what he calls ‘interaction effects’ where class and gender come together. The relevance is most obvious in the case of children and wives, yet Wright also lists the employed, pensioners and students as being part of this interactive process. The findings that Wright presents demonstrate that mediated class positions play a crucial role in terms of the complexity of class relations – but again this also depends on the individual country. In a multivariate comparative, Wright found for example that in the case of Swedish women the causal path between direct class location and material interests turned out to be stronger than in the case of American women where the link between mediated location and material interests was stronger. These and other findings clarify that not only is it crucial for any present or future understanding to reflect on the role and position of individuals within the class system but also how important it is to rethink such Marxist theses as ‘increasing polarisation’. After having devoted a large part of his study to the comparative study of class structures, Wright concludes with a chapter on class consciousness and class formation (1997: 373–516). He agrees that class consciousness is almost impossible to conceptualise for empirical

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research. Yet Wright found a method which at least gives some indication of the relationship between class formation and the possibility of future class struggle. Individuals were asked what their positive or negative attitude towards capitalism was. The result is a comparative anti-capitalism scale. The data presented demonstrates that the United States figures between Sweden and Japan. The American class system is less ideologically polarised, i.e. less anticapitalist than its Swedish counterpart yet still more polarised than Japan. These results can be explained in terms of an ideological tendency of the American working class towards middle-class values and the tendency of the American middle class – particularly managerial segment – towards pro-capitalist stands. Furthermore, Wright explains these differences in class formation through different political cultures i.e. the Swedish attitude towards state employment and unionisation and the Japanese emphasis on good relations in the work force – from the top, down to the bottom of the working class, Japan’s large employers treat their work force as a family with the result of a non-polarising effect. Wright’s table below gives an overview of the span of attitudes along the different formations and thus indirectly shows the likelihood of class consciousness and class struggle (Figure 13.3). In his closing remarks Wright states that the empirical evidence suggests both a reaffirmation of classic Marxist concepts and a rethinking strategy in terms of important revisions. Marxist class analysis has been both confirmed and repealed: the working class remains the single largest location within the overall class structure: the extended working class – skilled and non-skilled workers together – makes up between 55 per cent and 60 per cent of the labour force (1997: 530). However, if one takes a closer look at the developments over the last three decades one has to concede that the working class is indeed shrinking. Furthermore, and with respect to the sometimes one-dimensional views of the working class it must be said that the working class seems to be more heterogeneous, and mobility patterns seem to be more frequent than ever before. While it is true that property relations do not seem to shift, the skill and authority patterns vary and have on occasion changed remarkably. However, when it comes to mobility patterns, the US is not such a mobility-friendly social environment as has been hypothesised. Classes also have become more heterogeneous in

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Bourgeois coalition

–3

–2

Japan

–4 –3 Procapitalist attitudes

Figure 13.3 and Japan

–1

experts small employers 0

–2

2 Middleclass Bourgeois coatition coatition

–1 0 1 Anticapitalism scale

unskilled supervisors

2

1

Capitalists expert managers expert supervisors small employers experts

–4

1 Middle-class

managers expert supervisors skilled manager

United States

capitalists

expert managers

Bohurgeoils

experts skilled supervisors

expert supervisors skilled manager petty bourgeoisie managers 0

2

3 4 Workingclass coaltion

3 skilled workers skilled supervisors workers & petty bourgeoisie

–1

unskilled supervisors workers & skilled workers

–2

petty bourgeoisie skilled supervisors

–3

unskilled supervisors managers skilled manager

–4

small employers

expert managers

capitalists

Sweden

Middle-class coalition

workers & skilled workers

Working-class coalition

3

4

working class coalition

4 Proworker attitudes

Class and the ideological spectrum in Sweden, the United States

Source: Wright (1997: 420). Reprinted with permission of Cambridge University Press.

terms of the numbers of women and the numbers of members of ethnic origin. The majority of the present working class is now female, consisting roughly of 50 –60 per cent females and 35– 45 per cent males (1997: 543). Erik Olin Wright has indeed demonstrated that serious Marxist analysis can produce insights into the class structure of American society. In doing so, he has also revealed that class remains a prevailing

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feature and is most relevant for an understanding of American society – a fact that must go to the very heart of commentators who claim that there is no such thing as a class structure in the United States. Furthermore, Wright is also able to demonstrate the usefulness of Marxist concepts in terms of what Parsons had suggested. Parsons maintained that the advantage of Weberian or Durkheimian analysis has always been that the analysis of social inequality and social stratification was linked to the analysis of modern society as a whole. Keeping Wright’s ‘secularised Marxism’ in mind – a Marxism that admits no labour metaphysics – it is indeed justified to say that can claim to have exactly fulfilled this Parsonian requirement. It was not by chance that Marxist analysis made a late appearance in America – almost 150 years after its ‘invention’. As a matter of fact, the return of Marxist analysis at the end of the 20th century indicates that extreme social inequality has become a major issue in American society. This should serve as a reminder of how much has changed since Marx wrote that America was one of the few western countries where a social and political revolution would not be necessary and Alexis de Tocqueville stressed that in America, men were more equal in comparison to other European countries.

14 Tocqueville Revisited: American Exceptionalism in the Political Sociology of Seymour Martin Lipset

General presuppositions and/or theoretical affiliations and influences: Alexis De Tocqueville, Karl Marx, Max Weber, Talcott Parsons. Model/paradigm(s): American exceptionalism. Concepts: charismatic leadership, political parties, laissez-faire capitalism, Protestant work ethic, value system, equality and achievement, political rights, egalitarian and democratic values. Empirical environment(s): USA (1776–2000).

More than 150 years separate the first thinker of American exceptionalism, Alexis de Tocqueville, from its current promoter, Seymour Martin Lipset (1922– ). At present, Lipset is not only acknowledged as American exceptionalism’s greatest contemporary thinker but also highly respected as one of the most prominent political sociologists. Among the many books that Lipset published, the following studies stand out in particular: Agrarian Socialism, Social Mobility in Industrial Society and Political Man: the Social Bases of Politics. Among his work related to the theme of American Exceptionalism, two studies are relevant: The First New Nation, and American Exceptionalism – a Double-Edged Sword. Lipset’s career has taken him to Harvard, Stanford, and George Mason University where he held individual professorial chairs; additionally, he has been President of both the American Political Science Association and the American Sociological Association. In what follows, we will first take a closer look into The First New Nation, mainly in order to understand the 161

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conceptual historical framework within which Lipset operates, before discussing Lipset’s revised and up-dated application of his concepts in American Exceptionalism. The First New Nation when published, immediately established its author as a major thinker in the Tocqevillean tradition (Lipset, 1962). However, it would be misleading to associate Lipset solely with this tradition; equally important for Lipset is the sociological tradition, particularly the work of Max Weber and Talcott Parsons, and even though he rarely mentions other influences, we might add the names of Karl Marx, Emile Durkheim, Ferdinand Tönnies, Thorstein Veblen, Robert S. Lynd, and C. Wright Mills to this list of sociologists. If there is one way to describe Lipset’s work, it is that of an eclectic thinker who experiments with various sociological and political concepts in order to analyse the peculiarities of American society and politics. In Democracy in America Tocqueville pointed out that America was the first nation to break away from the political and social traditions and institutions of the old European world; there was no feudal system, there were no inherited titles and no aristocracy. Lipset elaborates upon this argument. America lacked the old order and a new one had to be established; however without a proper framework (the Constitution and other American institutions were still in their conceptual stages), the only stable ‘institution’ the new citizens could rely upon and identify with was the charismatic leader. According to Lipset, George Washington primarily fits Max Weber’s description of the charismatic figure (1962: 16–23). In applying Weber’s concept to the American leader, Lipset stresses that it was Washington who was able to provide unity, and who was committed to the constitutional framework. It was also Washington who guaranteed stability (a stability that the parties, which were still in the making, could rarely provide), and who also set an example by not clinging to power, but who handed over the presidency in a democratic fashion. If the charismatic leader was of critical importance, so too was the establishment of national unity. This unity was achieved mainly through the development of a political system, a system based on the principles of federalism. As it turned out, the decisive task was to balance the centralised and de-centralised forces of government. Eventually, constitutional compromise helped to guarantee the rights of the states but also guaranteed the existence of a strong union. The political

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parties interpreted and shaped this constitutional framework in that they voiced content or discontent within the existing institutional framework – thus helping to adjust the system to the needs of the citizenry (1962: 25– 44). Yet the political system was not the only means of guaranteeing stability. The economic aspects were just as important. Against widespread misconception, the United States did not start as a laissezfaire capitalist nation (1962: 48–60). In the beginnings of the early republic government intervention and regulation were widespread. As Lipset points out, it was only later, during the course of the 19th century, when large corporations and sustainable private funding emerged, that such a policy was abandoned. Obviously a situation had been reached where a shift from the public to the private seemed to provide the same security. In addition to this, the Protestant work ethic and its value system added a congenial dimension; together with the absence of aristocratic traditions (which still played a major role throughout Metternich’s Europe) they helped to create purer capitalist conditions in America. Here, Lipset refers directly to the works of Max Weber – in terms of the Protestant character – and indirectly to the writings of Marx who, when commenting on the developments in 19th century America, thought of the United States as being exceptional in terms of a purer capitalist environment. Both, religious and materialist explanations elucidate the exceptional circumstances, particularly when compared with the developments in Canada and Latin America. Lipset summarises the developments and the related theorising of Weber and Marx appropriately when he says: Given the absence of a traditional aristocratic class, and the withdrawal into Canada of many of those who most sympathised with such a societal model, the entrepreneur became a cultural hero – and rapid growth followed. Canada, on the other hand, though possessing many of the same material conditions as the United States, did not develop as rapidly or as strongly … And the new states of nineteenth century Latin America, led by traditional Catholic oligarchies drawn mainly from the landed aristocracy, were even more backward economically. They retained many of the pre-industrial values of the Iberian Peninsula. Latin

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America lacked a dynamic business class, a Protestant work ethos, and an ideological commitment to economic modernisation (1962: 58f) In order to understand the early roots of American exceptionalism, Lipset also takes a closer look at the ideological dimensions. Accordingly, it was intellectuals who first formulated an American national identity (1962: 66–74). The peculiar contribution of American intellectuals consisted not only of their ability to reflect critically, but also in their willingness to put principles into practice. Unfortunately this union between intellect and power did not last long. With the rise of party politics the alliance of intellect and power diminished. The only legacy that seemed to survive, was the revolutionary image, i.e. the break with the values of the old European world – hence still America’s concern for values such as inalienable rights and equality. Yet, as Lipset acknowledges, these revolutionary values were also tempered by Protestant religion (1962: 79ff). Religion was also the main cause for the tempering and channelling of conservative voices – thus helping them to come terms with a political system that had revolutionary roots. As a result, a national self-image emerged during the 19th century, a self-image that was supported by both parties and that stood for independence, revolution and egalitarian principles. Yet America faced a problem: how could it sustain being both egalitarian and revolutionary whilst at the same time social inequality in terms of both class and ethnicity appeared to be on the release? Obviously some adjustment had to be made. According to Lipset, it was the interplay of two themes, equality and achievement, that helped to provide the missing link between ideology and real conditions (1962: 101–39). It also provided American citizens with the necessary tools to explain the American pursuit of status in a country where all citizens were regarded as politically equal. As Lipset points out in this context, it proved not to be the materialist interests but the value system (proffered by the Protestant work ethic and its voluntaristic, anti-state, decentralised, communitarian attitudes) that provided the American social system with stability in the midst of the common pursuit of materialistic status achievement. For the organised labour movement the rhetoric of political equality and rights which had religious foundations, had detrimental consequences.


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While in Europe the labour movement became an all-embracing movement demanding not only social rights but political rights as well, its American counterpart argued along the lines of political rights that had already been established. As Lipset points out, the American organised labour movement has ‘been handicapped by their slightly illegitimate position relative to the value system’ (1962: 178). In other words, the American labour movement had been reduced to just another lobbying group, whereas in Europe the labour movement eventually developed into social democratic and/or socialist parties that deeply influenced the institutional design of political systems. In plain Marxist terms: the American labour movement has been less class conscious as a result of the rhetoric of political rights, equality and achievement. Lipset then goes even a step further in that he maintains it is in fact values that deliver stability, which in turn lead to integration. Here, Lipset clearly builds upon an argument that originated with Talcott Parsons. Parsons had argued that system integration relies on the normative values of a given system. Lipset took up this idea, applied it to the context of the United States – and proved Parsons right. By stressing egalitarian and democratic values, America avoided the totalitarian experiences and class wars of Continental Europe: ‘The subsequent moderation of American class politics is related to the fact that egalitarianism and democracy triumphed before the workers were a politically relevant force. Unlike the workers in Europe, they did not have to fight their way into the polity; the door was already open’ (1962: 341). Lipset even goes as far to highlight parallels between the socialist agenda and the American dream. After stating ‘the similarities between the ideological content of socialism and that of Americanism as laid out in the Declaration of Independence’, Lipset elaborates on the theme of ‘why there is no socialism in the United States’: ‘Americans have always defined the preferred relationships among men in the same terms as have most socialists. And since their self-conception leads them to believe that such relationships actually characterise America … socialism as such has never been able to make much headway’ (1962: 341). As we have seen, in First New Nation Lipset expounded upon the Tocquevillian theme of why America differed from other nations. One of the reasons was the way in which America tackled the problem of equality/inequality. Lipset’s follow-up study,

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American Exceptionalism, can be seen as an extrapolation and confirmation of the main hypothesis presented in the earlier book – with one important difference. Lipset is now more critical of the double meaning of exceptionalism, particularly in his discussion of the issue of equality/inequality (Lipset, 1996: 53–76). According to Lipset, America had gone a long way in its own egalitarian creed as was first formulated in the American Revolution and later expanded in the course of the 19th century. As we approach the beginning of the 21st century, the American record on equality is not blatantly commendable; there is a massive concentration of wealth and income – not to mention such problems as crime and the numerous homeless people. In fact, most sociological evidence suggests that the United States has become the most unequal industrialised nation in terms of the distribution of wealth and income; it also has the highest level of poverty in the industrialised Western world. At the same time the American Government does less than any other Western government to reduce this inequality, for example by raising taxes or instigating some kind of distributive system or comprehensive welfare system worthy of the name. Yet it would be wrong to solely blame the American Federal Government for this. If it is true that the American Government is deeply democratic and representative, then we must assume that the government’s attitude is indeed representative of the American people and their understanding of the values of liberty, egalitarianism, individualism, populism and laissez-faire. It is at this point that Lipset reveals the true meaning of American exceptionalism as ‘a double-edged sword’ (1996: 267f). Indeed, as has been stressed, America had been a new society that rejected the European feudalist past with its rigid class structure; America had been founded on liberal and democratic principles; its value system had been based on individualism and anti-statism; poverty had thus far only found high concentrations in sub-sections of society (a sub-section which does not exercise its political rights to representation and therefore is unable to voice its needs); additionally there had always been the opportunities of upward mobility and the opportunity of spatial ‘escapism’ in a vast country. Yet all these political and social factors which provided the background to the exceptionalist theorising, also cut the other way: America had liberalism without social justice; the individualist rhetoric, the emphasis on achievement, self-fulfilment and


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self-reliance made it harder to have collective forms of action in the work place and in poverty-ridden areas; the possibility to move on or up, to ‘exit’ the present situation made it more difficult to achieve solidarity among the needy; laissez-faire attitudes did not contribute to the formation of collective representation and distribution; as a result, unlike most of the other Western industrialised countries, America knows no comprehensive welfare state. This then is the dark side of American exceptionalism; yet as Lipset stresses, it is a side that is as American as the other, more positive and brighter side of America, and in the end it throws up the question of whether one can have the cake and eat it too. Lipset answers the question by referring to the change that has taken place. When American values were first formulated ‘(t)he country began as an overwhelmingly agrarian society, with more than 90 per cent of its work force on the land, many as subsistence farmers. As the country approaches the twenty-first century, only 2 percent are farmers, and the great majority of the population live in sprawling metropolitan regions’ (1996: 288). What the author hints at, is the fact that with such a massive change, the possibilities for conflict increased – as did the need for consensual values. Yet the values which were first voiced at the beginning of the republic – most of them more ‘political’ than ‘social’ – became harder to sustain, particularly when seen in light of the shift from a predominantly agrarian to a modern industrial society. The quest for social rights could no longer be ‘covered’ by the rhetoric of political rights; and as a consequence the balance of consensus and conflict came under threat.

15 Epilogue: The Semantics of Social Stratification

In dealing with the question of how inequality is perceived and dealt with in the United States – a country that also purports to guarantee freedom and order – we have looked at the work of a number of social scientists. The ‘inequality narratives’, when treated independently speak for themselves: they reveal how social scientists with different backgrounds and theoretical affiliations attempted to understand social inequality from different observation points in both space and time. When these narratives are put together to form an overview, it becomes clear that to compartmentalise the various approaches and to treat them solely under such labels as ‘functionalist’, ‘Weberian’ or ‘Marxist’ (as quite a few sociologists have done) rather obfuscates the clarity of the picture. With an interest in how American society have tried to narrate, code and reflected upon the existence of its social inequality, it is far more useful to consider the concepts and the way in which they have been applied from a ‘pluralist’ standpoint. Before discussing the semantical shifts within such a pluralist perspective, let us briefly recall the general picture we have been presented with. Marx, Tocqueville and Weber were correct in observing that America was indeed exceptionalist. Having no feudal ballast, for Marx it was these unfettered conditions that spurred the development of capitalism. For Tocqueville it was the lack of a caste-like aristocracy that promoted the birth of American democracy – hence the rhetoric of political equality, rights and democracy. For Weber, the Protestant work ethic materialised in a purer form in America. 168

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Furthermore, the small Protestant communities served as ‘test run areas’ for a later mass democracy (which, again as Weber observed, at a later stage became increasingly organised along bureaucratic structures and distinguished forms of political, social and economic power). All these conditions were crucial to the ‘take-off’ phase of American industrial capitalism with its new accelerated form of the division of labour that Durkheim could have spoken of. Growing, and held together by democratic practices, it was through the ties of the political communities and its unique social practices and organisation that America managed to avoid crisis and anomie – a point well considered by both Simmel and Tönnies – inspired lines of investigation. The decade prior to the Civil War marked a qualitative step in the development of industrial capitalism; however, it was the Civil War itself that served as the catalyst that triggered an accelerated growth of industrial capitalism. This seemingly unregulated growth also led to a rather ‘booty’ form of capitalism which came to its initial peak in the Gilded Age with its robber barons and its conflicting forms of labour, marked by unrest and volatile social relationships. This is the period Thorstein Veblen writes about, the transition from agriculture and its proto-forms of capitalism to the urban development with its new internal division of industrial labour. This period sees not only the decline of craftmanship but also the further division of labour, symbolised by and expressed through the rise of the captains of industry (and later the captains of solvency). A further differentiation took place in which the need for urban space became crucial – a development that has been discussed by W. E. B. Du Bois and the Chicago School. The world economic crisis occurred between the two studies that were conducted by Robert and Helen Lynd. This event and its consequences indeed marked a new epoch in the way social stratification was perceived. The free unfettered capitalist market had crashed and Keynesianism and state intervention in the form of the New Deal became the new force to be reckoned with. It is this transition that is crucial, as it also marked the demise of the old, mainly rural and small town middle class. C. Wright Mills has pointed out that it is only with the New Deal that both a new power elite and an anonymous, yet internally highlystratified mass society could eventually come into being. According to Mills’ pyramid-within-pyramid theory the collective workingclass consciousness rising to challenge the powers that be no longer

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existed. Rather the individualistic solutions of new middle class, the new ‘rat race’ were the order of the day. As Franklin Frazier has stressed, ethnic groups were also drawn into this competition. A stratified society developed that no longer knew open class conflict – only fine distinctions. Favourable historical circumstances, such as the US’ recovery from the economic and political crisis resulting from its engagement in World War II and the Cold War, led to a more stable environment, an environment in which the US became a notable model or paradigm for modern development. Talcott Parsons has been the paradigm’s foremost theorist and voice. Yet despite having stressed important points such as the maintenance of freedom, order and consensus mixed with a certain ‘functional’ amount of conflict and competition, the Parsonian paradigm and understanding was at a loss when economic and social crisis again hit the US. Open class and ethnic conflict made a public re-appearance. To be sure, these tensions had never completely disappeared, but they now surfaced in new form – as Wilson has explained in his studies of the urban underclass. The return of Marxist class analysis in its various manifestations (such as in Davis’ classic historical materialism, or in Wright’s Analytical Marxism) must itself be seen as symptomatic, hinting at the increased potential for conflict. It is a deep irony indeed that as we enter the beginning of the 21st century, and leave behind what has been called the ‘American Century’, we see the return of Marxist class analysis. However, it also remains true that the American class system can be better defined through objective terms than in subjective forms such as collective class-consciousness and action. Seymour Martin Lipset is thus justified in stressing the Americanness of coming to terms with conflict. His insistence on the unique relationship between stressing political equality and rights and the co-existence of social inequality reminds us of the Tocquevillan tradition that also runs deeply through American history. Americans still see equality of achievement (through such means as the political right to education) as the answer to the problem of social inequality – not overall material distribution and equality as the Europeans do. We have briefly looked at the chronological development of the perception of social inequality and how it unfolded. But how does the conceptual differentiation and pluralism relate to this account? In order to answer this question, it is necessary to concur that

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interrelatedness is relevant, yet only to a certain degree. When seen in this context, some lines have more importance in their connections than others. More often than not it is a question of adding more credence to concepts, or a question of further differentiation rather than replacing concepts. To be more precise: rarely do the various conceptualisations contradict each other. In a few cases, bipolar concepts are used; but then they serve to emphasise distinctions – and are not usually in direct conflict with other paradigms and concepts. Given these qualifications, we should briefly run through the spectrum of concepts being used: First, no progress could have been made without the classic contributions. All the classics were European and although not all of them actually experienced America personally (Tocqueville, Engels and Weber did, Marx, Simmel and Tönnies didn’t) their conceptualisations proved extremely helpful in terms of understanding social inequality, even when applied outside the realm of European conditions. Marx’s understanding of class and class struggle, Durkheim’s division of labour, the different forms of solidarity, Tönnies’ distinction between community and association/society, Simmel stressing the size of groups and the various forms of conflict and domination, to Tocqueville’s understanding of democracy – all proved to be applicable to American circumstances. Furthermore, all of the American social scientists discussed in this book benefited in one way or another from the classics – sometimes directly referring to them, sometimes just drawing on parallel observations that seem to have been inspired by classic sociological thought. This statement needs some further clarification: not all of the American social scientists refer to all the classics all the time; however most of their work makes some form of reference or acknowledges the classic tradition in some way or form. It seems to be logical that modern social scientists are drawn to those classics that are closer to their topic. Thus Veblen benefits from Marx and only resembles Durkheim when conceptualising the consequences of the division of labour. Park, Burgess and McKenzie studied Simmel and certainly had heard of Tönnies yet never refer to Tocqueville. There are also Americans who are more embedded in the European tradition than others; C. Wright Mills and Talcott Parsons seem to be the obvious examples. When taking a further look at how the American social scientists related to each other we also find some established patterns: Mills

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paying tribute to Veblen and the Lynds, Sennett referring to Mills, Lipset using Parsons, or Wilson mentioning of Frazier and Du Bois. It would be impossible for one social scientist alone to follow-up on all these connections. For our purposes here, it is enough to state that there is an entire set of conceptualisations available with which to analyse the time and space of the various dimensions of inequality in American society. Going a step further and abstracting from the different theoretical approaches and lines of reasoning, the distinguished presuppositional arguments, the different locations and ‘observations posts’ in time and space, I would like to pick out the re-occurring patterns or distinctions that I consider to be crucial for the study of social inequality. To be more precise, most of the concepts that have been used in order to describe patterns of inequality can actually be located on two related axes: 1. a categorical axis, and 2. a related gradual top/bottom or better high/low axis (Berger, 1989: 52ff; Koselleck 2000: 27ff). While the first axis is based on simple categories using mainly either/or distinctions out of a limited variety of options, the second axis seems to allow for making distinctions on a gradual basis. Applied to the set of authors and theories introduced in this study, almost all their concepts can also be placed on these two axes. ‘Categorical’ are thus the concepts of class, class consciousness, occupation, the religious and/or ethnic belonging, generations, etc. ‘Gradual’ are concepts such as income, power, prestige, places in the hierarchy of bureaucratic structures in either the social, political or economical realm. To be sure, most of the categories are of European origin. However, some of the concepts introduced in our study can highlight the uniquely American conditions at specific times and places. They are particularly helpful, since they help to distinguish features that are particularly American and stand out in comparison to patterns of inequality that one can usually observe in other western societies. In other words, they hint at the specific American dimensions of inequality. Nowhere else do concepts such as the ‘captains of industry’ or ‘captain of solvency’, ‘the Middletown spirit’, ‘ethnic pockets’ or the ‘underclass’ hold the same connotations. To be able to operate with such concrete or precise concepts and even to apply these concepts to specific periods in the development of American society is no small achievement. Furthermore, the continuous use of

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some of these concepts is indicative of the persistence of the problem, while other concepts have a shorter life, thus highlighting events or particular phases in American history. Here we can see an application of what the historian Reinhart Koselleck meant when he stressed the existence and closer dependency, or better dialectical relationship between structural dimensions and events in history (Koselleck, 1985: 105–15). In this respect, the use of the concepts such as ‘old middle class’ or ‘captain of industry’ refer to some peculiar development and moment in time; however they have also influenced the long-term structural developments. However, as American as they may be, all these concepts and their application also hint at the persistence of a severe structural problem, namely that large segments of the population are either excluded or at least socially disadvantaged. This is a particular problem for a society such as the American one which stresses equality, and in which ‘freedom itself has become a productive force’ (Diner, 1999: 78). In the last instance the problem is one of legitimacy: How is it possible for social inequality to co-exist when the demand for political equality is so deeply enshrined into the very existence and the belief-system of American democracy? Surely, even if we were to forget for a second about social equality and focus solely on the political aim of political equality, there can be no political equality that is not backed-up by a minimum of social security. It is this last argument which leads us to rethink the relationship between civil society and inequality. Jeffrey Alexander has urged us to look at a new notion of civil society (Alexander, 1998b: 1–19). It is not ‘civil society 1’ that was first conceived of by Ferguson, Smith, Hegel and Tocqueville as an umbrella-like variety of institutions which referred to all social institutions outside the state. It is also not what Alexander has called ‘civil society 2’, the narrowing-down by Marx in which civil society is solely associated with capitalist relations. Rather it is ‘civil society 3’, a new concept that led to and must be associated with the events that led to the emergence of a new kind of civil society: the development of a realm that can neither be fully associated with the state nor the capitalist market alone: ‘a solidary sphere in which a certain kind of universalising community comes gradually to be defined and to some degree enforced’ (Alexander, 1998b: 7). Usually this sphere is associated with the public realm and public opinion. However, Alexander also

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warns us of the downside of the thus conceived civil society, particularly the bifurcating discourses and codes that are very much at the heart of modern civil society (1998b: 96–114). The positive and universal discourses of liberty and democracy always rely to a certain extent on its negative counterparts, i.e. the discourse of repression that can deal with, and in the last instance oppress particularistic and uncivil discourses (1998b: 102f). Now, all concepts associated with obvious inequality and injustice (as described in this study) are such uncivil moments or structures within civil society. However, the most important argument in Alexander’s proposal is that in modern western society such as the American one these ruptures exist only to a certain extent or degree. If we apply these insights to our original question of how freedom and order can co-exist with inequality, we can begin to understand American society as a civil society that went through a long, collective learning process. It is a learning process that benefited from political institutional arrangements that were in place from the moment American gained its independence. In the long run, these institutional assurances guaranteed the hegemony of the discourses of democracy and freedom which helped to either abolish structural inequalities (such as slavery) or that provided the means with which to counter the social injustice that has been and are still caused by and experienced through social inequality. If this is true, America had long since become a civil society well before civil society’s triumph in ‘1989’. This last statement however, should not be seen as a blank insurance policy; the delicate balance upon which civil society relies is constantly under threat. Inevitably this also applies to America.

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Thomas, W. I. and Znaniecki, Florian (1927) The Polish Peasant in Europe and America. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Thompson, E. P. (1978) The Poverty of Theory and Other Essays. London: Merlin. Tocqueville de, A. (1994) Democracy in America (1835/1840). London: Fontana Press. Tönnies, F. (1955) Community and Association (1887/1935). London: Routledge. Vanneman, R. and Cannons, L. W. (1987) The American Perception of Class. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Veblen, T. (1953) The Theory of the Leisure Class (1899) New York: Viking Press. —— (1964) Absentee Ownership and Business Enterprise in Recent Times – the Case of America (1923) New York: Augustus M. Kelley. —— (ed.: M. Lerner) (1971) The Portable Veblen. New York: Viking Press. —— (1990) The Instinct of Workmanship and the State of the Industrial Arts (1914). New Brunswick: Transaction Publishers. Verba, S. and Owen, G. R. (1985) Equality in America. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Voss, K. (1993) The Making of American Exceptionalism. Ithaca, NJ: Cornell University Press. Walzer, M. (1983) Spheres of Justice. New York: Basic Books. Warner, W. L. (1963) Yankee City. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Warner, W. L., Meecher, M. and Eells, K. (1949) Social Class in America. Chicago: Science Research Associates. Weber, M. (eds H. H. Gerth and C. W. Mills) (1946) From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology. New York: Oxford University Press. —— (1968) Economy and Society (1922). New York: Bedminster Press. West, C. (1993) Race Matters. Boston: Beacon Press, 1993. Wilson, W. J. (1980) The Declining Significance of Race. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. —— (1987) The Truly Disadvantaged. Chicago: Chicago University Press. —— (1996) When Work Disappears. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. —— (1999) The Bridge Over the Racial Divide. Berkeley/Los Angeles: The University of California Press. Wirth, L. (1956) The Ghetto. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Wolfe, A. (1989) Whose Keeper? Berkeley/Los Angeles: University of California Press. —— (1998) One Nation After All. New York: Penguin. —— (ed.) (1991) America at Century’s End. Berkeley/Los Angeles: University of California Press. Wright, E. O. (1978) Class, Crisis and the State. London, New York: Verso. —— (1989) Classes. London/New York: Verso. —— (1994) Interrogating Inequality. London/New York: Verso. —— (1997) Class Counts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Index absentee ownership, 65, 66 Absentee Ownership and Business Enterprise in Recent Times – the Case of America, 7, 59, 64 –8 ‘abstracted empiricism’, 2 abstract labour, 106 African American community, 125, 129 differentiation, 134 Agrarian Socialism, Social Mobility in Industrial Society, 161–7, 170 agriculture, 20, 66–8, 156 independent farmers, 66–7, 106 Alexander, Jeffrey C., 2, 173 Possibilities for Justice – Civil Society and Its Contradictions, 8 Sociological Theory Since World War II, 3 on Talcott Parsons, 112 Theoretical Logic in Sociology, 3 American Exceptionalism, 161, 164, 168 American Exceptionalism – a DoubleEdged Sword, 7, 161, 166–7 American Federation of Labour, 132 American Political Science Association, 161 American Pragmatism, 3, 59, 71 American Revolution, 51, 166 American Sociological Association, 161 American Sociological Society, 130 Analytical Marxism, 147–9, 151 An Introduction to the Science of Sociology, 71 anomie, 40, 41, 61 Archiv für Sozialwisssenschaft und Sozialpolitk, 25 association, Tönnies on, 46, 47 ‘Atlantic Revolution’, 1, 2 authority, 116

concept of, 107 defined by Parsons, 117–18 gender gap in, 153 autonomy, and work, 109 Berger, P.A., 5, 172 ‘big bourgeoisie’, 141 ‘black bourgeoisie’, 131, 132, 133 Black Bourgeoisie – the Rise of a New Middle Class, 7, 130 –3 black community, 130 –1 black emancipation, 132 black middle class, 132, 133, 137 black people inequality, 134 in the USA, 135, 136 ‘black sociology’, 124, 134 Bordeaux University, 37 Boston, immigrants, 105 bourgeoisie, 130 –3, 141, 152, 153, 155–6 bureaucracy, 96 and capitalism, 30 –2 Weber on, 30 –2 Burgess, Ernest W., 171 An Introduction to the Science of Sociology, 71 The City, 7, 71–8, 145 business class, 81–2, 85–6, 89, 90 business control, 85–7 California University, 141 ‘Californisation of politics’, 142 Calvinism, 33 Canada, 163 capital, 17, 18, 19–20 capitalism, 114, 153, 168, 169 and bureaucracy, 30 –2 and inequality, 149 origins, 19–20, 27 and real estate, 70 181

182

Index

capitalism – continued in the USA, 21–2, 33 Webers’s concept, 27 capitalist class, 152 captains of industry, 63– 4, 65–6, 89, 169, 172, 173 captains of solvency, 65, 66, 68, 172 Character and Social Structure, 93 charisma and charismatic leadership, 30, 32, 162 Chicago School, 70 –8, 145, 169 Chicago Tribune, 22 Chicago University, 59, 105, 113, 134 choice, and conflict, 56 churches, 132–3 cities, 76–8 as communities, 76 expansion, 73–5 inner, 136, 137, 138–9 and social control, 75–6 citizenship, 120 –1 City of Quartz – Excavating the Future in Los Angeles, 7, 141 City, The, 7, 71–8, 145 civil rights, 136 civil society, 53, 173– 4 concept, 14 Civil War, 96, 169 class, 94 and ethnicity, 153 and the ideological spectrum, 159 Marx’s analysis, 12–13 Mills on, 94 as a social relationship, 28, 150 subjective dimension, 107 Weber’s definition, 28–9 Wilson’s concept, 135 class analysis, 149 class conflict, 15–17, 95, 107, 143– 4 internalisation, 106–7 class consciousness, 15, 18, 94 –5, 99, 107, 149, 158 Class Counts, 7, 147, 149–60 Class, Crisis and the State, 147 class differences, 85

class distinction, 81–2, 84 Classes, 147 classes, Weber’s concept, 27–8 class formation, 149, 158 class mobility, 156–7, 160 class permeability, 156–7 class structure, changes in the USA, 154 class struggle, 14 –17, 26, 28–9, 122, 147, 150, 158 in the city, 77 Marx on, 28 Simmel on, 43 Wright’s definition, 149 class typology, 151 Cobb, Jonathan, and Richard Sennet, The Hidden Injuries of Class, 104 –11 colour line, 90, 128, 130 Columbia University, 79, 105, 113 communication, 73 communism, 130 Communist Manifesto see Manifesto of the Communist Party Communist Party, 122, 128–9 community, 56 the city as, 76 cycles of development, 72–3 Tönnies on, 46–7 types of, 72 Community and Association, 6, 46–9 competition, 64 and prestige, 116 conflict, 42, 106, 113 and choice, 56 civilising aspects, 48–9 ethnic and class, 143– 4 Georg Simmel on, 42–3 and order, 48 Congress of Industrial Organisations, 132 consciousness double, 127, 130, 131 false, 107 group and individual, 38–9 consumption, 19, 64

Index

Continental Divide, 7, 161 Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of the Right: Introduction, 6, 12–13 Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy, 6, 12–13, 14, 21, 24 Cornell University, 59 country towns, USA, 66, 67 craftsmanship, 62, 66, 169 Crisis, 127, 128 Critique of the Gotha Programme, 11 cultural anthropology, 79 ‘cultural’ associations, 132 Darwin, Charles, 61 Das Jahrhundert Verstehen (Understanding the Century), 1 Das Kapital, 6, 11, 19–20 Davis, Mike, 140 –7 City of Quartz – Excavating the Future in Los Angeles, 7, 141 Prisoners of the American Dream, 7, 141 Urban Control – The Ecology of Fear, 141, 145–7 decentralisation, 137 decentralised power structure, 122 Declining Significance of Race, 7, 134–7 decolonisation, 129 democracy, 31–2, 168 and inequality, 121 Tocqueville on, 54 in the USA, 51–3 Democracy in America, 6, 51– 4, 162 democratic systems, 116 Democrat Party, 141 Deutsch-Französische Jahrbücher, 12 Dewey, John, 71 differentiation of labour, 45 differentiation process, 46, 47, 48, 72, 73, 119 dignity, and freedom, 105–6 Diner, Dan, 173 Das Jahrhundert Verstehen, 1 discipline, 116 discrimination, 127

183

divided self, 109–10 division of labour, 39– 40, 61, 62–3, 72, 73, 115, 121, 169 Division of Labour in Society, 6, 37, 38– 40, 44 domination, 42, 77 Simmel on, 43– 4 double consciousness, 127, 130, 131 Du Bois, W.E.B., 124 –30, 169, 172 ‘The Conservation of Races’, 125 Crisis, 127, 128 ‘Marxism and the Negro Problem’, 128 The Philadelphia Negro, 7, 126 The Souls of Black Folk, 127 ‘The Study of the Negro Problem’, 126 The Suppression of the African Slave Trade, 125 Durkheim, Emile, 36– 41, 171 The Division of Labour in Society, 6, 37, 38– 40, 44 Elementary Forms of Religious Life, 37, 41 The Rules of Sociological Method, 6, 37–8 on society, 37– 41 and sociology, 37 Suicide, 37, 40 –1 and Veblen, 61 dynamic function approach, 80 economic development, 122 economic institutions, 61 Economy and Society, 6, 25, 27–32, 33– 4 ‘educated tenth’, 125, 126, 130 education, 132 educational qualifications, 108 elaborated class typology, 151 Elementary Forms of Religious Life, 37, 41 ‘elevator effect’, 133 elite(s), 144 Mills on, 7, 95, 98, 102 Sennet and Cobb on, 106

184

Index

employees, number, 151 employing organisations, 153– 4 employment, and gender, 82 encyclopedical approach, 127 Engels, Friedrich, 23– 4 Manifesto of the Communist Party, 15–18, 21, 24 and the USA, 24 England, pecuniary culture, 64 equality, 53, 110 –11 and achievement, 164 equilibrium, 73, 75, 76, 113 in life, 109 ethnic groups, 119, 120 ethnicity, and class, 153 ‘ethnic pockets’, 105, 172 Europe class consciousness, 99 early modern period, 120 inequality, 117, 121 labour movement, 165 modern society, 112 evolution, 59–60, 61 exploitation, 17, 20, 63, 149–50, 152 Fall of Public Man, 104 false consciousness, 107 families, and the class system, 115–16 family, 119 family size, 115 fear, 145, 146 federalism, 53 financial centres, decentralisation, 142 First New Nation, 7, 161–5 Fisk University, Tennessee, 125 forces of production, 14, 17, 90 –1, 136 Frazier, Franklin E., 130 –3, 169, 172 Black Bourgeoisie – the Rise of a New Middle class, 7, 130 –3 The Negro Family, 130 The Negro in the United States, 130 freedom, 173, 174

concept of, 136 and dignity, 105–6 and order, 113 French Revolution, Marx on, 14 Friedrich Wilhelm Universität, Berlin, 125 From Max Weber – Essays in Sociology, 92 functionalism, 37, 41–2 gender, 119 gender division, 82 gender gap, in authority, 153 gender inequality, 157 general theory, 2 George Mason University, 161 German Ideology, 14 –15 German philosophy, 13 German Society for Sociology, 42 German Sociological Association, 46 Gerth, Hans, 92, 93 Gilbert, D., 5 goal attainment, 117 Gordon, M.M., 5 Grabb, E.G., 37 grand theory, 2, 113 Grimes, M.D., 5 group expansion, 44 –5 group size, and individuality, 77 Grundrisse, 18–19, 21 Harvard University, 105, 113, 125, 134, 161 Hidden Injuries of Class, 7, 105–11 ‘Hollywood Cowboys’, 142 honour, 29 housing, 83 Howard University, 130 human ecology, 71–2, 74 –5 ideology, 88–9 independent farmers, USA, 66–7, 106 individualism, 39, 106, 111, 115–16 individuality, 42, 44, 45, 96–7 and group size, 77

Index

industrial capitalism, 169 industrialisation, 121 inequality, 1–8, 113, 116–17, 121, 126, 166–7, 168, 170 –1 black people, 134 and capitalism, 149 categorical axis, 172 and civil society, 173– 4 and democracy, 121 gradual top/bottom axes, 172 relational aspects, 151 inner cities, 137, 138–9 inner city poor, 136 Instinct of Workmanship and the State of the Industrial Arts, 7, 59, 62– 4 institutional racism, 134 institutions, 95, 98, 99, 115, 122 integration, 116 Interrogating Inequality, 7, 147–8 Introduction to the Science of Sociology, 71 James, William, 71, 125 Japan, 122–3 class and ideological spectrum, 159 work force, 158 job satisfaction, 82, 106, 108 Johns Hopkins University, 58 Kahl, J.A., 5 kinship systems, 115–16, 157 Koselleck, Reinhart, 172, 173 labelling approaches, 5 labour, as a commodity, 28 labour force, 154 labour movement, 148, 165 labour power, 11, 17, 63, 150 laissez faire approach, 163, 166, 167 land development, 144 land distribution, 121 L’Année Sociologique, 37, 41 Latin America, 163– 4 law, 44 legitimacy, 107, 173

185

leisure, 83– 4, 87–8 leisure class, 61 Lepenies, Wolf, 1 Lerner, Max, 60 Levine, Donald N., 41 lifestyles, 29 Lincolm, Abraham, 22, 23 Lipset, Seymour Martin, 161–7, 170 Agrarian Socialism, Social Mobility in Industrial Society, 161 American Exceptionalism – a Double-Edged Sword, 7, 161, 166–7 Continental Divide, 7, 161 and Parsons, 165 Political Man: the Social Bases of Politics, 161 The First New Nation, 7, 161–5 Los Angeles, 141, 142–6 lower class, 138 Lynd, Helen, 79–91 Lynd, Robert, 79–91 Lynd, Robert and Helen Middletown, 7, 80 –5 Middletown in Transition, 7, 85–91 McKenzie, Roderick D., 71, 171 The City, 7, 71–8, 145 Manifesto of the Communist Party, 15–18, 21, 24 Parsons on, 114 market forces, 68 Marxism, 85, 140, 148, 149–50, 154 –5, 158, 160 Marx, Karl, 10 –24, 171 and the American Civil War, 22–3 analysis of class, 12–13 and Arnold Ruge, DeutschFranzösische Jahrbücher, 12 on the class struggle, 28 The Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of the Right: Introduction, 6, 12–13 A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy, 6, 12–13, 14, 21, 24

186

Index

Marx, Karl – continued Critique of the Gotha Programme, 11 Das Kapital, 6, 11, 19–20 Economico-Philosophical Manuscripts, 11 German Ideology, 14 –15 Grundrisse, 18–19, 21 interview with Chicago Tribune, 22 Manifesto of the Communist Party, 15–18, 21, 24 Parsons on, 113–14, 115 on the USA, 33 and Veblen, 60 –1, 63 mass, Sennet and Cobb on, 106 mass migration, 131 mass society, 102, 169 material wealth, 110 Mauss, Marcel, 37 means of production, 150 mechanical solidarity, 38, 39, 56 Merton, Robert K., 148 middle class, 17, 150, 154 black, 132, 133, 137 decline, 143, 169 divisions, 141 emergence, 91 old and new, 94, 95–8 ‘middle range theory’, 148 Middletown, 7, 80 –5 Middletown in Transition, 7, 85–91 migration, 71, 138 military, 98, 100 –1, 142 Mills, C. Wright, 2–3, 92–103, 169, 171 Character and Social Structure, 93 From Max Weber – Essays in Sociology, 92 The New Men of Power, 93 The Power Elite, 7, 95, 98, 102 on social stratification, 102 ‘The Sociology of Stratification’, 93 White Collar, 7, 93, 95–9 Missouri University, 59 mobility, and American society, 119 modernisation, 120 –1

modernity, 122–3 ‘moral regions’, 77–8 moral rules, 38 ‘moral symbols’, and work, 108 Muncie, Indiana, 79–81 National Association for the Advancement of Coloured People (NAACP), 127, 128 Negro Family, 130 Negro in the United States, 130 Neue Rheinische Zeitung, 11 New Deal, 86, 88, 91, 169 New England, 52– 4, 55 New Left Review, 141 New Men of Power, 93 New York University, 105 Niagara Movement, 127 norms, 115, 121 number of employees, 151 occupation Mills on, 94 and prestige, 109 occupational groups, 29 occupational shifts, 131–2 occupational structure, 115, 116 occupational zones, 73–5 opposition, 89–90 order, 174 and conflict, 48 Order of the Elks, 132 organic community, 47 organic solidarity, 38, 39, 56, 77 Page, C.H., 5 Pan African congresses, 127 Park, Robert E., 70 –8, 171 and Burgess, An Introduction to the Science of Sociology, 71 Burgess and McKenzie, The City, 7, 71–8 Parsons, Talcott, 112–23, 170, 171 approach to inequality, 149 levels of analysis of social stratification, 118

Index

Parsons, Talcott – continued on Marx, 113, 119 ‘A Revised Analytical Approach to the Theory of Social Stratification’, 113, 114, 117 ‘Social Classes and Class Conflict in the Light of Recent Sociological Theory’, 113 and sociology, 113 The System of Modern Societies, 7, 114, 120 on Tocqueville, 120 parties, 29–30 pathological forms, 75, 77–8 pecuniary culture, 62, 63, 64 and production, 65 personality, 39 ‘petty bourgeoisie’, 141, 152, 153 Philadelphia Negro, 7, 126 Philadelphia University, 125 Philosophy of Money, 42 pioneering spirit, 66–7 plantation economy, 135, 136 pluralistic social science, 148 Polish Peasant in Europe and America, 71 political economy, Marx’s critique, 10 –24 political equality, 121 Political Man: the Social Bases of Politics, 161 political science, 51 politics, 84, 142 influence, 100 Politics as Vocation, 25 population adjustment, 73 Possibilities for Justice – Civil Society and Its Contradictions, 8 post-industrialism, 154 poverty, USA, 166 power, 94 Parsons on, 117 Weber’s concept of, 27, 29 power elite, 98–100, 101–2, 122, 142 Power Elite, 7, 95, 98, 102 power structure, 99

187

prestige, 94 and competition, 116 and occupation, 109 primitive accumulation, 19, 20 Prisoners of the American Dream, 7, 141 Problems of the Philosophy of History, 42 production, 14 –15, 17, 18–19 and pecuniary culture, 65 proletarianisation, 154 –5 property, 28, 94 Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, 6, 25, 33–5 Protestantism, 34, 119, 120 Protestant work ethic, 27, 33, 52, 55, 86, 163, 164, 168 public, Dewey on, 102 pyramidal stratification, 98 ‘pyramid within a pyramid’, 88, 96, 169 race, 129, 134 declining significance, 137–8 radio, 88 rationalising process, 26–7 real estate, 144 and capitalism, 70 relations of production, 14, 17 religion, 41, 83– 4, 132–3, 164 Calvinism, 33 churches, 132–3 Protestantism, 34, 119, 120 repression, 150 respect, 106 Roosevelt, 86, 91 Ruge, Arnold, 12 Rules of Sociological Method, 6, 37–8 salesmanship, 64, 65, 68 Santayana, George, 125 Sarah Lawrence College, 79 Science as Vocation, 25 scientific continuum, 3– 4, 7–8 segregation, 74 selection, 72

188

Index

self-consciousness, 127 self-employment, 155–6 self-reliance, 106 Sennet, Richard, 104 –11 and Cobb (The Hidden Injuries of Class, 7, 105–11; on Tocqueville, 110) The Fall of Public Man, 104 separation, 47 between commerce and production, 61 of social classes, 75 service sector, 156 ‘shift-share’ analysis, 154 Simmel, Georg, 41–5, 171 on class struggle, 43 on conflict, 42–3 ‘The Metropolis and Mental Life’, 77 The Philosophy of Money, 42 The Problems of the Philosophy of History, 42 Sociology: Investigations on the Forms of Sociation, 6, 42–5 skilled labour force, 154 Small, Albion, 70 social change, 70 social control, 76, 78 social institutions, 60 socialism, 165 social organisation, 74 social relationships, 115 social relations of production, 136 ‘societal community’, 121 society, 56 Durkheim on, 37– 41 origins, 113 primitive and modern, 38, 62 Tönnies on, 47 Sociological Theory Since World War II, 3 Sociology: Investigations on the Forms of Sociation, 6, 42–5 sociology and Parsons, 113 and Weber, 25

solvency, 68 Sombart, Werner, 25 Sorbonne, 37 Sorge, Friedrich, 21, 22, 23 Souls of Black Folk, 127 South, the, 125, 127, 130, 131 ‘sovereignty of the people’, 53 Soviet Union and Du Bois, 128 threat to the USA, 122 spatial separation, 72, 73 specialisation, 73 stability, and social stratification, 116 Stanford University, 59, 161 state of the arts, 62 status incongruity, 105 Parsons on, 118 without substance, 133 status groups, 29 Stock Market Crash, 85 Strasbourg University, 42 strategic advantages, 116 submission, 116 subordination, 44 suicide, 40 –1 Suicide, 37, 40 –1 Sumner, William, 59 Suppression of the African Slave Trade, 125 Sweden class and ideological spectrum, 159 class system, 158 work force, 152–3 System of Modern Societies, 7, 114, 120 system of production, 136 systems, 114 –15, 117–18 Texas University, 92 Theoretical Logic in Sociology, 3 Theory of the Leisure Class, 7, 59, 60 –1 Thomas, W.I. and Florian Znaniecki, The Polish Peasant in Europe and America, 71

Index

Thompson, E.P., 118 Tocqueville, Alexis de, 50 –7, 161, 171 Democracy in America, 6, 51– 4, 162 Sennet and Cobb on, 110 Tönnies, Ferdinand, 45–9, 171 Community and Association, 6, 46–9 on society, 47 ‘tools of freedom’, 105 trade, 67–8 training, 83 transportation, 73 Treitschke, Heinrich von, 125 Truly Disadvantaged, 7, 134, 137–9 underclass, 150, 170, 172 concept, 136, 138–9 unemployment, 65 universal emancipation, 13 universal welfare, 139 urban areas, 75, 145 Urban Control – the Ecology of Fear, 141, 145–7 urban-ecology approach, 145 USA American Exceptionalism, 161, 164, 168 and capitalism, 21–2, 33 Civil War, 22–3, 96, 169 class and ideological spectrum, 159 class structure, 154, 157 class system, 158 country towns, 66, 67 democracy, 51–3 distinguished from Europe, 120 early history, 51– 4 ethnicity and class, 153 government, 166 immigration, 120 independent farmers, 66–7 inequality, 172– 4 labour movement, 165 Muncie, Indiana, 79–81 national identity, 164 New England, 52– 4, 55

189

poverty, 166–7 Revolution, 51, 166 separation of church and state, 34 –5 social structure, 48 society, 21– 4 the South, 125, 127, 130, 131 Soviet threat to, 122 values, 88–9 Weber on, 33 values, 88–9, 117, 121, 164 value system, 164 Veblen, Thorstein, 58–69, 169, 171 Absentee Ownership and Business Enterprise in Recent Times – the Case of America, 7, 59, 64 –8 and Durkheim, 61 The Instinct of Workmanship and the State of the Industrial Arts, 7, 59, 62– 4 and Marx, 60 –1, 63 The Theory of the Leisure Class, 7, 59, 60 –1 and Weber, 68 voluntary organisations, 55 Wagner, Adolf, 125 Washington, George, 162 Weber, Marianne, 25 Weber, Max, 25–35 on bureaucracy, 30 –2 concept of classes, 27–8 concept of power, 27 definition of class, 28–9 Economy and Society, 6, 25, 27–32, 33– 4 Lipset’s references to, 163 ‘philosophical’ approach to history, 26 political orientation, 26 Politics as Vocation, 25 The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, 6, 25, 33–5 Science as Vocation, 25 and sociology, 25

190

Index

Weber, Max – continued and the USA, 33–5 and Veblen, 68 welfare, 95, 167 Weydemeyer, Joseph, 22 White Collar, 7, 93, 95–9 Wilson, William Julius, 133–9, 172 The Declining Significance of Race, 7, 134 –7 The Truly Disadvantaged, 7, 134, 137–9 Wirth, Louis, 77 Wisconsin University, 92, 147 women, working class, 153 work, 82–3, 114, 115 and autonomy, 109 and ‘moral symbols’, 108

working class, 81, 85–6, 89–90, 107–8, 142, 155, 158–9 divisions, 141 and leisure, 87–8 women, 153 world economic crisis, 169 ‘world of reality’/’world of make believe’, 131, 133 Wright, Eric Olin, 147–60 Class Counts, 7, 147, 149–60 Class, Crisis and the State, 147 Classes, 147 Interrogating Inequality, 7, 147–8 Yale University, 58 Znaniecki, Florian, 71

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