The Power of the Stranger

THE POWER OF THE STRANGER

To Henk van den Berg Former Professor of Sociology and Social Work Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, The Netherlands

The Power of the Stranger Structures and Dynamics in Social Intervention – A Theoretical Framework

GERT J.F. LEENE formerly Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, The Netherlands THEO N.M. SCHUYT Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, The Netherlands

© Gert J.F. Leene and Theo N.M. Schuyt 2008 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. Gert J.F. Leene and Theo N.M. Schuyt have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the authors of this work. Published by Ashgate Publishing Limited Gower House Croft Road Aldershot Hampshire GU11 3HR England

Ashgate Publishing Company Suite 420 101 Cherry Street Burlington, VT 05401-4405 USA

Ashgate website: http://www.ashgate.com British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Leene, Gert, 1939The power of the stranger : structures and dynamics in social intervention : a theoretical framework 1. Social service - Netherlands I. Title II. Schuyt, Theo, 1949361.9'492 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Leene, Gert, 1939The power of the stranger : structures and dynamics in social intervention - a theoretical framework / by Gert J.F. Leene and Theo N.M. Schuyt. p. cm. Includes index. ISBN-13: 978-0-7546-7062-9 ISBN-10: 0-7546-7062-7 1. Social service--Research. 2. Evaluation research (Social action programs) 3. Charities--Research. 4. Social action. 5. Social change. I. Schuyt, Theo, 1949- II. Title. HV40.L4146 2008 361.3'2--dc22 2008003561

ISBN 13: 978 0 7546 7062 9 ISBN 10: 0 7546 7062 7 Printed and bound in Great Britain by TJ International, Padstow, Cornwall.

Contents List of Figures and Tables Acknowledgements Introduction: The New Strangers

vii ix 1

1

The Third Element 1.1 The Stranger 1.2 Ways to Fulfil Needs 1.3 ‘The Triad’ 1.4 The ‘Broker’ 1.5 The Triadic Social Intervention Model 1.6 Conditions for the Triadic Social Intervention Model

9 9 11 13 15 16 18

2

Elaboration of a Triadic Social Intervention Model 2.1 The Pattern is the Problem 2.2 Evoking Change in a Local Community 2.3 Managing Social Distance 2.4 Expertise 2.5 Positional Flexibility and Expertise 2.6 Professional Autonomy

21 21 22 23 26 27 28

3

Legitimacy: Contracts 3.1 Community Development by Contract 3.2 Therapeutic Work by Contract 3.3 Triadic Social Intervention by Contract

33 33 36 39

4

Values 4.1 Introduction 4.2 Overcoming Absolute Contrasts 4.3 Doing Right and Doing Good 4.4 Helping and Power

41 41 41 43 45

vi

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Attitude: How to Handle Asymmetry 5.1 The Client under Suspicion 5.2 The Helper as Suspect 5.3 Asymmetry in Helping Relationships 5.4 The Magnetism of Power: Professional Attitude and Asymmetry

51 52 57 65

6

The Role of Magic and Rituals 6.1 Is it like Magic? 6.2 Rituals and Symbols in Cultural Anthropology 6.3 Rituals in Consultancy Practice 6.4 Social Intervention by a Shaman

73 73 74 76 79

7

Community Work as a Third Element 7.1 Introduction: From Theory to Practice 7.2 Community Work in Retrospect 7.3 Social Distance and Linking 7.4 Community Work in the Twenty-first century

81 81 83 85 86

8

Dynamizing the Western European Welfare State Model 8.1 Reconstruction of the Welfare State 8.2 New Models

91 91 93

9

Needs and Philanthropy 9.1 Introduction 9.2 Luhmann 9.3 Mishra 9.4 Societal Context and Variation

Index

68

101 101 102 107 116 121

List of Figures and Tables Figure 1.1 Solving problems by ending the problematic relationship Figure 1.2 Solving problems through the assumption of power Figure 1.3 Solving problems through negotiation Figure 1.4 Solving problems by calling on the ‘third party’: a triadic social intervention model Figure 2.1 Adding the third element Figure 2.2 Adding and removing Figure 2.3 Reducing and increasing distance (Leene 1975) Figure 2.4 Relinquishing the autonomous position Table 2.1 Table 4.1 Table 8.1 Table 8.2 Table 9.1 Table 9.2

Position and role of the third party Coordination of human actions Models of the welfare state The philanthropy model Coordination mechanisms in society Theoretical perspectives on social policy

16 17 17 18 24 25 25 29 28 44 94 96 107 112

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Acknowledgements Both of us studied and worked at the Department of Social Intervention at VU University Amsterdam, The Netherlands, under the tutelage of the department’s founder, Henk van den Berg. In the period 1963 to 1988, with Henk, we immersed ourselves in the sociology of social work, group work and community organization/community development. The course ‘Sociology of Social Intervention’ ceased to exist as a separate discipline in 1988. The time has come to take a look back. This endeavour is driven by the need to preserve that which is beautiful, inspirational and valuable. We hope to bring the philosophical and investigative insights of the Department of Social Intervention to the attention of others who might benefit from them in their own intervention research, now and in the future. This book does bring together a number of theoretical insights, something which, as far as we are aware, has never been done in this way before. An important source of inspiration in this respect is the work of German sociologist Georg Simmel. At the beginning of the twentieth century he wrote a number of articles describing the significance of the third party, the triad in human interactions. The work of Van den Berg was based on books by Roland Warren (The Community of America), Etzioni (The Active Society), and he struck a blow for facilitating and organizing development projects outside of existing systems. His most important book, The Sociology of Helping, problematized the similarities and differences between power strategies and helping strategies. In addition to being a professor, in his free time he was also an accomplished magician. Strange as it may seem, the role of magic in far-reaching processes of change should not be underestimated. Some parts of this book have already been published in international journals: Chapter 6 was previously published as ‘The Magnetism of Power in Helping Relationships: Professional Attitude and Asymmetry’, by Theo N.M. Schuyt in Social Work and Society: Online-only Journal for Social Work and Social Policy, Vol. 2, Issue 1 (2004), pp. 39–53. . Chapter 7 was previously published as ‘Rituals and Rules: About Magic in Consultancy’, by Theo N.M. Schuyt and John J.M. Schuijt in Journal of Organizational Change Management, Vol. 11, Issue 5 (1998), . Chapter 8 was previously published as ‘Philanthropy and Diversification of the Western European “Welfare State” Model’, by Theo N.M. Schuyt in European Journal of Social Work, Volume 4, Issue 1 (2001), pp. 39–44. .We would like to thank the editorial boards for their permission to republish. Finally, we are deeply indebted to the Ashgate commissioning editor, Caroline Wintersgill and to Professor Joan Orme for all their help and support; it has significantly improved the coherence of the text. Gert Leene Theo Schuyt Amsterdam, 2008

Introduction

The New Strangers The transformation of the welfare state in Western Europe has led to an increasing role for citizen-led initiatives, for businesses and for philanthropy in easing, solving or preventing social problems. Help and social change are moving into the hands of strangers – people driven by enthusiasm and commitment but unfamiliar with the pitfalls of social intervention. At the time of the rapid expansion of the welfare state in the Netherlands, the academic discipline of ‘andragology’ (combining practical and theoretical aspects of adult education, social work and community work) reflected on the work of large groups of social workers, group workers, educational workers, community workers and organizational change managers. This was the period from 1970 to 1990. In 1985 ‘andragology’ as an academic discipline was abolished in the Netherlands. The study of social intervention went on to develop further as a discipline in Britain and the United States, as well as countries like Germany and Sweden. There may be a number of explanations for this trend. Some welfare states (Sweden and Britain among them) established a legal basis for professional social work. The legislative assurance of government funding went hand in hand with requirements relating to professionalism and effectiveness. This generated work for universities and attracted students and academic researchers. In other countries, particularly the United States, it was the professionalization of the sector itself which provided the impetus for the emergence of intervention studies as an academic discipline. Professionalization and the integration of social work in welfare state policies resulted in academic journals like the British Journal of Social Work and Social Service Review. In yet another set of countries it was the ongoing interest of academics which put social work on the map as a rewarding field of study, thereby securing its place as a focus of attention within the academic forum. In Germany, the authoritative publication Neue Praxis attests to this process. The field of social intervention is diverse, wide-ranging, and almost impossible to delimit with precision, especially from an international perspective. Perhaps this is the most likely explanation for why no science

2

The Power of the Stranger

of social intervention developed at an international level, as did happen for example with the science of medicine and the science of psychology (with the emergence of clinical psychology), to name but two. In the 1960s some steps were taken in this direction, with the publication of works like The Planning of Change by Bennis, Benne and Chin and Dynamics of Planned Change by Lippitt, Watson and Westley in the United States. In addition to the impossibility of delimiting the field, a second supplementary explanation could be that the knowledge of social interventions is primarily geared towards improving existing situations. Practical knowledge is not a science. However, practical knowledge does make use of scientific insights from various disciplines and for that reason is multidisciplinary in nature. This, in turn, makes it difficult for the field to arrive at its own theoretical frame of reference, a factor which could provide a third explanation as to why independent scientific status was never achieved. In Britain, Lovelock, Lyons and Powell (2004) contributed to this ongoing debate. This book gives an account of the results of research in the area of social intervention in the Netherlands. It attempts to describe a conceptual framework. Central to this are the insights of Georg Simmel on the subject of ‘the third’ and ‘the triad’. Other authors (Caplow, Ramondt, Walton) have developed Simmel’s analysis of the triad for various social domains, but this framework has not, as far as we know, been implemented in the context of consultancy, casework, development work or, in other words, in the field of social intervention. We hope that this book will fill the gap. Reflecting on the role and the significance of the third party – the advisor, the consultant, the social worker, the interim-manager – is important when it comes to analysing and improving the methods used in social intervention. This is not just due to the fact that the appearance of the third element brings about a change in the existing social relations in the formal sociological sense, something which inherently provides an opportunity to change and improve a situation, but also because the third party can introduce new elements to these relations, elements on which the success of the social intervention depends. The ‘third element’ is closely associated with the social distance between human beings and/or organizational units, as well as the differences between types of human beings and the manipulation of these differences. These are the elements which give rise to the movement and dynamics that are vital to interventions which attempt to change and improve situations.

Introduction

3

What can the reader of this book expect? Which subjects will it explore and which questions does it seek to address? Could it be described as a methodology book, for example? The answer to this last question would have to be ‘no, not as such’. The book certainly explores the methods used. And it also has a clear message for practitioners, for professional interventionists: As a professional, use ‘social distance’ in your social intervention by contract in order to ‘dynamize’, as well as ‘asymmetry’ and ‘magic’ to realize change. That said, the book does not propagate a method as such. Its goal is more academic in nature. The book sketches the theoretical backgrounds to a number of basic principles in social intervention. These basic principles play a role in social intervention at micro or individual level (social work/casework, counselling and coaching), at meso or group level (advising organizations, consultancy) and at macro or society level (community work/social development). For instance, the principle of ‘social distance’ is developed according to theories derived from formal sociology, in particular those of Georg Simmel, but also with the help of insights from cultural anthropology. The analysis of ‘asymmetry’ draws from sociology and historical sociology, as well as the sociology of social work. The ‘dynamization’ principle is developed with the aid of Simmel’s formal sociology and the systemic theoretical insights of Warren and Palazzoli. The principle of ‘magic’ stems from cultural anthropology, in which rules and rituals (transitions and rites of passage) are a focus of study. At the practical level of social intervention, these principles display a certain cohesion. The claims of this book could be referred to as an approach, a vision of change. However, we prefer to exercise caution with regard to such claims. First of all, they appear somewhat pretentious given the book’s fragmentary nature and secondly, the notion of formulating a single method for such a diverse domain as that of social intervention is unrealistic. Once again we would like to emphasize that this is not the book’s intention. The theoretical reflection on the basic principles mentioned and the multidisciplinary approach taken in this book could, however, lead to a ‘prototheory’: an elementary system of theoretically responsible relations between intervention principles. Perhaps this should be regarded as an inadvertent result. For the time being, we wish to focus on our original intention: the chronicling of a research tradition.

4

The Power of the Stranger

What is the domain of the research? Without wishing to be exhaustive, the following definition of social intervention is being adhered to here. Social interventions are systematically planned and phased attempts to influence individuals, groups, organizations and larger social units, with the aim of contributing towards preventing, easing and solving social problems. These interventions occur in response to social problems and are based as much as possible on scientific insights. Who is this book intended for? It has been written for those who explore the theoretical side of the how, why and wherefore of social intervention: academics, researchers, students, but also professional interventionists, like consultants, social workers, supervisors, community organizers and policymakers working in this field. Helping and care in West-European countries are once again becoming matters for the citizenry. The government’s role has changed: more interventionism on one hand, more marketization on the other and a growing willingness to create partnerships. This leads to a situation in which assistance programmes are financed through fund-raising campaigns and individual donations, in which people gain more responsibility for the care of their friends and relatives in their own surroundings and to citizens undertaking projects to combat social and societal problems. More will be expected of philanthropy by churches, societal initiatives, volunteer organizations, foundations and corporations. Helping and care are moving into new hands, into inexperienced hands, into the hands of strangers: new strangers. Although these strangers have good intentions at heart, although they are driven by enthusiasm and commitment, they are unfamiliar with the dangers and pitfalls that arise whenever the heart and good intentions come into play. Helping is delicate work. Prosperity and philanthropic efforts go hand in hand in highly industrialized countries. For example, many major foundations (e.g., the Rockefeller Foundation, the Ford Foundation and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation in the United States and the Bertelsmann Stiftung in Germany) arose during periods of industrialization and economic prosperity in the nineteenth and late twentieth centuries. If prosperity is an important condition for the supply of philanthropic efforts, poverty and societal problems are even more important as determinants of the demand side of the equation. In the United Kingdom, the work of Octavia Hill, the Webbs, Joseph Rowntree and the founding of the Charity Organization Society showed the commitment of people to combat the causes of poverty. Individual initiatives are most likely to emerge in times

Introduction

5

of need. How they emerge – and to what degree – therefore depends upon the current structure of society. In smaller communities, social security and care are often arranged within the family unit according to norms of reciprocal services. As societies become more complex, such structures are no longer adequate, and other institutions (for example: religious or civic charities) assume a portion of the responsibilities. As modernization progresses even further, these structures also move into the background, being replaced by government provisions, legal arrangements or collective insurance. The relationship between governmental services and individual effort differs according to societal system. For example, the United States follows a ‘residual model’ with regard to governmental social facilities: the government offers a defined minimum; citizens insure themselves, and philanthropic efforts are relatively widespread. In such West-European countries as England, Sweden, Germany and the Netherlands, the services that are provided by the government are more extensive; the citizens in these countries buy additional insurance as well, but philanthropic efforts are more limited. Such arrangements reflect the ‘institutional model’. Government, market and philanthropy are three mechanisms of allocation that are used to achieve goals involving the common good. Strangely enough, a monopoly of any one of these mechanisms apparently does not lead to a viable society. A monopolist governmental system has come to be known as communism or socialism. This construction generates bureaucracy and limitations to individual freedom. The market offers this freedom as a mechanism. With regard to the common good, however, the market as a monopolistic mechanism of allocation generates conditions of intolerable uncertainty and widespread poverty. The same holds when philanthropy dominates, with paternalism and inequality as the result. Perhaps the solution for the future lies in some form of teamwork among these three mechanisms of allocation, in which the government guarantees a strong foundation, and market and philanthropy create space for dynamics and pluralism of form. Such an arrangement would revert to the principles of the French Revolution: freedom, equality and unity. These developments are appropriate to the transition from the current welfare states of Europe to a ‘civil society’, in which the contributions and responsibilities of individual citizens, societal organizations and businesses receive more attention. The increasing prosperity of some individuals and businesses, the growth of fundraising, fund-raising institutions and foundations, the sharp increase of bequests and ‘named funds’, the interest of banks and

6

The Power of the Stranger

wealth managers in societal goals, the growth of ‘family funds’, corporate foundations’ and ‘corporate giving’ gave rise to a new societal sector – a philanthropic sector – in many highly industrialized welfare states in the last decades of the twentieth century. This sector has deep pockets, its own branch organizations and increasingly joint operations. Involvement and commitment form the basis for philanthropic contributions to public goals. The giver – donor, sponsor, philanthropist, estate donor – ‘has a heart for’ environmental protection, for religion, for research, for ballet, for castles, for music or for whatever non-profit goal. This commitment is direct; it does not flow through taxes or through political decision-making processes. Social involvement can also be expressed through these channels, of course, albeit more indirectly. There is a reason why citizens and corporations must pay taxes. Philanthropic contributions, in contrast, are voluntary. Years of pumping governmental money into social services have made these non-profit organizations dependent on government funding. The availability of these funds has eroded the ‘direct’ involvement – the commitment – of societal ‘stakeholders’: citizens, corporations, foundations, churches (however, tax-paying for the common good may be seen as ‘forced philanthropy’, a form of ‘indirect’ commitment). Over the years, many non-profits have adapted their ways of organization to the political and policy-oriented course of the government, while failing to consider how to organize the commitment of other societal stakeholders. With the increasing importance of philanthropy as a source of financing, next to government funding and market-fees, we can expect a cultural shift to take place in political ideology. The paradigm of the welfare state – ‘public ends through public means’ – will be enhanced with a new paradigm of ‘public ends through private means’. How is this book organized? Chapters 1 and 2 discuss the social intervention principles of ‘social distance’ and ‘dynamization’. The power of the stranger in social intervention is based on the structural position of being ‘outsider’ and ‘insider’ which, in turn, offers possibilities for creating and engineering change. This applies at all levels: individual change, organizational change and community change. Professional intervention always has to be legitimized; a contract may provide a solution, as discussed in Chapter 3. Social intervention is indeed ‘social’ in nature: its aim is to empower people and to enrich organizations or communities. At this point we touch the issue of values. Chapter 4 presents Van den Berg’s ideas on (dis)similarities

Introduction

7

between assistance and power. The mechanism of ‘asymmetry’ appears to play a crucial role in bringing about change. However, it is doubleedged: it is a threat as well as a means of improvement. The successful management of asymmetry depends on the approach of the (professional) interventionist. This theme is examined in depth in Chapter 5. To heighten the impact of social intervention professionals may use the principle of magic, discussed in Chapter 6. A summary of the first six chapters will be provided at the beginning of Chapter 7. Community work in the past and the future will be analysed within the detailed theoretical framework. We then address the more sociological aspects of social policy in Chapters 8 and 9. Chapter 8 argues in favour of dynamizing the welfare state model in Western European countries. Chapter 9 discusses ‘new’ strangers – philanthropists – who are returning to the stage of social intervention. References Bennis, W.G., Benne, K.D., Chin, R. (eds) (1962), The Planning of Change. Readings in the Applied Behavioral Sciences (London: Holt, Rinehart & Winston). Caplow, T. (1968), Two against One: Coalitions in Triads (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice Hall). Lippitt, R., Watson, J., Westley, B. (1958), Dynamics of Planned Change: A Comparative Study of Principles and Techniques (New York: Harcourt Brace). Lovelock, R., Lyons, K., Powell, J. (eds) (2004), Reflecting on Social Work: Discipline and Profession (Burlington: Ashgate). Palazzoli, M.S. (1979), Paradox en tegenparadox. Een nieuwe vorm van gezinsbehandeling (Alphen a/d Rijn: Samsom). Ramondt, J. (1980), Spelende Elites (Alphen a/d Rijn: Samsom). Walton, R.E. (1969), Interpersonal Peacemaking: Confrontations and Third Party Consultation (London: Addison Wesley).

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Chapter 1

The Third Element A person with a problem never runs to a theorist for help. But neither does he rush to a helping professional. Chances are that he will try to work things out for himself and hope to muddle through somehow. If the going gets worse, he might involve his family or friends, or possibly acquaintances who will listen, like bartenders. Only as a last resort and with considerable discomfort does a person with a problem become a ‘client’ being ‘interviewed’ by a ‘practitioner’. Why does a person with a problem go to a practitioner? He goes hoping that this stranger with her theories, her research information, her practice skills, and a host of other abstract tools will enable him to do a better job with his problems than he by himself or with his close associates has done. On the face of it, this is a paradox: that a stranger with good intentions and viable abstractions can make a difference in problem solving. (...) Unless the practitioner can do something different from what the client has already done, there is little chance that she will be more successful than he. (from Bloom 1975, The Paradox of Helping)

1.1 The Stranger The above quotation refers to a crucial aspect of every social intervention, the simultaneous union of nearness and remoteness, which Bloom even elevates to the status of ‘the paradox’. In social intervention, individuals and organizations seek help and support from another, from a stranger, someone from outside. They are not able or are not willing to arrive at a solution themselves and so they look outside their own circle. They end up consulting an ‘outsider’, someone with the supposed power and skill to change the existing situation. Simmel produced an incisive and illuminating analysis of the sociological significance of the stranger, and of his specific qualities. The stranger ‘is fixed within a certain spatial circle, but his position within it is peculiarly determined by the fact that he does not belong in it from the first, that he brings qualities into it that are not, and cannot be, native to it. The union of nearness and remoteness, which every relation between men comprehends, has here produced a system of relations or a constellation which may, in the fewest words, be

10

The Power of the Stranger

thus formulated: The distance within the relation signifies that the Near is far: the very fact of being alien, however, that the Far is near’ (Simmel 1921: 322). From a historical perspective, the trader or travelling salesman is the prototype of the stranger. ‘In the whole history of economics the stranger makes his appearance everywhere as the trader, the trader his as the stranger’ (idem). ‘Trade can always absorb more men than primary production, and it is therefore the most favorable province for the stranger, who thrusts himself, so to speak, as a supernumerary into a group in which all the economic positions are already possessed’ (p. 323). Simmel distinguishes five specific ‘sociological characteristics of the stranger’: a. Mobility. ‘With this mobility, when it occurs within a limited group, there occurs that synthesis of nearness and remoteness which constitutes the formal position of the stranger; for the merely mobile comes incidentally into contact with every single element but is not bound up organically, through the established ties of kinship, locality, or profession, with any single one’ (pp. 323–324). b. Objectivity. ‘Because he is not rooted in the peculiar attitudes and biased tendencies of the group, he stands apart from all these with the peculiar attitude of the “objective”…’ (p. 324). c. Confidant. ‘... that often the most surprising disclosures and confessions, even to the character of the confessional disclosure, are brought to him, secrets such as one carefully conceals from every intimate’. (p. 324). d. Freedom from convention. ‘… he is the freer man, practically and theoretically; he examines the relations with less prejudice; he submits them to more general, more objective, standards and is not confined in his action by custom, piety, or precedents’(pp. 324–325). e. Abstract relations (pp. 323–327). ‘Finally, the proportion of nearness and remoteness which gives the stranger the character of objectivity gets another practical expression in the more abstract nature of the relation to him. This is seen in the fact that one has certain more general qualities only in common with the stranger, whereas the relation with those organically allied is based on the similarity of just those specific differences by which the members of an intimate group are distinguished from those who do not share that intimacy’ (p. 325). What may the relevance be of Simmel’s analysis of the stranger in relation to the subject matter we actually want to investigate: social intervention? It should already be apparent that some of the stranger’s capacities, such as objectivity, the role of confidant and freedom from convention, are in themselves important resources when it comes to setting change in motion.

The Third Element

11

However, before we pursue this notion and proceed to look at other examples of Simmel’s work, we will first consider social intervention as a type of relation. There are a number of paths which can be taken in order to achieve personal goals or realize organizational objectives. Here we will identify four of them. 1.2 Ways to Fulfil Needs Social intervention can take place at the moment that a person, whether he likes it or not, does not have the power to achieve what he wants. The individual in question would prefer to do it on his own, but for whatever reason, he is not capable. A helper jumps in – social intervention takes place – with the intention of making it possible for the individual to arrange his or her own affairs. In general, one can conclude that no one finds it pleasant to depend on help, just as few people look forward to taking on the role of helper for extended periods of time. Nonetheless, everyone helps others and helping is seen as a normal part of human interaction. Helping interactions are therefore usually of a temporary nature. They are discontinuous activities and of changing character: individuals will now assume the role of helper and now the role of the one asking for help. For the purposes of this study, we define helping – and social intervention in general – as ‘contributing to the needs of another or others’ (Luhmann 1975). Social intervention is concerned with a special kind of ‘fulfilment of needs’, namely by way of involving a third party. We will use a few examples at the micro and the macro levels to try and clarify this. People as a rule attend to their own needs. This applies to both material and immaterial needs. If they do not succeed a problem results. To illustrate, we can take an everyday situation. Someone, man or woman, has problems in a personal relationship. A relationship is a bonding between individuals in which certain needs are fulfilled. When this fails to take place, the person can experience this as a problem. What can he or she do? From what alternatives can they choose? In such a situation, one he or she has not desired, there are four choices. The first is to end the relationship, give up the need altogether, and the problem seems, at first glance at least, to disappear. A second option is that the person discusses the problem, talks about it, asks the other party to alter his or her behaviour, and so on. The situation is debated, deliberated, arguments heard, behaviour is adapted and readapted and the relationship can then continue in a satisfying manner, eradicating the problem. It may progress this way, but it could also

12

The Power of the Stranger

happen that the situation becomes explosive. Serious arguments ensue. Battle is engaged, and in battles, power strategies are inevitably involved. People accuse one another of all sorts of things, attempt to be proven right and try to emerge from the fray as the winner. If the partners consider the survival of the relationship more important than the battle over the problem underlying the conflict, then it will be necessary to negotiate for some time. Differences will have to be set aside. Conflicts or power struggles and negotiation succeed one another, at least when both parties wish to continue the relationship. In this situation, in everyday terms, the power struggle is likely to lead to negotiations. A fourth possibility is to call in help. After what is usually an extended period of arguments and negotiations, the parties decide to seek help because they want the relationship to continue but are unable to sort it out themselves. They find someone else to talk it over with, a friend, member of the family or a professional counsellor/helper. By seeking help, one also makes it clear that the battle and/or the deliberation has failed to bring about a solution. This illustration, however simple and familiar it may seem, leads us to distinguish four basic strategies for people to deal with the problems they encounter in satisfying their needs: 1) relinquish/give up the need, 2) assume/apply power, 3) negotiate and 4) call in (outside) help. This example, with these basic strategies, takes place at the micro level. To see if one encounters the same patterns for solutions in dealing with more complex conditions, when groups, institutions and collective units encounter problems in realizing their (collective) needs, we can look at another example, in this case from the social history of Western Europe, during the struggle against poverty in the nineteenth century: social interventions are always closely involved in this particular subject. In most Western European countries at the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries, the industrial revolution resulted in serious increases in the numbers of the poor. As the new working class emerged, labourers lived under impoverished conditions, crowded around industrial centres in large cities. At first, little initiative was taken by the workers themselves to rectify their poverty. People accepted their condition or slid into even more desperate circumstances. In terms of our model, people gave up (on) trying to satisfy their need. A little relief was available in this early period, in the form of help, which was primarily the responsibility of the churches and private initiatives, and which took shape in aid for the poor and charity. Local authorities took on a very small portion of that care. Religious motives played a role, as did the interest in preserving social order

The Third Element

13

(De Swaan 1989; Van Leeuwen 2000). Later in the nineteenth century, the liberal bourgeoisie became active, and along with their participation in poverty management, this group voiced a new motive, pointing to the need for development and schooling for the poor. Humanitarian, or enlightened concerns were here the basis for the help being offered. In the case of the working class, real change only came about when the workers took matters into their own hands and organized themselves. At first, power was developed within the workers’ movement. The syndicated strategy of strikes, social unrest and forcing workers’ rights was responded to both by individual capitalists and parliamentary representatives from the churches and the bourgeoisie with some social lawmaking in income security and health care (power strategy and the workers’ movement). Later, in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, the workers’ movements in most Western European countries took the parliamentary route – in part through universal voting rights – in order to improve the position of the workers (negotiation strategy). This illustration at the collective action level shows the same distinctions in basic strategies for resolving problems: 1) give up satisfying the need, 2) assuming power, 3) negotiation and 4) accepting help. 1.3 ‘The Triad’ Social intervention at both micro and macro levels implies the use of something or someone else to achieve the objective. Simmel (1908) has examined the sociological significance of this use of the ‘third element’. According to Simmel, people are constantly turning ‘dyads’ into ‘triads’.1 Simmel treats the triad as a universally found pattern of human behaviour: people are perpetually creating triads. Individuals, groups and collectives employ the ‘third element’ to resolve many problems, and in this manner, create ‘triads’ or triangular relationships. Can Simmel’s analysis be useful in studying the phenomenon of social intervention? Does calling on a helper constitute the third element? And, if this should be so, how can Simmel’s analysis be illustrated or explained? Indeed, Simmel himself seems to have answered the question unasked

1 The terms are not Simmel’s: he refers to ‘Zweierverbindung’ and ‘Verbindung zu dreien’. The ‘Dyad’ and ‘Triad’ were introduced by Wolff (1950: 123, 135).

14

The Power of the Stranger This peculiar closeness between two is most clearly revealed if the dyad is contrasted with the triad. For among three elements, each one operates as an intermediary between the other two, exhibiting the twofold function of such an organ, which is to unite and to separate. Where three elements, A, B, C, constitute a group, there is, in addition to the direct relationship between A and B, for instance, their indirect one, which is derived from their common relation to C. The fact that two elements are each connected not only by a straight line – the shortest – but also by a broken line, as it were, is an enrichment from a formal sociological standpoint. Points that cannot be contacted by a straight line are connected by the third element, which offers a different side to each of the other two, and yet fuses these different sides in the unity of its own personality. Discords between two parties which they themselves cannot remedy, are accommodated by the third or by absorption in a comprehensive whole. (italics added) (Simmel 1950: 135).

Whenever the direct relationship is problematic, people can resort to an indirect route, a third party who arranges change, but also conciliation. ‘The appearance of the third party indicates transition, conciliation, and abandonment of absolute contrast (although, on occasion, it introduces contrast)’ (Simmel 1950: 145). As well as discussing the change effected by the third party, Simmel explains something about the way in which this happens. ‘It is sociologically very significant that isolated elements are unified by their common relation to a phenomenon which lies outside of them.’ (Simmel 1950: 145). It is precisely the distance that is created by the triad that opens the opportunity for change, a subject which we will later discuss at greater length. Simmel’s analysis of the triad distinguishes three types of third party. The first type is the mediator. This person mediates between two parties if they have a problem that they are not able to resolve. The mediator helps the parties solve the problem. In the case of mediation, the responsibility for resolving the problem remains in the hands of the two initial parties, and the third party has only a mediating – in other words, a helping – role. Otherwise, the third party is of the second type, which Simmel refers to as arbitration. Here as well, two parties have a problem, but they put the solution of the problem in the hands of a third party, the arbitrator. When the arbitrator reaches his decision, the others are bound to it, as they have relinquished their own power. The third type is the tertius gaudens, the ‘laughing third party’. Here, the problem of the other two is used by the third party to his own advantage. This third party does not stand to profit from the resolution of the problem of the other two. Instead, he will

The Third Element

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attempt to see that the conflict continues. To demonstrate this last type, Simmel uses historical examples, such as: Divide et impera – divide and conquer – which was the power strategy used by the Roman Empire, the tertius gaudens. 1.4 The ‘Broker’ Studies in cultural anthropology have also examined the phenomenon of people making use of an intermediary to achieve their purposes (Boissevain 1978; Bax 1970), employing the term ‘brokerage’. Certain observations are relevant – and related – to what Simmel has observed. In ‘Friends of Friends: Networks, Manipulators and Coalitions’, Boissevain examines people who bring other people into contact in exchange for profit (Boissevain 1978). He calls them brokers, and sees them as entrepreneurs and social manipulators. ‘A broker is a professional manipulator of people and information who brings about communication for profit. He thus occupies a strategic place in a network of social relations viewed as a communication network’ (Boissevain 1978: 148–149). Intermediaries or brokers are persons who possess not property (land, jobs, specialized knowledge) but contacts with people who do have property. Boissevain calls the latter group, the property-holders and patrons. Patrons are those with ‘first order resources’ at their disposal. The first group, the brokers, have connections with the patrons and information concerning them and does business with these contacts and information, referred to as ‘second order resources’: ‘A broker is thus a special type of entrepreneur: one who controls second order resources and manipulates these for his own profit’ (Boissevain, ibid: 147–148). People can become brokers if they are prepared to manipulate others. In order to do this, they must meet certain conditions. A first condition is that they assume a central position in a communications network. Brokers must be well informed, and that can only happen if they hold a central position somewhere where information is gathered. Bartenders, shopkeepers and craftspeople are in principle suited to the role of broker. Secondly, brokers must have the time to make and maintain numerous contacts. Boissevain notes in this context that the number of single people who are successful in politics is remarkably large. Thirdly, the broker must have built up a certain level of power in order to succeed in getting others to do something. If not, the broker is not the appropriate path for the person in search of mediation (Boissevain, ibid: 155–158).

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As to what the broker’s power is comprised of and how he profits, a broker seldom asks something in return for his mediation, but builds up credit with the person to whom he has rendered a service. This person in turn is indebted to the broker from that point onwards, noting that this is the essence of the broker’s power strategy. ‘The strategy is to avoid specifying the tariff’ (Boissevain, ibid: 159). In this way, the broker collects an invisible ‘capital’ of contacts with people who owe him something. ‘Do much for people but ask little in return’. With this build-up of credit, the broker is in a position to manipulate. People who go to him for mediation do not know exactly what contacts he might be able to mobilize or just what power he possesses. Consequently, this is how the broker can more easily expand his credit than the owner of ‘first order resources’, because the extent of the latter’s capital can be ascertained by anyone. ‘The broker, in contrast, works behind a screen of ignorance and no one quite knows how far he can reach. He deals in speculation and hope’ (Boissevain, ibid: 161). 1.5 The Triadic Social Intervention Model Employing Simmel’s analysis on the stranger and the ‘third element’ (‘Points that cannot be contracted by a straight line are connected by the third element’) and Boissevain’s analysis of the broker, we return to the four basic strategies for problem resolution with which we began. If people, groups or collectives have problems fulfilling their needs in relation to their environment – which can be other people, groups, collectives or the physical, material or immaterial environment – we recognize in theory four possibilities for solving these problems. We would like to present these in figure form. The first possibility is that the problematic relationship with that environment is broken off.

Figure 1.1

Solving problems by ending the problematic relationship

The Third Element

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A second possibility is conflict and the acquisition of power. One party attempts to impose his will on the other through direct confrontation. This will, as a rule, lead to a sharp reaction on the part of the second party, who in turn attempts to gain the dominant position.

Figure 1.2

Solving problems through the assumption of power

Conflict can result in the termination of a relationship (Figure 1.1) or the parties can decide to enter into negotiations, which will bring them to the next, or third figure. This figure visualizes the possibility that the parties – whether or not following a period of conflict – engage in discussion in order to reach an agreement. Each party has direct contact with the other.

Figure 1.3

Solving problems by negotiation

In Figures 1.2 and 1.3, attempts are made to resolve the problem while maintaining direct contacts between the two parties. A fourth option is to make use of the help of the ‘third element’, the helping party. When people ask for social intervention, they indicate that they wish to continue the relationship, or else they would already have ended the relationship (Figure 1.1), and that they are not achieving results through negotiation or through the use of power (Figures 1.2 and 1.3). By calling on assistance from the helper, the parties use a detour, trying to resolve the problems in the direct relationship through indirect means, namely through the third party.

The Power of the Stranger

18

Figure 1.4

Solving problems by calling on the ‘third party’: a triadic social intervention model

This figure illustrates that the appearance of the helper changes the problematic dyadic relationship into a triad. We will discuss later both Simmel’s and Boissevain’s concepts at greater length, but will first analyse the conditions that are of importance for an individual, a group or a collective unit to choose, or not to choose, to make use of a helping third party. 1.6 Conditions for the Triadic Social Intervention Model When is a third party called upon to help? The relationship between the individual (or group, or collective unit) is proposed as a line that connects two positions. The positions can be seen as two actor positions. From this standpoint, the following statements can be made about the conditions under which a helper is employed: • • •

more than one actor must be involved; they are different in nature; there is social distance between them; problems arise for one or more of the actors, or in the interaction between them, or improvement is considered necessary; the actors do not have the expertise to resolve these problems (lack of help resources), and presume that the helper does have this expertise.

The social distance can be great or small, for example, between two partners who have grown apart. A small social distance could involve ‘being on the same track’, sharing the same tastes or style, or being able

The Third Element

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to imagine what the other does or cares about. Geographical distance does not run parallel to social distance, but it can exert an influence. Greater distance in the spatial sense increases the chance of misunderstandings, as well as the chance of unfamiliarity or uncertainty. The connection can also move in the other direction. For instance, when someone does not feel comfortable with someone else, they will avoid being with that person, or at least attempt to keep the distance between them intact. Social intervention concerns social distance between actors, which is experienced as problematic. The interaction is awkward, the relationship between them has stagnated, run aground, etc. The power aspect can also be distinguished in regard to social distance in a relationship between actors. Who is the more (most) powerful in the relationship? Is it a balanced or an asymmetrical relationship? A powerful actor, faced with problems in a relationship with another actor, will not be quick to call on a helper. He (or she) can resolve the problem directly by making use of his means of power. Power is a direct means of solving problems. A second important condition is the nature of the problem and the improvement that is considered desirable. Is it something serious in the contact with the other actor and is the problem recognized and acknowledged by the other actor? The importance for the respective actors of resolving the problem is also involved. Is it a problem for both actors or does it affect or trouble only one of them? A helper arrives on the scene when the actor or actors do not possess the wherewithal or expertise to solve the problem or to bring about the desired improvements. Even if one of the actors is very powerful, in the end, he or she will call in someone to help. One might think of an authoritarian father, for example, with a son addicted to drugs. Expertise: If the problem is considered important, the involved parties will certainly first try to solve it themselves. If they fail to succeed, because their resources for improving the situation are insufficient, or because they lack the necessary expertise, this will increase the likelihood that the actors will seek outside help. References Bax, M. (1970), ‘Patronage Irish Style: Irish Politicians as Brokers’, Sociologische Gids 17, 179–191. Bloom, M. (1975), The Paradox of Helping (New York: Wiley).

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Boissevain, J. (1978), Friends of Friends. Networks, Manipulators and Coalitions (Oxford: Blackwell). Leeuwen, M.H.D. van (2000), The Logic of Charity (London: Macmillan Press). Luhmann, N. (1973), ‘Formen des Helfens im Wandel gesellschaftlicher Bedingungen’ in Otto, H.U. and Schneider, S. (eds), Gesellschaftlicher Perspektiven der Sozialarbeit (Neuwied und Darmstadt: Luchterhand), 21–43. Palazzoli, M.S. (ed.) (1979), Paradox en Tegenparadox. Een nieuwe vorm van Gezinsbehandeling (Alphen a/d Rijn: Samsom). Simmel, G. (1908), in Wolff, K.H. (1950), The Sociology of Georg Simmel (New York: The Free Press). Simmel, G. (1921), ‘The sociological significance of the stranger’, in Park, R. and Burgers, E. Introduction to the Science of Sociology (Chicago: University of Chicago Press), 322–327. Swaan, A. de (1988). In Care of the State (Cambridge: Polity Press).

Chapter 2

Elaboration of a Triadic Social Intervention Model When analysing social intervention using a ‘third element’ – as we are doing here – these interventions should at the very least be considered with reference to the following characteristics of the intervening party: • • •

what is the position of the intervening party? what resources (expertise) does the intervening party possess? how does the intervening party legitimize his or her actions?

These themes will be dealt with in the course of this chapter and those to follow. How does the ‘third party’ – the ‘broker’ – carry out social intervention? With the triadic model, we first have particular interest in a further analysis of the position of the intervening party, the helper. On the one hand, the helper works on behalf of the client, group or collective unit, while at the same time taking care to maintain an objective position between himself or herself and the other party. The helper consequently ‘plays’ with the social distance which he or she has in relation to the demanding party (client, organization). To be more precise, the intervening party uses social distance as a means of achieving change. In this chapter, we investigate whether – and to what degree – this means is an essential element of the helper’s expertise. 2.1 The Pattern is the Problem A person, organizational unit or larger group seeking help wants to escape from an undesired situation. There is a need for something to change. Social intervention, therefore, is virtually synonymous with change. In terms of the triadic social intervention model, the undesired or problematic situation refers to stagnated interactions or relationships (patterns, structures) between an individual, group or collective and their

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environment, producing a situation that has disadvantageous consequences for those involved, and for which direct interactions have produced no effect or inadequate effect. The definition of a problem as an interaction that has come to a standstill is consistent with the problem definitions in system theory as it is used in family therapy (Palazzoli 1979; Watzlawick et al. 1973; Minuchin 1973; Haley 1971; Kantor and Lehr 1975). Problems in family therapy are viewed as the result of the interactions of the family members. These problems can sometimes have been precipitated some generations previously. Through their interactions with one another, the family develops a problem-causing pattern, which results in one or more members of the family experiencing problems. The cause of the problem is not necessarily a given member of the family, but the rules, the pattern or the structure by which the family lives. For the members of the family itself, this pattern is self-evident and has therefore become invisible to them. The first role of the therapist is to discover those family rules. This is possible when the therapist becomes a part of the family, while at the same time observing and analysing that family structure. In a follow-up to Haley, Van der Hart and Rubinstein (1980) see therapy as ‘a strategic or tactical game in which the therapist, with certain actions or counteractions, tries to break through the behaviour patterns of his clients, in order to make new, satisfactory behaviour possible’ (1980: 71). Because the family will do everything in its power to maintain those family rules and structures, they will attempt – consciously or otherwise – to involve the therapist in the ‘game’. The way not to fall prey to this pressure is to maintain enough distance. To this end, family therapy has developed a series of techniques, including working together with a second therapist, using a one-way screen, discussing the case with colleagues, and so on. 2.2 Evoking Change in a Local Community In his study of a community development project in the municipality of Helmond (Ontwikkelingsproject Helmond), Leene describes the process of the project’s development over a period of five years (Leene 1975). The goal of the project was to create a dynamic situation within previously existing relationships. Leene analysed the professional role of the development work in this process as follows: The uniqueness of development work, in the formal sense, lies in the fact that it can intervene as an independently imaginable and identifiable actor in the existing course of events. This intervention can take all kinds of forms.

Elaboration of a Triadic Social Intervention Model

23

Development work clarifies, makes people aware, convinces, organizes, structures, fights, conducts campaigns and so on. Since development work is so strongly bound to the concept of social change and social intervention, it therefore follows that development work will be a fairly discontinuous activity. Of course, development work can fill certain secondary functions on the basis of which more continuous institutionalization can be achieved, but the core function is by nature discontinuous. When one speaks of intervention, one immediately raises the question of legitimacy. In Helmond, that legitimacy was organized in “public and periodic contracts” with local government, private institutions and various resident groups. Development creates newly dynamic conditions because it fulfils a function that regulates distance within the local arena. This distance regulation can be either the reduction of distance or the increase of distance’ (Leene 1975: 297).

Development work shifts within the context of the local arena. Sometimes it is the residential group who receives support, sometimes the government institution or private organization. ‘The eccentric position of the change agent must provide the residents with the opportunity to organize themselves’ (Leene 1975: 301). 2.3 Managing Social Distance To see how dynamics are created in stagnant relationships in families or in such social structures as those in Helmond, we use the triadic social intervention model as a basis. There are three ways of working with social distance by which the intervening party can bring motion into inert interaction and structures: 1) by adding his own position; 2) by adding and removing; and 3) by regulating distance. We will now take a separate look at each of these positional manoeuvres. Creating Dynamics by Adding the Third Element In the formal sociological sense, a triad is formed by the appearance of a helper in a relationship between the individual, group or collective and his or their environment. This third party brings about a dynamic situation and, consequently, change. As mentioned in Chapter 1, this idea of the ‘third element’ is borrowed from Simmel, who has also devoted study to the sociological significance of the ‘stranger’ (Simmel 1921). In fact, organization and counselling work, interim management and many other forms of advisory activity are based on the same principle. Because the ‘third element’ is now included in the exchange, a process of ‘changing

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coalitions’ can develop (Caplow 1968: ‘Two against one; coalitions in triads’; Walton 1969; Ramondt 1980). In this context, a holiday with two people or with three people can serve as a good illustration. The pattern of interaction in the group of three is more complex than that of two persons. This dynamic is the result of the addition of several new relationships. With the appearance of the ‘third element’, the number of positions increases by one, but the number of actual relationships jumps from one to three. This can be visualized in the model:

Figure 2.1

Adding the third element

Creating Dynamics by Adding and Removing The intervening party enters into the problematic system and thereby creates the possibility for change. In order to achieve this, the helper alters his or her own position in a skilled manner. ‘He alternately enters in and removes himself’ (Minuchin 1973: 162). The change is in part stimulated by the fact that the helper deals with social distance in a special way. He is at once very close yet far removed. The helper is someone from outside, who also discusses the problematic system outside that system itself and comes up with strategies, while also being someone who experiences the situation, someone who is also on the inside. This is represented in Figure 2.2. Creating Dynamics by Regulating Distance The intervening party also works with the mechanism of social distance within the problematic system. Leene described the use of social distance in the Helmond development project (1975), by saying that with the

Elaboration of a Triadic Social Intervention Model

Figure 2.2

25

Adding and removing

appearance of the ‘intervening position’, the mechanism of social distance brings about a reduction of the distance on the one hand and increased distance on the other. When organization A cannot directly communicate with organization B, and it is the helper’s task to make that communication possible, then the respective distance from organization A and organization B to the helper must be shortened, while the distance from A to B becomes longer. Represented in the triadic social intervention model:

Legend: Distance reduction: e < d en f < d Distance increase: e + f > d

Figure 2.3

Reducing and increasing distance (Leene 1975)

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The third element can enhance the effect of this distance regulation by shifting his own position within the problematic system. He can support organization A, by which the distance e becomes very short and the distance f very long. At a subsequent point he can offer support to organization B, whereby the distance f becomes very short, and e very long. Through his positional flexibility, the helper attempts to turn static interactions and structures into dynamic ones. Positional Flexibility within Asymmetric Relationships When the third element is confronted with an imbalance in the (power) positions in the problematic system, he can in theory choose from three positions: • •

•

the ‘up position’, close to the more powerful of the actors; the ‘down position’, close to the weaker of the actors. The intervening party can be permitted this centrifugal position, given the nature of the problem: ‘It does not matter what you do, as long as you solve the problem for us’; the ‘independent or professional position’. For each problem, the helper selects his own position, based on his expertise (Schuyt 1991: 309–314).

2.4 Expertise If individuals, groups or collectives are foundering and find themselves unable to resolve a situation under their own power, it is precisely the detached vision or contribution of a less involved person, someone with a fresh view of the situation, that can help people move on. What the person seeking help absolutely does not want is for the helper to repeat what he or she has already thought of or what the environment has to report. Information of this kind will have already been exchanged by the parties themselves and is by now a part of the problem itself. Accordingly, people who are closely involved with the problem are often not those best suited to the role of helper. In this case proximity is more a drawback than an advantage. Adding a new position or changing positions within the problematic system is a necessary condition for change, but it does not totally suffice. If the intervening party has nothing to add to the situation, has no resources for help activation, then there will be no change or movement on the part

Elaboration of a Triadic Social Intervention Model

27

of the actors or in the overall situation. Here, we reach the limits of the explanatory strengths of positional analysis. We therefore move now from a formal analysis to the more content-orientated aspects and qualities of the helper. Wherein lies the skill, the substance of the expertise of the third element? Here we can again look back to the analyses of Simmel and Boissevain. To fill in the specific role of the third party, Simmel refers to the ‘objectivity’ aspect. Thanks to this objectivity, the third party can mediate, arbitrate, or indeed, in the role of tertius gaudens, manipulate. Boissevain’s analysis of the ‘broker’ introduced another aspect of expertise, namely the powers of the helping position itself. The helper can meet with success when he has access to given resources for help. These could be contacts, credit previously accumulated, specific expertise, or indeed, the skill to arouse ‘speculation and hope’ on the part of those seeking help. 2.5 Positional Flexibility and Expertise We now want to bring together the two methodological elements that the third element makes use of: regulating social distance and relevant expertise. When one combines the two, it then appears that the position assumed by the intervening party has a direct correlation to the kind of expertise that he has to contribute, and vice versa. This position and role is primarily determined by the nature of the relationships within the problematic system and by the nature of the problem at hand. In an escalating conflict between neighbourhood groups and a local government authority, if indeed he is asked to mediate, an intervening party will adopt a distant (professional) position in order to ensure that he is not dismissed as implausible or ineffectual by one or the other of the parties. In this case, he will make use of his role as impartial third party. He will concentrate primarily on weakening the respective standpoints of the two parties and introducing new standpoints, and/or clarifying the (undeclared or non-evident) elements of the existing points of view. The third party will have to manipulate, will have to change his own position, and so on. He will play the role of the active broker. In a less tense situation, the intervening party might be able to assume a more technical, mediating role. When the problem is serious, and particularly when specific to a single actor, while it is nonetheless important to the other actor that the problem be resolved, the third party can permit himself to take on the role of mobilizer or supporter.

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In table form: Table 2.1

Position and role of the third party

Nature of the problem Nature of the relationship 1. Serious problem/one sided 2. Serious problem/two sided 3. Simple problem/two sided

Position of the third party Role of the third party Close to the problematic actor Changing position Central position

Mobilizer/Supporter Social manipulator/ Broker Mediator

2.6 Professional Autonomy Having the flexibility to switch his own position presumes independence and autonomy on the part of the third party. This autonomy is sometimes not sufficiently recognized or acknowledged, indeed, by either the requesting party or by the helper. We will examine a number of examples here. The Third Party as Non-person The importance of maintaining social distance and autonomy in order to set change in motion will probably become clearer as we look at those helpers who do not adhere to the principle of social distance. For whatever motive – personal involvement or conviction, for example, solidarity or trying to behave democratically – one may want to be on equal ground with the individual, group or collective unit that is in need of assistance. In group work, one comes across helpers who hold the view that ‘the group should determine what takes place’. If this is the case – such a statement can comprise part of a considered therapeutic strategy – the helper gives up his or her autonomous position and becomes a member of the group. In other words, the number of group members in need of help is increased by one, namely the helper. The Difference between Solidarity and Identification Another variation of not acknowledging the importance of social distance is when the helper completely identifies with the purposes of the help-seeker

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and joins in. This is a frequent occurrence in community work. Helpers, community workers in this case, join the action groups they mean to assist. Here too, they increase the number of group members by one. Helpers are also frequently put under pressure by the help seekers to join them. In family therapy, the literature refers to this phenomenon by saying that ‘… the therapist loses his freedom to act if he succumbs to the pressure of the family to join in with them in such a way that he adds to or reinforces the organization of the family. He can no longer impose any restructuring interventions’ (Minuchin 1973: 182). Giving up the autonomous position – and consequently the social distance – can also be shown in the model. In many helping relationships, not enough distinction is made between the concepts of solidarity and identification. A helper may agree with, feel solidarity with the group for which he is acting. But this is nonetheless not the same thing as identifying with that group. Rümke has spoken in this context of ‘maximal proximity while maintaining distance’, and also of ‘two steps towards the client and one step back’ (Rümke 1948: 24).

Figure 2.4

Relinquishing the autonomous position

The Helper as Leader One area of social intervention where considerable reflection on the nature of the contribution of the helper does take place is that of individual and family therapy. In both individual therapy and family therapy, very sharp distinctions are made between the individual or the group faced with a problem and the helper. ‘The therapist considers and presents himself as a professional with whose knowledge and experience the client will hopefully be helped out of his problems’ (Van der Velden 1980: 18). ‘The tactics that

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the therapist uses to gain access to the family create the therapeutic system and give him the position of leader’ (Minuchin 1973: 161). Involvement and Relative Autonomy of the Helper The third party operates in the framework of the interactions between an actor and his environment, and is therefore ‘imprisoned’ within these interactions, or more precisely, in the system that is created by the interactions between the actors involved. In this sense, the intervening position is a restricted one. Because the position is inside the interactions, the third party can never become fully united with one of the actors, or at least not for any extended period. The helper can, however, support one of the actors, if ‘over a given period, all of the parties involved are also benefited’ (Leene 1975: 298). The helping position is therefore relatively autonomous. On the one hand, it implies involvement in the system of interaction that is created by the actors. The third element cannot eradicate this system, as this can only be done by the actors themselves (perhaps thanks to the support of the helping position), and if the interactions have ceased, the helping position is no longer of any interest for the original problem. On the other hand, the third element does have the freedom to expand its own autonomy, by introducing greater expertise, or instead to decrease that autonomy, by electing to side with one or other of the actors. By taking a very close position to one actor, the helper creates a situation in which the remaining actor is confronted with two actors (the one actor + the helping position) which closely resemble one another. At this point, the second actor will be less benefited by – or less open to – the intervention of the helping position. In this context, Minuchin (1973: 198) wrote: ‘If the therapist sides with one family member, he must be very accurately aware of the limits of tolerance of his ally and of the other members of the family. He runs a high risk of causing the party who is the object of the coalition, and often the entire family, to break off the therapy. It is important even in the middle of an attack that there still be some support shown for the actor who is the objective.’ We have discussed here the methodical aspects of triadic social intervention. Because we perceive triadic social intervention as planned social change, the third element will have to employ specific instruments in order to set those changes into effect. We have touched on two of those instruments: 1) positional flexibility to manage social distance, and

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2) relevant expertise in terms of the problem. Next to his independent position and expertise, the third element, however, needs to legitimate its intervening activities. References Caplow, T. (1968), Two against One: Coalitions in Triads (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice Hall). Haley, J. (1971), Changing Families: A Family Therapy Reader (New York: Grune and Stratton). Hart, O. van der, and Rubinstein, T. (1980), ‘Strategische en tactische aspecten van therapie’, in K. van der Velden, Directieve therapie 1 (Deventer: Van Loghum Slaterus), 71–87. Kantor, D. and Lehr, W. (1975), Inside the Family (London: JosseyBass). Leene, G.J.F. (1975), Werken aan de samenleving per contract. Een casestudy van het ontwikkelingsproject Helmond 1968-1973 (Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit, Sociaal Wetenschappelijk Instituut). Minuchin, S. (1973), Gezinstherapie. Analyse van de gezinsstructuur en gezinsstructuur therapie (Utrecht/Antwerpen: Het Spectrum). Palazzoli, M. S. (1979), Paradox en tegenparadox. Een nieuwe vorm van gezinsbehandeling (Alphen a/d Rijn: Samsom). Ramondt, J. (1980), Spelende Elites (Alphen a/d Rijn: Samsom). Rümke, H.C. (1948), Studies en voordrachten over Psychiatrie (Amsterdam: Scheltema en Holkema). Schuyt, Th.N.M. (1991), ‘Community work in Sweden, Great Britain and the Netherlands. A Contribution from Sociology’, in Bergsten, B. (ed.) Etik, Solidaritet Välfärd (Göteborg: Daidalos), 309–314. Simmel, G. (1921), ‘The Sociological Significance of the Stranger’, in Park, R. and Burgers, E. Introduction to the Science of Sociology (Chicago: Chicago University Press), 322–327. Velden, K. van der (ed.) (1980), Directieve Therapie 1 (Deventer: Van Loghum Slaterus). Walton, R.E. (1969), Interpersonal Peacemaking: Confrontations and Third Party Consultation (London: Addison Wesley). Watzlawick, P., Helmick Beavin J. and Jackson, D. (1973), De pragmatische aspecten van de menselijke communicatie (Deventer: Van Loghum Slaterus).

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Chapter 3

Legitimacy: Contracts

When the IAF (Industrial Areas Foundation) enters into a contract with a local group, this is followed by highly visible activity. Staff members come in. They survey the area. They talk to people. They listen. This is followed by a dramatic use of direct action. Interest is stimulated. Inertia and apathy are overcome. A local council is organized. All of this activity stands in sharp contrast to the years of dull meetings, which preceded the invitation of Alinsky (Schaller 1966).

Saul D. Alinsky was in the sixties a well-known community and mass organizer in the United States who was invited and also in part paid by his clients. He signed a contract agreement with community groups. The community, as it were, signed on, thereby committing themselves to Alinsky’s rules and strategy (demonstrations, strikes, and so on) for the events to follow. One principle for us is that a formal and analytical triad is in fact always created in social intervention: the client (system), the helper and the environment. Our theory is that social intervention takes place in series of implicit or explicit contract agreements. In the triadic social intervention model, we propose social intervention as a planned social change, undertaken by a professionally autonomous, expert ‘third element’. This intervention requires legitimacy, and the contract provides the third with that requisite legitimacy. 3.1 Community Development by Contract Alinsky engaged a contract not with local government, but with the local population. He rented himself out to community residents for a given period. In the ghettos, the residents themselves had to organize the leadership of their neighbourhood organization, as well as its financial resources. Spigt (1974) stated that development work brings about change through the use of existing strengths, in order to improve the effective functioning

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of individuals, groups and collective social structures. In this case there are two parties involved: the helping development workers and the people making use of their services. If certain conditions are met – awareness of the problem, awareness of its resolvability, awareness of the availability of capable, external help – then the two parties can agree on a contract. Spigt refers to a helping contract of a moral nature. Like Alinsky, Spigt uses the contract concept in terms of the change agent-client system relationship. In Alinsky’s case, the client system provided both the financial means and the managerial and executive manpower. What is subsequently of importance is what Spigt has to say about the nature and the function of the contract. Development work is by definition associated with social change. Some resistance is functional, which is to say that it is immediately concerned with the change objective. Many types of resistance or insecurity, however, are not. In all the changes envisioned, the contract between the change agent and the client system means that there are now a number of ‘invariables’ for the duration of the engagement. The contract thus creates a nest in which the desired process of social change can take on a more focused and rapid course. As long as people’s protests are not particularly objective-orientated, energy will be sapped from the proposed process of social change. Along with this point of focusing energy as a function of the contract, Spigt also strongly accentuates the element of keeping the objective of the development process uncontaminated and not allowing this objective to become mixed up with those of outside parties. Through the unambiguous nature of the mutually agreed contract relationship, influences from outside are much more directly recognizable as such and more easily traced. In a final comment on Spigt, we note the content of the contract, and see immediately its strongly social-interventionist, professional character. To summarize, it concerns the self-determination and (self-imposed) responsibility of the client system, a professional approach and acceptance of the client system, confidentiality, and finally, a practical estimate of the costs in terms of time, money and energy. As was the case with Alinsky, Spigt stresses the importance of the notion that the contract makes demands on the client system. The Helmond Development Project In 1968, the Helmond local government called on the assistance of the North Brabant Provincial Development Organization to help resolve local social

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problems (Leene 1975). Based on a critical diagnosis of the local situation, the development agency decided to implement a social development team of limited composition, in which social debutants would be expected to be able to play a stimulating role. In exchange for continued support from the development organization, the local authorities accepted the diagnosis and the recommendations. This was the first contract, between the development organization and the local government. In August 1970, over forty people signed up for participation in the development group. In a dialogue between these forty and the development organization, and not involving local government, a second contract was agreed on, specifying the working methods of the group. This contract came about with considerable guidance and leadership from the development organization. Whereas the specifics of the first contract favoured the policies of the city council, the second contract was principally aimed towards providing the residents enough space within the desired development processes. At the moment that the second contract took effect, the development organization could begin to shape a working relationship with the private social welfare institutions. We see a 1971 report, which sketched the general situation and delineated lines of development for local private initiative, as the foundation for a third contract. In a more general sense, we can say the following about the contract approach in the Helmond project. The Provincial Development Organization, and later the local development bureau and the development group were part of a situation that they themselves experienced as a tripartite structure with three different contracts, which of course, did have certain cross-references. The contracts were public. They were intended to be valid for a given period of time and were relatively detailed in nature. The construction of the contract is something with which the provincial organization themselves were very closely involved. A contract, then, can comprise a diagnosis, a commonly shared definition of the situation, respective behaviour guidelines, and/or expectations and obligations for the various parties. The development worker will also principally recognize his or her own position in the whole construct for the duration of the contract. There is no need to be neutral in the design of the contract or to represent the average opinion. On the one hand, contracts tend to broaden some margins of certainty, and on the other hand, they tend to increase the social tensions around the social issues addressed by the contract.

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3.2 Therapeutic Work by Contract At least three types of contract may be distinguished: • • •

the contract as an abstract social cooperation model (Rawls 1974); the contract as a legal agreement; the contract as a serious declaration of intent.

In both therapeutic (case) work and development work, we are primarily concerned with contracts of the third type, although the second type is by no means absent in these fields. Regular labour agreements, of course, belong to the second type. For our purposes, we will concentrate on the work of Egan and of Lange and Van der Hart. These writers are concerned with describing the nature, content and function of the third type of contract in the area of public mental health. Egan: Contractual Behaviour and Social Change In ‘Encounter: Group Processes for Interpersonal Growth’, Egan (1970) distinguishes natural groups and contract groups. In naturally existing groups, matters take their course in a self-evident fashion, as they always do. In contract groups, however, certain existing conditions are expressly and intentionally changed in order to instigate more far-reaching changes (improvements). For example, in a contract group, members could agree to divide speaking time equally amongst all the group members. In the situations that Egan describes, the trainer (facilitator) is frequently the one who designs the contracts. Egan speaks of two sorts of interactions in contract groups: N interactions (Natural behaviour) and C interactions (Contractual behaviour). For Egan, the function of the contract is to establish a structure and therefore reduce uncertainty and ambiguity within the training situation. The reduction of complexity can concern all kinds of dimensions: a limited, practical objective, a limited number of contract partners, a contract for a given period of time. One element is prominent in Egan’s work, one that we can also find in both Alinsky and in the Helmond project: the dynamic potential of the contract. Where immobility reigns, as a product of apathy, neurosis, social conflict or uncompromising polarization, a contract can introduce the possibility of making a step forward. Contracts invite parties to reach beyond their normal behaviours. Herein lies a logical connection between contractual thinking and the idea of social change. Explicit contract agreement means

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that the existing, latent or non-effective contract is no longer in effect. The designer of the new contract will attempt to get beyond the dysfunctional N interactions. We have already seen that Egan also refers to the contract idea in terms of natural groups as well as contract groups. Each group exists on the basis of a contract, a set of game rules, a collection of objectives, means and acceptable behaviour patterns. In Egan’s case, we are talking about a contract approach when change agents a) analyse and evaluate the existing, generally implicit contracts within social systems, and b) attempt to set up new, explicit contracts in collaboration with the parties concerned. Without the contract, nothing in the group will change. ‘The failure of a group to elaborate for itself some kind of viable contract leads to the “death” of the group.’ Egan further goes into a number of aspects of the contract and the contract approach: • •

• •

•

•

contract specificity: there are vague contracts and detailed contracts; contract articulation: contracts are not always spelled out. There can be planned ambiguity in both the specificity and the articulation of a contract, because one expects it to have the effect of speeding up the process; contract change and revision: contracts can be altered as events progress: ‘The rules might well change’; contract standardization: for both the change objective and for training or research, people can work with standard contracts. We can compare, for example, a given type or style of intervention; the weight of the contract: there are high-powered and low-powered contracts. We speak of a high-powered contract when the agreed game rules, purposes, means, and so on are almost perpendicular to those of the N interactions. In Helmond, the Provincial Development Organization succeeded in creating very high-power contracts and in getting them accepted. Egan makes a connection between the character of the weight of the contract groups and their laboratory character, which is consistent with the discontinuous nature of the social change function; contract groups distinguish themselves, amongst other things, by a greater visibility of the objectives, means and rules of behaviour for the group, by the reduction of uncertainty, and with it, the strong potential for change. By making the contracts explicit, people can have better control over the N interactions that are dysfunctional in terms of the objectives of the group.

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Lange and Van der Hart: Intervention and Relationship Contracts based on Exchange We now take a look at Lange and Van der Hart’s contract approach in family therapy (1973). The authors deal with behavioural therapy in small social systems, such as families and personal relationships. From a behaviourist standpoint, many problems within these social systems can be described as situations in which the parties have (mutually) forgotten to reward one another. The interactions are frequently destructive. Behaviour contracts – agreements between two or more persons in which each party has indicated in concrete form which activities he or she will realize in a given period – are intended to bring about an upwards spiral of mutually rewarding behaviour. The contracts are strictly based on the principle of reward – one good turn deserves another. As is true with Egan, the behaviouristic nature and the prospective character are prominent: there is no deep historical, causal or psychoanalytical digging going on, but futureorientated agreements on behaviour, based on mutual exchange. Lange and Van der Hart list a number of the principles underlying the contract approach: •

• • •

•

•

formulate the desired behaviour of the other party in positive and concrete terms: build up the first contracts on the basis of small, achievable steps and make use of frequently repeated behaviour; initially, the therapist helps finalize the contract. In the course of time he gradually reduces his role; contracts can at first either be written down or kept in trust by the therapist; prior to the contract agreement, an inventory can be made of the conflict areas, as well as the strong points and desires on both sides; there can sometimes be a need to carefully monitor the problematic behaviour in order to determine a kind of line zero against which positive changes can be compared; it is hoped that in the course of time, without the therapist interfering, the parties will apply the exchange and contract principle themselves (transfer of change). The therapist should carefully follow this developing process of generalization and stimulate it by fulfilling a looser intermediary role.

Lange and Van der Hart are of the opinion that in addition to their applying to couples and families, these principles and techniques can also be

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applied to other durable social systems. In effect, they concern a) making the respective/mutual expectations explicit and b) the implementation of respective/mutual desires. Again and again, with these authors as well, the reduction of uncertainty demonstrates itself to be a vital facet of the process of change. Within the social intervention triad, Lange and Van der Hart distinguish between intervention contracts and behaviour contracts. The first regulates the relationship between the client and the change agent, and the second the relationship between the clients. A comparable distinction would seem to be applicable in the development work that we have described: we were there concerned with intervention contracts and with relationship contracts between the parties that were present in the field. What becomes evident is that the intervention contracts can change into a kind of series (‘successive structuring’), and that within a social system, different, successive parties can be won over to the contract (as in the Helmond Development Project). Finally, Lange and Van der Hart take into account that the contract approach does not mean the dawn of the Age of Freedom for the individual parties. The contract approach implies thinking – repeatedly framed in specific episodes – in terms of an optimal balance. And that is progress, if one remembers that line zero was comprised of destructive interactions. 3.3 Triadic Social Intervention by Contract In therapeutic (case)work, development work and in social intervention in general, one refers to social change in individuals, groups or collectives, and more specifically, planned social change, in part through the addition of social intervention by an autonomous helping position (the ‘third element’). This triadic social intervention requires legitimacy, and the contract provides the helping position with that legitimacy. The autonomous helping position is a potential means of change. Whether this potential means also proves to be a means of effecting change in practice depends on the skills or expertise of the helping position. Planned social change, finally, is a discontinuous activity. The helping position is only made use of temporarily. Contracts determine the relationship between the helping position and the client system. They force the helper to think about his or her relationship to the client system. The heart of the contract agreement is that (planned) social change goes hand in hand with uncertainty, fear and

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resistance. The contract therefore arranges certain elements in and around the change process. It gives ‘certainty’ and assurance on the one hand, yet also increases the tension required to effect that change. In Chapter 6 we will discuss a different mechanism to overcome uncertainty, analysing the role of magic. References Egan, G. (1970), Encounter: Group Processes for Interpersonal Growth (Belmont: Brooks/Cole Pub. Co). Lange, A. and O. Van der Hart (1973), ‘Kontrakten en opdrachten in relatietherapie’, TMW 27:21, 517–527. Leene, G.J.F. (1975), Werken aan de samenleving per contract. Een casestudy van het ontwikkelingsproject Helmond 1968-1973 (Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit, Sociaal Wetenschappelijk Instituut). Rawls, J. (1974), A Theory of Justice (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Schaller, L.E. (1966), Community Organization: Conflict and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon Press). Spigt, K. (1974), ‘Waarom moeilijk als het eenvoudig kan?’, in Nimobulletin, 8: November. 240–243.

Chapter 4

Values Give me a fish and I will eat today; teach me to fish and I will eat the rest of my life (Stryker 1984: 12).

4.1 Introduction How does the third element deal with its legitimacy? Of course, interventions may be explicitly arranged in contracts, but which professional values may be linked to third party interventions? We turn back to Simmel. 4.2 Overcoming Absolute Contrasts Simmel’s analysis of the triad also provides points that assist in formulating criteria in terms of the values of the intervening party. The Third is a Function of the Problematic Relationship Simmel states that the tendency that people have to turn dyadic relationships into triads can be explained by way of the functions that the triad fulfils. Under certain conditions, a triadic social intervention relationship can be created when the dyadic relationship is problematic. The third is therefore a function of the problematic, direct relationship. This is apparent, for example, when something changes in the dyadic relationship. The parties involved could increase their own competence in terms of the problem, or the problem could disappear. In those cases the third no longer has any purpose. Helping on Behalf of Direct Relationships On the basis of Simmel’s conclusion that ‘Discords between two parties which they themselves cannot remedy, are accommodated by the third’(Simmel 1950: 135), one can conclude that social intervention, in principle, means ‘being at the service of’. Social intervention may be seen as providing

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support for what people can normally do themselves. One encounters this point of view in the literature on social casework, where the independence of the dependent seeker of help is emphasized (Friedlander 1985: 2–3). Article 5 of the ‘Code for the Social Worker’ states, ‘The relationship of the social worker to the client is based on respect for the person concerned and recognition of his own responsibility for his course of action’ (Code 1990: 11). In the explanatory text, we read: ‘In his professional activity, the social worker is focussed on the client being able to take responsible and independent action in his own situation.’ (idem). Methodological principles in social intervention also reflect this element of being ‘at the service of’. Social intervention is consequently seen as a temporary activity. In his research on the Helmond development project, Leene refers to R. Warren’s ‘The Community in America’, in discussing ‘community action as episode’ (Warren 1965). According to Warren, community action must be distinguished from the more normal, long-lasting and continuous social processes of socialization, competition and cooperation. ‘By contrast, community actions, of the type we are considering, are episodes (italics added). They have their beginnings and their endings. They are initiated to accomplish the purpose, which in the process may be modified: then with the resolution of their effort the action subsides, and the episode is finished.’ (p. 308). Social development processes are seen here as episodes with a beginning and an end. They are hors d’oeuvres, activities above and beyond the normal social processes within the territorial society. It is precisely this study of such episodes of increased activity that Warren considers important in order to acquire insight into the structure and the dynamic of a territorial society on the one hand, and on the other, into the role of the professional worker who acts as guide for such periods of action. What is interesting is the relationship that is implicitly established between the episodic community activity and professional guidance. There are not a few professionals in the development sector who are of the opinion that they are employed for a full-speed-ahead, continuous professional task. Warren refutes this, saying that development work and the like cannot be complete and continuous, but only conducted on episodic terms (Leene 1975: 22). Where the question of dependency is concerned in helping relationships, the literature repeatedly stresses the independence of those seeking help. Helpers must believe in the possibilities of the clients themselves. It is about ‘help to self-help’. Hancock, in his attack on development aid offered by governments, indicates that this objective of helping is on occasion trampled

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on. According to Hancock, the ‘aid business’ is arrogant and paternalistic. All calls for aid seem to serve to convince the Western taxpayer that the people of the Third World are totally incapable of helping themselves. ‘Disaster appeals of this sort pander to – and reinforce – the widespread belief that the impoverished peoples of the Third World are fundamentally helpless. Victims of nameless crises, disasters and catastrophes, they can do nothing unless we, the rich and powerful, intervene to save them from themselves’ (Hancock 1991: 19). Overcoming Absolute Contrasts If individuals, groups or collectives really want to fight it out with each other, they will not seek escape in the form of social intervention, but will grasp means of gaining power. When they do decide to call intervention, people likewise indicate that they reject absolute contrasts. In his analysis of ‘the third’, Simmel makes several remarks in this context. ‘The appearance of the third party indicates transition, conciliation, and abandonment of absolute contrast (although, on occasion, it introduces contrast)’ (Simmel 1950: 145). ‘Within the realm of sociological techniques there is nothing that serves the reconciliation of conflicting parties so effectively as does objectivity....’ (ibid.: 148). ‘After all that has been said, it is clear that from an over-all viewpoint, the existence of the impartial element serves the perpetuation of the group. As the representative of the intellect, he confronts the two conflicting parties, which for the moment are guided more by will and feeling.’ (ibid.: 152) History confirms this image of reconciliation and bridging contrasts. Although, certainly in the past, social work was aimed at combating poverty and at the consequences of social inequality, the actual changes had in the first instance to be fought for by the involved parties themselves (in the case of the workers’ movement). In confrontations, and therefore in the direct relationships, power was used, followed by an exchange of interests at the deliberating table. It is not for nothing that for long periods the labour movement rejected charity and social work. The realm of social intervention is not the same as the realm of power. 4.3 Doing Right and Doing Good De Savornin Lohman (1990) determined that in helping relationships, the political determination holds too much sway, and that this is at the expense

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of an ethic of doing good. She discusses the relationship between civil rights and helping. In Western, industrialized nations, care and solidarity constitute part of a structure of regulated (civil) rights and social services. There is a specified minimum of financial security, health care and social security available for everyone. This ethic of doing right is different from the ethic of doing good. In helping, which for De Savornin Lohman concerns the ethic of doing good, the principle of individualization holds true. The ethics of doing right concerns uniformity and being judged equal – the same for everyone. Based on the comparison of doing right and doing good referred to above, De Savornin Lohman appeals for a two-sided ethic in which the ethic of doing right can be balanced with the ethic of doing good. Through the many legally determined arrangements and services in the area of helping that are based on them, the ethic of doing right has taken dominance. Helping, according to De Savornin Lohman, frequently concerns exceptional cases. These require an ethic of doing good and a provision of space to move within the arrangement or regulation. De Savornin Lohman calls on helpers to be guided more by altruistic orientation and on the help seekers to create space in the tangled web of rules and procedures. There is a limitless amount of literature that incontestably concludes that the aid organization expresses itself in the exercise of power. This literature includes Lipsky’s ‘Street-Level Bureaucracy’ (1980) and Handler’s ‘The Conditions of Discretion’ (1986). Power interactions and helping interactions differ in several respects. Bielefeld’s international interdisciplinary research developed the following basic model for human actions and coordination (Hegner 1986; Kaufmann 1987: 17–18). In order to explain the coordination of actions, there is a multitude of approaches in the social sciences whose systematization always leads to three or four similar fundamental types of explanations, which can be briefly described as follows: Table 4.1

Coordination of human actions

Mode of coordination

Type of transaction

Reasons for compliance

Hierarchy Market Norms and values Solidarity

power relation exchange conformity and approval personal relationship

fear interest commitment sympathy, trust

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With these four sets of concepts, different types of motivations of human behaviour as well as typical social prerequisites are described. These concepts explain the emergence of chains of action in an ideal way. However, what we usually find in reality is a mixture of elements which can only be recognized as such through a sharp distinction of the ideal type. Kaufmann notes that the third and fourth types are often combined. Using this basic model, one can include helping relationships under the third and fourth type, differentiated from the first – the power relationship – and the second – the exchange relationship. The similarities between helping relationships and power relationships make apparent the dangers that are inherent in every helping relationship. Under the guise of offering help, the psychotherapist can assault his clients, the juvenile magistrate his young hooligans, the swimming teacher his pupils and the gynaecologist his patients. Unnoticed, unconsciously or consciously, a helping relationship can revert into a power relationship. This may make helping an intriguing social phenomenon, but it also makes it a difficult form of human interaction. Before one realizes it, there can be other concerns at stake in the relationship than the envisioned objective, which is offering help. 4.4 Helping and Power Van den Berg’s research focuses on the relationship between helping and power. In his view, the most exciting issue about the helping relationship is that it is identical to the power relationship, at least in terms of asymmetry. With regard to the objective that the relationship strives to achieve, however, it is diametrically opposed to the power relationship. Van den Berg uses this comparison as a foundation for his theory of helping (Van den Berg 1963): An image in a mirror differs from the object it reflects, but not all of the elements are reversed. What is on top stays on top, and what is below remains below; only that which is left becomes right, and what is right becomes left.

This is precisely the way in which the theory of power differs from the theory of helping. Both the possessor of power and the provider of help are at an advantage, as they have access to resources that are less accessible to others. These resources of influence can transform a relationship into a power relationship – or into a helping relationship. Both power and helping presume inequality. Neither power nor helping is possible within a relationship in which ego and alter occupy the same position. This

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presumed inequality figures more clearly into the sociology of power than it does into the theory of social work. Within the power relationship, however, the nature of the positional inequality between ego (in the terms of this book: the helper, the third element: TS/GL) and alter (the individual, group or collectivity to be helped, TS/GL) is not the same as the nature of the inequality that exists in the helping relationship. On the contrary, it is antithetical. This is evident in the manner in which we define the concepts of power and helping. It is not our intent to provide a critical discussion of the many definitions that have been proposed for the phenomenon of power over the years. Van Doorn’s definition appears to be the most useful for our purposes: Power is the possibility of a person or group, according to its own purposes, to limit the behavioural alternatives of other persons or groups. That this definition leaves a number of openings for sociological theory formation is no accident; it carefully avoids the various non-sociological aspects of the phenomenon of power. It should now be possible to apply a simple ‘transformation procedure’ in order to develop a definition for the phenomenon of helping that closely resembles the descriptions that are found in the literature of psychology and social work. Social work descriptions, however, are obviously not limited to the social aspects of helping. Our definition, as worded below, does allow this limitation: Helping is the possibility of extending the behavioural alternatives of other persons or groups, according to the purposes of that other person or group. The reflective relationship between power and helping can be seen as follows: • • • • •

In power relationships, the interests of ego predominate, and not those of alter. In helping relationships, the interests of alter predominate, and not those of ego. In power relationships, alter’s behavioural alternatives are limited. In helping relationships, alter’s behavioural alternatives are expanded. Both relationships involve the possibility of influencing the behavioural alternatives of alter.

We carry the transformation process as far as possible. The only elements that are not reversed are those that are presented in the fifth comment. Carrying out the transformation without including this last correspondence between

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the two treatments would result in both cases involving power relationships. The first case would involve a power relationship of ego over alter and the second a power relationship of alter over ego! This illustrates the utility of describing the two theories as mirror images, and not as opposites. As we remarked the theory of power differs from the theory of helping in the same way that an image in a mirror differs from the object that it reflects; not all of the elements are reversed. What is on top stays on top, and what is below remains below; only what is left becomes right, and what is right becomes left.’ To conclude this section, we observe the following about the definitions that we have provided. In normal usage, we understand power as referring to power over either things or self. Similarly, the notion of helping can involve the provision of material assistance (e.g., housing, which can be of help), as well as ‘self-help’. This sociological study excludes these aspects of the phenomena of power and helping. Our definitions assume interactions between at least two people. Ego and alter are, so to speak, the building blocks that are needed to arrive at a sociological definition of the phenomena that we wish to examine. We make four theoretical distinctions. Ego can: • • • •

Limit alter’s behavioural alternatives in accordance with ego’s interests; Expand alter’s behavioural alternatives in accordance with ego’s interests; Limit alter’s behavioural alternatives in accordance with alter’s interests; Expand alter’s behavioural alternatives in accordance with alter’s interests.

The first and the fourth options are the most interesting for our analysis. We consider the fact that these options are the most distant from each other (i.e., they differ on the greatest number of points) advantageous for purposes of theory formation. Our discussion of the second and third options must therefore be brief. Consider the employer-employee relation. Employers who control the means of producing the products that they place on the market can behave in one of two ways with regard to their employees. They can limit the employees’ behavioural alternatives in all phases of the work (regardless of importance) in accordance with their own interests (i.e., generating products that meet the demands of the market). On the other hand, they

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can consciously give their employees the opportunity to make mistakes, with the goal of helping them learn through trial and error. In this case, the employer assumes that the employee’s experimentation and experiences enhance the learning process more effectively than would the process of following instructions without understanding the rationale behind them. While expanding the employee’s behavioural options in accordance with the employer’s interests would probably have short-term consequences for the quality of the product, the employer could consider this an appropriate sacrifice in light of the benefits that are to be gained from cultivating ‘mature’ employee-craftsmen. Can this last treatment be seen as a form of helping? We can answer this question only to the extent that it involves expanding the behavioural alternatives of employees in accordance with their own interests. Should this not be the case – should the example merely involve broadening behavioural alternatives in accordance with the interests of the employer – this process of cultivation must be called by another name. We prefer to refer to the limitation of behavioural alternatives in accordance with alter’s interests as a pedagogical relationship rather than one of helping. This preference stems from the fact that this relationship can be legally realized in only a few specific situations. The pedagogical relationship does not ‘fit’ in all contexts. To call it a helping relationship makes this point less clear. It is easy to include too many potential actions under the (ethically attractive) guise of helping. Closer examination of our definition of helping raises the question of whether expanding alter’s behavioural alternatives in accordance with alter’s interests can be referred to as helping in all cases, regardless of the nature of alter’s interests. This is a problematic assumption. In the field of social work, it is often stipulated that alter’s interests cannot be harmful to either self or surroundings; alter’s interests must be socially acceptable. They must be consistent with the broader social environment within which the helping relationship is situated. Never for a moment can we consider the helping relationship apart from this broader framework. Sociologically speaking, a person who provides another with the means to commit suicide is helping. According to social work standards, however, the person is not helping, as alter’s interests are socially unacceptable. In cultures that accept murder under certain circumstances (and sometimes even consider it an ethical obligation), missionaries and civil servants face a dilemma; they must choose either to help or to exercise power. Those who resort to the latter option can consider their actions in light of their

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net results, thereby tilting the balance toward the ‘favourable’ side that is known as ‘helping’. From the sociological perspective, however, we must conclude that a conflict will arise in this case, as each of the two parties is oriented towards his or her own values. Those who choose to help take alter’s interests for granted, to the extent that they are consistent with the views of the broader social environment. They will therefore expand the range of available behavioural alternatives according to these interests, in deference to alter’s right to self-determination. To summarize: how do intervening parties use their professional values in the helping relationship? According to Van den Berg’s definition, social intervention means increasing the behaviour alternatives of the other according to the objectives of that other. For de Savornin Lohman, the objective must be determined by the ethic of doing good. Power and helping are widely removed from each other but they are also close to one another. Helping relationships can be easily transformed into power relationships. Chapter 5 deals more extensively with this subject. References Berg, H. van den (1963), Sociologie van de Hulpverlening (Meppel: Boom). Friedlander, W.A. (ed.) (1958), Concepts and Methods of Social Work (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall). Hancock, G. (1991), Lords of Poverty (London: Mandarin). Handler, J. (1986), The Conditions of Discretion: Autonomy, Community, Bureaucracy (New York: Russell Sage Foundation). Hegner, F. (1986), ‘Solidarity and Hierarchy: Institutional Arrangements for the Coordination of Actions’, in Kaufmann, F.X., Majone, G. and Ostrom, V. (eds), Guidance, Control and Evaluation in the Public Sector (Berlijn/New York: The Bielefeld Interdisciplinary Project, De Gruyter), 407–429. Kaufmann F.X. (1987), ‘Prevention and Intervention in the Analytical Perspective of Guidance’, in Hurrelman, Kl., Kaufmann, F.X. and Lösel, F., Social Intervention: Potential and Constraints (Berlijn/New York: De Gruyter), 3–20. Lipsky, M. (1980), Streetlevel Bureaucracy: Dilemmas of the Individual in Public Services (New York: Russell Sage Foundation).

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Savornin Lohman, J. de (1990), Doe wel en zie om (Amsterdam/Lisse: Swets en Zeitlinger). Simmel, G. in Wolff, K.H. (1950), The Sociology of Georg Simmel (New York: The Free Press). Stryker, S.C. (1984), Guide to Successful Consulting (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall). Warren, R. (1965), The Community in America (Chicago: Rand MC. Nally).

Chapter 5

Attitude: How to Handle Asymmetry1 Why is social intervention so difficult and what makes the helping relationship so sensitive to abuse? These problems are directly related to the nature of the helping relationship. The core of this relationship is the inequality, the asymmetry, between the helper and the person being helped, and the dependence of the latter. Asymmetry is the driving force behind every social intervention and at the same time its weakest point. Handling asymmetry in an appropriate manner constitutes a major part of the work of the intervening third party. Drawing up contracts is one means of reducing dependence-related problems. However, much depends on the professional attitude of the third element. This asymmetry makes heavy demands on the professional attitude of the intervening party, that is the helper. Is he capable of dealing with dependence in an acceptable way? Is he well-versed in his profession? This chapter contains a comprehensive sketch of all the possible dangers and pitfalls which beset asymmetric intervention relations. Because social intervention and helping are such difficult forms of interaction, there are countless situations in which its opposite – abuse, or the exercise of power – takes place. Collins uses the method of analysing the opposite proposition to the one he wishes to investigate. ‘To understand the conditions which produce a phenomenon, it is useful to compare the conditions that determine its opposite.... If we wish to understand the conditions for social order, we should compare it to the conditions where order is destroyed’ (Collins 1990: 63). A comparable approach is employed here. This approach to research into the area of social intervention is not new. Van den Berg developed a sociology of social intervention by using the sociology of its opposite – power (Van den Berg 1963).

1 This chapter has already partly been published in: Social Work and Society 2(1), pp. 39–53.

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The helping relationship has been described and analysed many times. (see also: Weiss 1973; Spielberg 1980; Strean 1986; Bornstein 1994; Hepworth 1993; Witz 1992). In this chapter, we examine a familiar theme, namely the abuse that is made of this relationship. Critical opinions about social intervention and helping relationships usually begin by analysing the unequal motives of those giving assistance. The providers of help receive more attention from scholars than do those seeking help (Gergen and Gergen 1986: 193–222). In order to break this pattern, we first concentrate on the helping relationship by taking another look at the party requesting the help. As a final comment, the following text cites several examples of improper use of the helping relationship by both the help seekers and the help providers. This by no means implies that the authors intend to downplay or trifle with human suffering. It is almost indecent to subject the help offered in such emergency situations to a critical analysis. Nonetheless, one sets about doing so here with the intention and hope of providing more insight in order to increase the chances of that social intervention being effective. 5.1 The Client under Suspicion Client Power There are many strategies for manipulating conversations, group gatherings, parties or family life. An effective means of doing this is by trying to play the role of the vivacious ‘centre of attention’. But a role that is at least as effective is that of radiating the ‘all-time low’. The attention one gets for one’s trouble will be no less. Problem behaviour – as we know from system theorists and directive therapists – is extremely effective behaviour, and is termed functional behaviour (Minuchin 1974). Asking for help in these cases can be seen as a power strategy to get something – attention, status, recognition or material gains – that cannot be acquired by other means. There are cases when a person with a problem does not elicit sympathy but indeed, can still be exceptionally clever and adept in getting his environment to do his bidding. A drug addict is in a position to tyrannize the family he is part of so that the problem case in the family dominates all the relationships within that family. Everyone is concerned and worried, it costs family members significant amounts of money, meal schedules are adjusted and so on. Paradoxically enough, the addict is consequently the most powerful individual in the family.

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Women who have been deprived of their function in society, or who have never been allowed that function, can take revenge on their socially successful partners with the socio-medical behaviour of the invalid, and thereby manipulate or ‘sicken’ their lives to an important degree (Paykel 1991). The person seeking help does not need to be aware of this power. Even more poignantly, almost no one would reasonably choose the role of the client from a power strategy standpoint. It is more often an acquired, learned behaviour, which has evolved out of interaction with the environment, and one which appears to be functional for the person in question. Advantages of the Sick Role Parsons drew attention to the advantages of the ‘sick role’. He views being sick as abnormal behaviour. The advantage of the role of the invalid lies in the fact that he or she is relieved of obligations to society, but also that such abnormal behaviour is tolerated by the environment. ‘Illness is predominantly a withdrawal into a dependent relationship, asking to be “taken care of”. It uses disability as the basis of legitimizing this claim, ... provides ... “leverage” for social control....’ (Parsons 1951: 285). Norms can be transgressed without sanctions being imposed. Who has not made use of this strategy when they cannot pass an exam or keep an appointment? In his research on participation in the labour movement, Klandermans came to discover that the numbers of workers absent due to illness was disconcertingly high at the moment when people really had to participate (Klandermans 1981). A modern variation of conceptualizing the advantage of being sick is the idea of ‘sickness benefits’. Being a problem case wins immaterial (attention, recognition) as well as material (money, security) gain. Vroon describes a 1965 German study that produced spectacular results. Because patients received the extra attention while they were sick that they had missed in their normal, daily lives, these patients remained sick. ‘Someone who has succumbed to an ailment is distracted by it from other problems and is moreover the recipient of all forms of attention from his environment’ (Vroon 1988: 168). The Career Client This explains why many people seeking help opt for a brilliant career as client. Everyone is concerned with or about him or her, but they are unable to discover what is wrong. One can meet such career-makers in doctors’ offices. In the world of psychotherapy, the term ‘shoppers’ is used for people who go

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through one form of therapy after another. It is only when the demonstrated behaviour is effective, which is to say that it produces a lot of attention and recognition, that a client will be capable of really outstanding achievement. In the novel The Magic Mountain (Der Zauberberg), Thomas Mann describes the competition among patients in a sanatorium about who is worst off. People compete for the distinction of being the ‘worst case’. Even newcomer Hans Castorp, who comes into the exclusive circle of sick people as a ‘light patient’, abandons his initial scepticism towards the game in order to put considerable effort into the struggle (Mann 1924). The ‘Injustice Collector’ In ‘Justice and Injustice’ Bergler and Meerloo devote a chapter to the ‘injustice collector’, an individual who looks for problems because he – unknowingly – enjoys them (1963: 20–25). The psychiatrist authors give a psychoanalytical explanation for the behaviour of people who are ‘always the fall guy’. An injustice collector has become a master of the neurotic defence of psychic masochism, putting him in the position of being able to turn a loss into a victory. Look (victory) at what has happened to me (loss)! ‘A thumbnail definition of the psychic masochist would term him a person who habitually transforms conscious displeasure into unconscious pleasure, and can thus accept the endless punishments...’ (Bergler and Meerloo, 1963: 20). Everyone is confronted with injustices which cannot be avoided. According to Bergler and Meerloo, relatively normal people look to see whether or not they can do something about it. If that is not the case, people will, both consciously and unconsciously, either work their way through or reject the situation. ‘In neurosis, both avoidable and unavoidable injustices are unconsciously sought out and welcomed. On the surface, the neurotic appears to reject injustice as heartily as the normal individual does, but his rejection is not designed to correct or eliminate the sorry situation: his display of counter-aggression is a careful alibi meant to show the inner conscience that he tried, but unhappily could not succeed’ (Bergler and Meerloo 1963: 34–35). Bergler and Meerloo concentrate their analysis on the individual who is and always will be – unconsciously – a problem case. Proof of Illness Brinkgreve and Van Stolk write about ‘proof of illness’ (Brinkgreve and Van Stolk 1987). Their research focused on somatic patients. These are

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‘people with physical complaints for which no physical cause can be found’ (Brinkgreve and Van Stolk 1987: 597). They often have a long medical history behind them, and finally end up at the psychiatrist’s door, as patients who have exhausted the other disciplines. The authors come to discover that somatic complaints are not directly traceable to life events which can be localized in the histories of patients (changing jobs, for example), but sooner to ‘changes in their social network as a result of the persisting complaints’ (ibid.: 598). Somatic patients invest a great deal in their illness, and once that has happened, there is no way back. Brinkgreve and Van Stolk speak of ‘the dilemma of the wrong investment’: ‘The longer people wait to accept their loss the greater that loss becomes, but it is precisely that which prevents the investor from then truly accepting his losses’ (ibid: 631). Brinkgreve and Van Stolk do make note of the fact that the image of the mistaken investment is too strongly based on conscious calculation and does too little justice to unconscious processes that also lend shape to what somatic patients do or do not do (ibid: 631). Proof of illness, according to them, is the involvement of the social process around its recognition. ‘Our ill without illness have invested a great deal to be accepted as being sick, and in many cases they would experience an almost insufferable loss of face, also in terms of accepting themselves, if their complaints were, as it were, to vanish into thin air. But it would not only cost the patient his credibility, but the credibility of those who have accepted the legitimacy of the complaints, and those who had acted accordingly will have difficulty in accepting that their concern and care had all been “for naught’ (ibid: 627). Brinkgreve and Van Stolk conclude from this that ‘Providing proof of illness seems to us to be the most important hidden function of the contact between somatic patients and the psychiatrists treating them’ (ibid: 629). Cheating the Welfare State If in fact people have proof of illness, they can take advantage of special arrangements and facilities to take care of their needs. Such arrangements frequently fall under government management. Needs can be satisfied in different ways. In industrialized countries, people can obtain goods and services through the general market or the authorities. The allocation of goods via the market means that people with a given income can purchase social goods such as housing, education and health care. The second

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possibility is via government regulation. People then obtain such goods and services by means of rent subsidies, scholarships, public health insurance, tax breaks, care services and so on. Mishra sees the authorities or political structure as an alternative to the market. Both the market and government are aimed at satisfying those needs (Mishra 1981). Shlonsky also views government policy as an allocation mechanism, defining government ‘welfare’ as ‘a mode of allocation of resources – goods, services, rights, benefits, etc. – which does not rest, theoretically at least, on the recipient’s duty to reciprocate’ (Shlonsky 1971: 415). Just as individuals attempt to glean profit from the market, it is lucrative for individuals to amass as many material and immaterial benefits as possible via government regulations. With proof of illness in one’s pocket, clients can try to profit as much as possible from these ‘secondary allocations’ in the community. Client Passiveness We now move from the client who undertakes initiative to the type who follows an opposite strategy. It also happens that help seekers are unwilling to make decisions of their own. Here, looking for help is the same as refusing responsibility. Directive therapists in family therapy are acutely aware of this mechanism and turn it around, so that the therapy is aimed at allowing the client to take on responsibility. It often happens that a problematic family or clients put pressure on the helper to solve the problem. Describing the resulting situation, ‘If the therapist allows himself to become a “healer” or a “fixer”, the family falls into dysfunction and waits until the therapist has completed the task’ (Verhey 1979: 37). Asking for help makes people unsure and fearful because they do not know what is going to come out of it. This fear is the driving force behind clients’ efforts to put the responsibility in the hands of the therapist. Clients cling to the therapist in the same way tourists in a strange country slouch along behind their tour guide. Group workers in Germany have an appealing term for this phenomenon: ‘Anklammerungstendenz’ (the cling tendency) (Brocher 1976). Inspiring Fear People and groups in need can openly demonstrate their power by making use of a power strategy. Threatening another, who fails to respond, can be an important condition or prerequisite for getting help. In the 1960s

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in Western Europe and the United States, civil unrest in major cities was initially responded to by sending in the police. When this appeared to have the opposite effect to that intended, democratic consensus projects and community workers were made available to population groups concerned (Waddington 1979). The method used by Alinsky was illustrative of the power strategy of ‘community organizing’ in the United States. The tactic of mobilizing the public was intended to develop power from a weak position. No means were eschewed. Landlords, for example, who refused to maintain their property, were attacked in their personal lives. Folders denouncing their negligence were printed and distributed in the neighbourhoods where the landlords lived and handed out at the close of services at the churches they attended (Alinsky 1972). 5.2 The Helper as Suspect What motivates the helper? Why do individuals, groups or organizations apply themselves to helping other people, groups or countries? This question has been – and still is – frequently asked in the literature on helping. There are countless possible answers. In this section we will look at the authors who have raised questions about the motives of helpers, or the points that have led people to be critical of helpers. The literature is widely diverse, both in terms of theoretical approach and the respective level of analysis. In order to view it in structured form, we have arranged this material into three categories. The first group of authors ascribes the urge to help to fear and helplessness on the part of the helpers. The second group explains helping as self-interest on the part of the helpers. The third group includes those authors who attribute helping to the need for social control, which in their opinion explains a great deal of charitable activity. Fear and Helplessness as Motive ‘In treating them, we cure ourselves’ In an article on professional identity in social work, Polansky uses the above quote from Erikson in the following context. ‘Part of what holds us to the task, then, is the experience of solving and resolving our own problems over and over again in the lives of our clients’ (Polansky 1959: 304). What he is referring to here is the conscious or unconscious motivation of professional help workers in providing help or care. It is easier to allow another to express a problem that you yourself also face than to dig into your own soul. The January

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1989 issue of The Atlantic Monthly published an article by Thomas Maeder on ‘Wounded Healers’ (1989: 37–47), in which he pointed a finger at helpers. ‘Altruistic people, who work hard to help others, should not be suspected ipso facto of harbouring ulterior selfish motives. Nonetheless, the “helping professions”, such as nursing, charitable work, the ministry, and psychotherapy, attract people for curious and often psychologically suspect reasons.... Such people may be lured, knowingly or unknowingly, by the position of authority, by the dependence of others, by the image of benevolence, by the promise of adulation, or by a hope of vicariously helping themselves through helping others’ (p. 37). Maeder states that many psychotherapists have themselves been emotionally damaged in their own upbringing, and have therefore become narcissistic, whereby they have learned to have considerable talent for being able to understand others. ‘Thus the peculiar miseries of the narcissist’s childhood encouraged him to develop a sensitivity to other’s needs... The very same qualities, however, ultimately hinder the therapist’s ability to help patients or to raise children who are free of emotional problems, because the empathy and altruism are basically false’ (p. 45). The empathy or altruism expressed evolves from a unilateral concern on the part of helpers for their own ego. Narcissism is an over-accentuation of the ego, but it arises from a weakness of the ego (Baars 1987: 124–125). The ‘hilflosen helfer’ Schmidbauer likewise seeks to explain the help provided by professional helpers through pathological motives. He refers to the ‘helper syndrome’, and his analysis is a sobering one and indeed, cynical. Schmidbauer sees helping as a defence against fears and inner emptiness, using psychoanalysis as his theoretical starting point. According to Schmidbauer, problems can arise in early childhood (the oral phase) that can later be found in the so-called ‘helper syndrome’, where one altruistically offers oneself for others in order to repress one’s own need for help. The helper syndrome is expressed in the fact that weakness and helplessness, admitting to emotional problems is only welcomed and supported in others, whereas one’s own self-image must remain unsullied. The inner condition of someone with the helper syndrome can therefore be described as that of a neglected baby behind a beautiful, solid façade: like a small child, I hunger and thirst for affection and security, but I am not able to admit it. Schmidbauer gives the following definition of the helper syndrome: ‘An incapacity to express one’s own feelings and needs that has become a personality structure, coupled with an apparently omnipotent, unassailable façade in the area of social care’

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(1977: 12). The medical profession is referred to as a helping profession with helper syndrome. According to Schmidbauer, research has shown doctors to be relatively frequently addicted to drugs and alcohol, which can be ascribed to the oral needs of these helpers. Badcock is another writer who describes altruism from a psychoanalytical perspective (Badcock 1986). In Chapter II, ‘Kin Altruism, Identification and Masochism’ of The Problem of Altruism he quotes Anna Freud’s opinion of people offering themselves: ‘Humane people are good out of the badness of their hearts.’ Altruistic sacrifice, according to Anna Freud, is less altruistic than people might expect. Altruism can arise from egotistical motives. The most important psychological mechanism that can play a role here is identification. One takes himself as the standard for identification (one projects one’s own emotional needs onto another) and in the case of altruistic behaviour, does everything possible in order to satisfy the other person. Self Interest as Motive The ‘helper therapy principle’ Riessman has drawn attention to the fact that by helping others, helpers come to feel stronger and more powerful. He called this the ‘helper therapy principle’ (1965), which has become a universally accepted concept in the professional (health) care professions, but it is also used in studying informal help. Gottlieb reports that informal support groups develop specific mechanisms. ‘These principles revolve around the normalizing effect produced by the sense of universality gained through meeting others in the same boat; the heightened esteem and confidence gained from assuming the role of helper, a phenomenon that Riessman (1965) has labelled the “helper therapy principle”.’ (Gottlieb 1985: 64). It is common knowledge in social psychology that helping can be a good remedy for a bad mood. ‘Although a positive mood can be a potent source of helping behaviour, some researchers believe that under special conditions a negative mood can have the same effect. For example, it is sometimes possible to change a sad mood by doing something for someone else (Kidd and Marshall 1983). Attention then becomes focused on others and their pleasure, not on one’s personal doldrums. This means of coping seems especially useful when people think they are responsible for their own bad mood’ (Rogers et al. 1982) (see Gergen and Gergen 1986: 199, 201).

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Altruism as a career Feeling better, healing oneself as a result of helping others does not necessarily have to concern the intra-psychic or interpersonal domain. There is also glory to be had for helpers at the broader society level. Helping can even be a very appropriate way of gaining financial advantage. Helpers with high social status (psychiatrists, psychoanalysts) are frequently holders of an impressive bank account. One can be none the worse off for devoting your professional life to the service of others. Lubove has devoted a book to the subject, with the telling title ‘The Professional Altruist: The Emergence of Social Work as a Career’ (1972). Social work and women’s emancipation Careers and professional helping are historically closely allied. In the Netherlands, but also in other countries, the emergence of professional social work was directly related to the emancipation movement of women from the wealthy bourgeoisie. In around 1900, this group attempted to create paid jobs outside the home with a certain social status. It is an intriguing phenomenon that people who want to emancipate themselves seek mastery over a group of people who are worse off than themselves. The ‘helper therapy principle’ would seem to apply here as well. Lords of Poverty One frontal attack launched at those who better themselves by way of the troubles and destitution of others is at the hand of Hancock in Lords of Poverty, pointing out ‘the freewheeling lifestyles, power, prestige and corruption of the multibillion dollar aid business’, in government-sponsored international development aid and its institutions (Hancock 1991). Hancock claims that official development aid produces no results – is even damaging – because it is based on the wrong principles. The international ‘aid business’ wastes no breath on what those seeking aid know or need. It is paternalistic, condescending help that, whenever the World Bank and the IMF are involved, comes down to obliging those countries requesting aid to apply western economic models (structural adjustments) (ibid: 56). It would seem, then, that official development assistance is neither necessary nor sufficient for ‘development’: the poor thrive without it in some countries; in others, where it is plentifully available, they suffer the most abject miseries. Such suffering, furthermore, as I have argued throughout this book, often occurs not in spite of aid but because of it. To continue with the charade seems to me to be absurd. Garnered and justified in the name of the destitute and

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the vulnerable, aid’s main function in the past half century has been to create and then entrench a powerful new class of rich and privileged people. In that notorious club of parasites and hangers-on made up of the United Nations, the World Bank and the bilateral agencies, it is aid – and nothing else – that has provided hundreds of thousands of ‘jobs for the boys’ and that has permitted record-breaking standards to be set in self-serving behaviour, arrogance, paternalism, moral cowardice and mendacity (ibid: 192–193).

The ‘official aid industry’ is realized outside the control of the taxpayer. External control, and internal control as well, is virtually non-existent, according to Hancock, because it is concerned with disaster relief, food relief, medical help, in short: with helping. It is not appropriate in the presence of all that misery to question or criticize the helpers who, in professional and paid positions, go to foreign countries in order to assuage the needs of others. ‘The charitable impulse at the root of much aid-giving is at its most potent during disasters and emergencies. It is, however, a double-edged sword. On the one hand it raises lots of money. On the other it stifles questions about the uses to which this money is put – and makes those who ask such questions look rather churlish. Criticizing humanitarianism and generosity is like criticizing the institution of motherhood; it is just not “the done thing”.’ (ibid: 5). At the beginning of his book, Hancock quotes Ross Coggins’s poem, ‘The Development Set’. These are the first two stanzas: Excuse me, friends, I must catch my jet – I’m off to join the Development Set; My bags are packed, and I’ve had all my shots, I have travellers’ cheques and pills for the trots. The Development Set is bright and noble, Our thoughts are deep and our vision global; Although we move with the better classes, Our thoughts are always with the masses.

Povertocracy In an article on poverty, Engbersen noticed that poverty generates work, not only for researchers, but also for the professionals participating in those poverty-programs. ‘In the Netherlands, we see a significant growth in the number of employment and education projects, but the effects of this new poverty industry in improving the lot of welfare recipients and long-term unemployed are thus far very limited’ (Engbersen 1991: 18).

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Cultural and social capital Returning to what motivates some of the bourgeoisie to become involved with those less well off, publications on stratification research explain that people distinguish themselves from others through the social position they fill in comparison to those others. This comparison in social rank (stratification) takes place on the basis of the three criteria of 1) income/profession, 2) culture, and 3) social contacts. In the literature on stratification, people with a lot of money are called ‘capitalists’, people with a lot of culture are called ‘culture capitalists’, and those with a lot of contacts ‘social capitalists’ (Bourdieu 1986; Ganzeboom et al. 1987). People are therefore not concerned with money alone. Status can be acquired in many ways. There are not only possibilities available in business or in government for people with initiative, but employment in the ‘service of others’, ‘the general good’, or ‘humanity’ also offers great potential in this context. Corporate foundations and corporate philanthropy The capitalistic character of helping is most strongly apparent in the case of companies which, whether forced to do so by tax laws (the Ford Foundation, for example), or whether out of their own desire to reap tax benefits, establish a foundation for the benefit of social or cultural goals. The Ford Foundation was set up at the point when the private shareholdings of the Ford family were about to be heavily taxed. In Sutton’s words: By the 1930s, however, changes in the social climate brought prudential steps. The first move was to convert the existing stock, which consisted of 172,645 shares, into two classes totalling 3,452,500 shares; 95 percent of these were class A, non-voting common stock, and 5 percent were class B, voting stock. In 1935, Franklin Roosevelt asked Congress for an inheritance tax or a steeply progressive estate tax. The Ford Motor Company, as the most prominent example of a large family-owned industry, became a centre of interest in this legislation, which ultimately became the Revenue Act of 1935. It raised the tax on estates above $50 million to 70 percent but retained provision for tax exemption of bequests to charitable, religious and educational organizations. The Ford family responded by establishing the Ford Foundation on January 15, 1936, and, in the next months, Henry and Edsel wrote wills in which they bequeathed all their class A stock to the Ford Foundation and the class B stock to family members. The Foundation thus became the potential owner of more than 90 percent of the Ford Motor Company, subject to the liability in the wills of Henry and Edsel that taxes on their voting stock were to be paid from the non-voting stock that went to the Foundation (Sutton 1987: 42).

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Again, Piliavin and Charng leave little intact of the good intentions underlying social sponsoring by companies. Based on research in the literature, they ask if there is really any altruism lurking behind corporate philanthropy. ‘Is there any evidence for corporate “altruism”? The answer appears to be “no”... Our conclusion from the limited literature we have been able to discover on corporate responsibility is that “enlightened self-interest” rather than altruism is what drives socially responsible behaviour in this area. Normative pressures can increase social responsibility, largely because such pressures lead corporate officers to perceive that socially responsible behaviour is in the corporation’s own best interest. Although individual corporate officers may feel empathy or have “group-oriented feelings”, corporations obviously do not. The behaviour of those corporate officers, acting for the corporation, must be largely determined by the self-interest of the company. If altruism is seen as based on those feelings, then, corporate philanthropy is not and cannot be altruism (Piliavin and Charng 1990: 57).

Helping and ‘noblesse oblige’ In speaking of feudal society in his historical description of helping, Luhmann devotes some attention to the concept of noblesse oblige. Noblesse oblige is an integral part of feudal relationships, and it is not due to the conviction that one gains status through helping others: Hilfe ist nicht mehr, wie in elementaren Interaktionen oder auch in archaischen Gesellschaften, ein statuskonstituierendes Prinzip; sie drückt einen schichtenmässig gefestigten Status nur noch aus, ist Statussymbol, Standespflicht, in mehr häuslich-patrimonialen Verhältnissen auch fürsorgliche Verantwortung – in jedem Falle eine Ventilsitte der Schichtendifferenzierung. Überliefert sind eine Fülle von Berichten über ritterliche Freigebigkeit und aristokratische Fürsorge für die Armen und Siechen – von Berichten mit exemplarischem Charakter und erzieherischer Intention (Luhmann 1973: 29).2

2 ‘Help, or assistance, is no longer a principle constituting the status of the helper, as in elementary interactions of archaic societies; now, it only serves as an expression of an established status in a stratified society: it is a status symbol, a duty arising from the helper’s rank or, in more domestic, patrimonial relationships, also a duty of care – in any case a custom acting as a safety-valve for the differentiation in a stratified society. Many reports have been handed down to us of knightly generosity and aristocratic care for the poor and the ill – reports intended to set an example and teach a lesson’.

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Social Control as Motive Fear of the bourgeoisie Helpers are often driven by fear. Brunt (1987) studied the motives of the ‘social explorers’ from the English bourgeoisie, who, disguised as paupers, went into the London ghettos in order to describe the lives of the poor. Brunt was struck by the language these ‘social explorers’ used. They used such phrases as ‘wild men’, ‘barbarians’, ‘cesspits’. Brunt terms this the ‘rhetoric of fear’. In these marginal groups, people saw a threat to their own civilization. By helping, they attempted to lessen both the threat and their own fear. Forward panic Wartime conditions produce a phenomenon that Collins describes as ‘forward panic’. People recklessly attack the enemy in order to conquer the fear in themselves (Collins 1990). ‘This is similar to the panic retreat, which is the mark (and principal mechanism) of defeat, except that in this case the panic mood impels soldiers forward, into a frenzy of killing’ (Collins 1990: 73). The fear of the poor on the part of the bourgeoisie can exert a strong power of attraction towards those poor. The helicopter pilot blindly attacks his enemy, ‘Yet, he is also attracted by the danger, for he knows he can overcome his fear only by facing it. This blind rage then begins to focus on the men who are the source of the danger – and of his fear.... But this resolve, which is sometimes called courage, cannot be separated from the fear that has aroused it’ (Collins 1990: 74). Fear of contamination In writing about the history of Australia, Hughes also focuses some attention on the conditions of the London poor and the motives for deporting groups of criminals to the ‘fatal shore’ (Hughes 1986). ‘The final aim of the transportation system, then, was less to punish individual crimes than to uproot an enemy class from the British social fabric. … However, it failed. Transportation did not stop crime in England or even slow it down. The “criminal class” was not eliminated by transportation, and could not be, because transportation did not deal with the causes of the crime’ (Hughes 1986: 168). Burgers begins an article on the city in the 1990s with a look back at the relationship between the bourgeoisie and the urban context (Burgers 1990). According to him, the bourgeoisie specifically belongs in the city, the place where there is money to be earned. They turn the city into a commodity. These economic motives of exploitation and profitability exist alongside those of cultural objectives and social control. Burgers makes a connection between these motives and the rise of shopping passages in the

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first half of the nineteenth century. Along with their economic and cultural advantages, the passage offered the middle and upper classes protection and safety from the poor masses, who were the source of their fear of contamination. Due to the urbanization of the nineteenth century, control and management of the swelling masses became increasingly important. Burgers states that Hausmann, in reconstructing Paris, was guided by the three principles mentioned above: social control, profitability and the desire to shape culture (Burgers 1990: 80). The wealthy burghers only began to really do something about the (hygienic) condition of the proletariat when they themselves began to suffer from the illnesses of the poor. Public water supplies, sewage disposal, health care and education came about in this period. The flag was raised for the ‘advancement of the people’. In these cases, altruism and egoism seem practically synonymous (De Swaan 1988). Civilization work Kruithof introduced the concept of ‘civilization offensive’ after researching the interventions of the upper classes in the working classes (1980). He means it to refer to the fact that the bourgeoisie wanted to involve the entire population in the advantages of civilization and virtue. Along with improving elementary education, they sought to educate the population in general (Kruithof 1990: 16). In review The above gives examples of the ‘suspect’ helper. From this material comes a diverse range of motives, objectives and values. We have here also looked at different levels of analysis. Some authors limited themselves to the motives of individual helpers, while others focused on social structures and on the role of social groups involved in social work – the bourgeoisie, for example. It is difficult to draw conclusions from this material. What can be concluded, however, is that in many instances, there is more involved on the part of the helper than purely the wellbeing of those seeking help. It can do no harm to view helpers with a healthy dose of caution. 5.3 Asymmetry in Helping Relationships In the two sections above, the examples cited of both helpers and help seekers ‘going wrong’ has directly to do with the asymmetry of the helping relationship. In his analysis of the medical profession, Lulofs gives the following explanation for this.

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Nearly all authors in this area are of the opinion that the professions are separate from other vocations because they require a relatively high level of systematic theoretical knowledge. This brings with it a market imbalance, because the information at the disposal of the exchange partners is asymmetrically distributed. This has the result that in the first place, the exchange concerns the providing of information and only in the second place the support of interests, the treatment or the therapy. As a rule, it is the supplier who determines the needs of the recipient, whereas the latter is seldom in a position to assess the quality of the services provided. The most prominent characteristic, therefore, of the professional services market lies in the element of trust contained in the exchange relationship between provider and recipient (Lulofs 1983: 95).

The asymmetry of helping relationships appears in many cases to be a feeding ground for inappropriate motives and strategies. There are two ways that this asymmetry can be wrongly handled. Firstly, as we have seen, the asymmetry can be abused, and secondly, one can avoid or deny that asymmetry. Avoiding Asymmetry: Symmetric Strategies Alongside abuse of the asymmetry of the helping relationship, there is another wrong way of dealing with that asymmetry, and that is by denying it exists or eliminating it. The asymmetry in helping relationships is often experienced as a discomfort for both help seekers and help providers. In these cases, asymmetry, almost as a force in itself tends to lean towards symmetry. Both parties, the seekers and the helpers, consciously or otherwise, make an effort to bend the asymmetrical relationship into a symmetrical one. To illustrate, we will first discuss a few symmetrical strategies on the part of the help seekers. Symmetrical Strategies of Help Seekers What motivates help seekers to undertake efforts to eradicate the asymmetry? Gergen and Gergen explain that from the standpoint of those seeking help, receiving help is not pleasant. They mention three reasons why: •

• •

The recipient feels inferior. Help seekers have not been able to look after themselves and out of pride, people, groups, countries refuse help. They do not want to hold out their hand. Help often brings obligations. Help can be manipulative. For this reason, poor countries often

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protest against the conditions attached to development aid (Gergen and Gergen 1986: 215–219). Giving Gifts Hospital nursing staff are inundated with cakes and flowers. Older people give valuables away in exchange for help and attention. With these gifts, help seekers try to counteract the asymmetry by modifying the helping relationship towards an exchange relationship that is more symmetric in nature. Intimacy Another strategy is to become more personal with the helper. One appears to know the helper personally, or in other situations, to be observing the helper. In the break during a lecture, the teacher is generally surrounded by enthusiastic students expressing their loyalty, asking for additional explanations or wanting to discuss things further. Focussing attention on the more ‘personal’ brings the help seeker to a more equal position with the helper than that of someone who is dependent. A personal relationship is more symmetrical than the helping relationship. Proto-professionalizing Help seekers can also reduce the asymmetry by adapting themselves to the helper. Research by Brinkgreve, Onland and De Swaan into psychotherapy practices in Amsterdam resulted, amongst other things, in the concept of ‘proto-professionalizing’, characterizing the adaptive behaviour of the client to the therapist. Clients formulate their questions or problems already phrased in therapeutic jargon in order to be better understood by the therapist (Brinkgreve et al. 1979: 17). This way, the help seeker enhances his own position. The dependent party learns to redefine himself and his or her situation in therapeutic language. Symmetric Strategies of Helpers For their part, helpers can be inclined to become similar to their clients. In time, the behaviour of ‘outreach workers/streetcorner workers’ becomes indistinguishable from that of the people they are working with. They hang around interminably in pubs, dress identically, even their schedules

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are adjusted to those of the client groups. Local development workers and community centre workers in impoverished urban neighbourhoods often show the same patterns of imitation. They are hardly recognizable in the role of helper, and have also adopted an appropriately modified ‘radical philosophy’ for their job. Police arrest teams look no different than the ‘dangerous and volatile’ criminals they have to arrest. 5.4 The Magnetism of Power: Professional Attitude and Asymmetry Although the asymmetry of the helping relationship can lead to all sorts of abuse, as well as to strategies for symmetry, helping cannot exist without asymmetry. Social intervention is only possible with asymmetry and inequality: someone wants something that he does not have, and the other has it. It is precisely this difference between the third and the one being helped that makes change possible. Because it is asymmetric, the social intervention relationship greatly resembles another asymmetric relationship: the power relationship. Because of this circumstance, the help relationship can easily be transferred into a power relationship. Helping then becomes the exercise of power. Power and help lie far apart from one another, but also very close. Van den Berg has pointed out this similarity: ‘Both, power and help, presume inequality... Both, the one holding power and the one providing help, possess an advantage because they have admission to what are, for others, less accessible values’ (Van den Berg 1963: 19). Being able to deal with this inequality places strenuous demands on the integrity of the helper and the professional attitude. Social intervention is about maintaining the tension of an adequate, appropriate asymmetry in terms of the problem and not succumbing to the quicksand of power, or on the other hand escaping into symmetry. The ultimate purpose is indeed the eradication of the asymmetry, the help seekers become able to handle their own problems. The helping relationship was specifically created to achieve this objective. References Alinsky, S.D. (1972), Rules for Radicals: A Practical Primer for Realistic Radicals (New York: Random House). Baars, J. (1987), De mythe van de totale beheersing. Adorno, Horkheimer en de dialektiek van de vooruitgang (Amsterdam: SUA).

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Badcock, C.R. (1986), The Problem of Altruism. Freudian and Darwinian Solutions (Oxford/New York: Basil Blackwell). Berg, H. van den (1963), Sociologie van de Hulpverlening (Meppel: Boom). Bergler, E. and Meerloo, J. (1963), Justice and Injustice (New York/ London: Grune and Stratton). Bornstein, R. (1994), ‘Dependency as a Social Cue: A Meta-analytic Review of Research on the Dependency-Helping Relationship’, Journal of Research in Personality 28: 2, 182–213, Bourdieu, P. (1986), Distinction (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul). Brinkgreve, C., Onland, J. and Swaan, A. de (1979), Sociologie van de psychotherapie. De opkomst van het psychotherapeutisch bedrijf (Utrecht/Antwerpen: Het Spectrum). Brinkgreve, C. and van Stolk, B. (1987), ‘Zieken zonder Ziekte. Sociale Regressie en Blijvende Klachten bij Somatiserende Patiënten op een Polikliniek Psychiatrie’, Amsterdams Sociologisch Tijdschrift, 13:4, 597–636. Brocher, T. (1967), Gruppendynamik und Erwachsenenbildung: zum Problem der Entwicklung von Konformismus oder Autonomie in Arbeitsgruppen (Braunschweig: Westermann). Brunt, L. (1987), ‘De angst voor Babylon. Ethnografisch onderzoek in London, 1850–1914’, Amsterdams Sociologisch Tijdschrift 14:3, 437–468. Burgers, J. (1990), ‘De stad van de jaren negentig: postmoderne nederzetting?’, Sociologische Gids 37:2, 74–93. Collins, R. (1990), ‘Violent Conflict and Social Organization. Some Theoretical Implications of the Sociology of War’, Amsterdams Sociologisch Tijdschrift 16:4, 63–87. Engbersen, G. (1991), ‘Moderne armoede: feit en fictie’, Sociologische Gids, 38:1, 7–23. Ganzeboom, H., Graaf, P. de and Kalmijn, M. (1987), ‘De culturele en de economische dimensie van beroepsstatus’, Mens en Maatschappij 62:2, 153–175. Gergen, K.J. and Gergen, M.M. (1986), Social Psychology (New York/ Berlin: Springer Verlag). Gottlieb, B. (1985), ‘Combining lay and professional resources to promote human welfare: prospects and tensions’, in Yoder, J. (ed.) Support Networks in a Caring Community (Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, Dordrecht/Boston/Lancaster), 59–78.

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Hancock, G. (1991), Lords of Poverty. The Freewheeling Lifestyles, Power, Prestige and Corruption of the Multibillion Dollar Aid Business (London: Mandarin). Hepworth, D. (1993), ‘Managing Manipulative Behavior in the Helping Relationship’, Social Work, 38: 6, 674–684. Hughes, R. (1986), The Fatal Shore. The Epic of Australia’s Founding (New York: Knopf) . Klandermans, P.G. and Terra, N. (1981), Een vakbond mobiliseert. De beleving van de CAO- onderhandelingen in 1979 (Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit, Vakgroep Sociale Psychologie). Kruithof, B. (1980), ‘De deugdzame natie. Het burgerlijk beschavingsoffensief van de Maatschappij tot Nut van ‘t Algemeen tussen 1784 en 1860’, Symposion 2:1, 22–37. Kruithof, B. (1990), Zonde en deugd in domineesland. Nederlandse protestanten en problemen van opvoeding, zeventiende tot twintigste eeuw (Groningen: Wolters-Noordhoff). Lubove, R. (1972), The Professional Altruist. The Emergence of Social Work as a Career (New York: Athenaeum). Luhmann, N. (1973), ‘Formen des Helfens im Wandel gesellschaftlichen Bedingungen’, in Otto, H.U. and Schneider, S. (eds), Gesellschaftliche Perspektiven der Sozialarbeit (Neuwied und Darmstadt: Luchterhand), 21–43. Lulofs, J.G. (1983), ‘Professies en de markt voor vertrouwensgoederen’, in Lindenberg, S. and Stokman, F. Modellen in de Sociologie (Deventer: Van Loghum Slaterus), 92–111. Maeder, T. (1989), ‘Wounded Healers. The old joke that therapists are more disturbed than other people may be no joke’, The Atlantic Monthly: January. Mann, Th. (1924), Der Zauberberg (Berlijn/Frankfurt: Fischer). Minuchin, S. (1973), Gezinstherapie. Analyse van de gezinsstructuur en gezinsstructuurtherapie (Utrecht/Antwerpen: Het Spectrum). Minuchin, S. (1974), Families and Family Therapy (Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press). Mishra, R. (1981), Society and Social Policy: Theoretical Perspectives on Welfare (London: Macmillan). Parsons, T. (1951), The Social System (Glencoe: The Free Press). Paykel, E.S. (1991), ‘Depression in Women’, British Journal of Psychiatry 158: suppl. 10, 22–29.

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Piliavin, J. and Charng, H.W. (1990), ‘Altruism: A Review of Recent Theory and Research’, Annual Review of Sociology 16, 27–65. Polansky, N. (1959), ‘The Professional Identity in Social Work’, in Kahn, A. (ed.) Issues in American Social Work (New York: Columbia University Press), 93–318. Riessman, F. (1965), ‘The “Helper Therapy” Principle’, in Social Work 10, 27–32. Schmidbauer, W. (1977), Die hilflosen Helfer. Uber die seelische Problematik der helfenden Berufe (Reinbek: Rowohlt). Shlonsky, H.R. (1971), ‘Welfare Programs and the Social System: A Conceptual Examination of “Social Services” and “Income Maintenance Services”’, Social Service Review 45:4, 414–425. Strean, H.S. (ed.) (1986), Countertransference (New York: Haworth Press). Sutton, F.X. (1987), ‘The Ford Foundation: The Early Years’, Daedalus. Journal of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences 116:1, 41–91. Swaan, A. de (1988), In Care of the State (Cambridge: Polity Press). Verhey, F. (1979), Gezinstherapie. Een Overzicht: Historie en Perspectief (Rotterdam: Kooijker Wetenschappelijke Uitgeverij). Vroon, P. (1988), Allemaal psychisch (Baarn: Ambo). Waddington, P. (1979), ‘Looking Ahead: Community Work into the 1980s’, Community Development Journal 14:3, 224–235. Weiss, R. (1973), ‘Helping Relationships: Relationships of Clients with Physicians, Social Workers, Priests, and Others’, Social Problems 20: 3, 319–328. Witz, A. (1992), Professions and Patriarchy (London: Routledge Kegan Paul).

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Chapter 6

The Role of Magic and Rituals Social intervention aims to bring about change in the behaviour of an individual, in the way an organization operates or in the way larger social groups function. Change is a key word. Letting go of routines and existing patterns brings with it insecurity and sometimes also fear. The third element is called in to help because there is no prospect of the desired change occurring naturally. When the intervening party appears on the scene, he will have to take this insecurity into account. An important resource in this regard is the use of magic (Friebertshäuser 2001). In this chapter we will discuss this aspect of social interventions. In doing so, we will take the work of consultants as an example. 6.1 Is it like Magic? Consultants are called in when managers of corporations and organizations face major changes. Cultural changes and transitions from one stage of development to another are among the subjects studied in cultural anthropology. This chapter looks at how cultural anthropological insights into transition rituals can be applied to consultancy practice and social interventions in general. It is postulated that one of the roles played by the consultant in this context is that of a shaman who guides the transition from the old to the new with rituals, but also with rules. This approach has so far received little attention in management, social work and consultancy literature. Consultants advise on processes of change1 within or between organizations, the consultant operating as a direct ‘change agent’ (Buchanan and Boddy 1992; Beckhard and Pritchard 1992; Armenakis and Field 1993; Connor 1993). When the consultant arrives on the scene, the people directly concerned are often in a state of confusion: they are aware that something is afoot, but do not know exactly what. The prevailing fear 1 We are aware of the many other symbolic roles consultants may play in preparing for change, coping with post-change confusion and anxiety, and even in sustaining status quo or preventing change.

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is that their job, career or department’s future is on the line. No matter how you define the situation, the consultant’s workplace is invariably dominated by uneasiness and stress. It is up to the consultant to use his experience and expertise to defuse the tension and steer the organization into calmer waters. Cultural anthropological studies explain how shamans seek to make anxiety and uncertainty controllable through rituals and symbols (Beattie 1966; van Gennep 1960). In other, mainly non-western cultures, the witch doctor, magician and medicine man are important figures, helping people to fulfil their wishes (rain, good harvest) or to avert adversity (sickness). Magicians are also instrumental in smoothing the various transitions in the life cycle: birth, puberty (sexual maturity), marriage and death. In both cases ritual plays a pivotal role. Here the magicians are the wise men, the experts who structure the rituals to ensure they are properly conducted. This is where a comparison can be drawn with the ‘western’ profession of consultant: aren’t consultants also, in a certain sense, shamans who guide and structure important transitions through the use of rituals and symbols? This chapter addresses two questions: is it true that, as agents of change, consultants too make use of rituals and, if so, what symbolic and ritual aspects can be identified in the consultant’s work? 6.2 Rituals and Symbols in Cultural Anthropology Symbols are special signs and, according to Verkuijten, can be seen as ‘a special form of giving meaning’ (1990: 2). According to Beattie ‘all symbolism can be regarded as a kind of language, a way of saying something ...’ (1966: 202). ‘Through symbols we confront the experiential chaos that envelops us and create order’ (Kertzer 1988: 4). In the realm of symbolism and magic people are subsumed within a larger whole. The symbolic dimension expresses something vital in appealing to the non-rational, emotional side of man. The ritual, for its part, combines this symbolic aspect with an instrumental aspect. Kertzer (1988: 9) defines a ritual as ‘symbolic behaviour that is socially standardized and repetitive’. Rituals serve to channel emotions, guide new experiences and knowledge, and promote group formation. Through rituals we are able to invest our world with meaning by linking the past with the present and the present with the future. Thus, rituals are instrumental in helping us to deal with two central human problems: they help us to build up a personal identity by offering a sense of continuity – ‘I

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am the same person today as I was twenty years ago and as I will be ten years from now’ – and give us the reassurance that the world we live in today is the same as the world of yesterday and the world that will confront us in the future (Kertzer 1988: 9–10). Rituals allow people to place their own subjective experiences in a wider social context. In addition, rituals conjure up emotions. To this end, they often have a dramatic structure like a theatrical play in which those most directly concerned act out the various roles (Kertzer 1988: 10–11). In Chapter 12 of Other Cultures, entitled ‘The Field of Ritual: Magic’, Beattie states that people perform rituals because they believe this will help to create a desirable situation or ward off an undesirable one, and that the most important difference between a purely intellectual act and a magical– religious act is that the former lacks a symbolic element. As for magic and religion, both employ rituals to convey symbolic meaning. With religion the focus is on more or less personalized objects of spiritual devotion (spirits, gods, souls), while magic is aimed at arousing the sympathy of impersonal powers. Magic is symbolical, but is used as an instrument to achieve certain aims. These can be life-enhancing (rain, children, harvest) or life-threatening (death, sickness), the latter being black magic. A great many rituals copy the desired situation; they help to say what needs to be said. Ritual makes it clear what people find important and desirable. It is not expected to provide a direct causal explanation. In less developed societies, sickness, death and violence are everyday occurrences. Lacking scientific explanations, people tend to clutch at symbolic means: rituals (magic) and religion. Under these circumstances rituals first of all serve to explain events which would otherwise be inexplicable and, in so doing, offer a remedy against anxiety, doubt and ignorance. Secondly, rituals also offer a way of enacting situations. According to Radcliffe Brown (quoted by Beattie), rituals emphasize important social values such as collective sentiment and solidarity (Beattie 1966: 202–218). Even our ‘modern’ societies are characterized by a large number of rituals which either explicitly clarify the new situation to the environment (receptions at weddings and retirement), reaffirm the shared values of a certain group (the communal meal after a funeral) or mark a certain phase in someone’s life (graduation ceremony). In every society people go through various stages or changes in status. The transitions from one status to the next are marked by ‘rites of passage’. In his seminal work entitled Rites of Passage (1960) Van Gennep distinguishes three phases with attendant rituals:

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Phases Separation Transition Incorporation

Rituals rites of separation (detachment from the old status) rites of segregation (termination of the ordinary, daily life) rites of integration (assumption of a new status and the return to society)

Often these rites of passage involve circumcisions and other painful fear-provoking ordeals to ensure that those who experience the transition will share a strong mutual tie in later life. Turner gives a further explanation of these three phases: The first phase of separation clearly demarcates sacred space and time from profane or secular space and time...It includes symbolic behaviour – especially symbols of reversal or inversion of things, relationships and secular processes – which represents the detachment of the ritual subjects (novices, candidates, neophytes or “initiands”) from their previous social statuses ... During the intervening phase of transition, called by Van Gennep ‘margin’ or ‘limen’ (meaning ‘threshold’ in Latin) the ritual subjects pass through a period and area of ambiguity, a sort of social limbo which has few (though sometimes these are the most crucial) of the attributes of either the preceding or subsequent profane social statuses or cultural states ... The third phase, called by Van Gennep ‘reagregation’ or ‘incorporation’ includes symbolic phenomena and actions which represent the return of the subjects to their new, relatively stable, well-defined position in the total society (Turner 1982: 24).

Malinowski distinguishes three elements in a magical ritual: • • •

the incantation or magic words the rite, the act that is performed the spiritual state of the person conducting the ritual or the ritual state of those about to undergo the transition: free of hate, virginal state, and so on (Beattie 1966: 213).

6.3 Rituals in Consultancy Practice Let us now turn to the management consultant’s actions to establish its ritual content. We will follow Van Gennep’s subdivision of phases to find out whether consultants – consciously or unconsciously – organize actions with a ritual character.

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Separation and the Initiation Ritual The first contact between the manager and the consultant is crucial. The latter must display power and expertise from the outset. For the manager is placing his or her fate in the hands of the consultant and will not be prepared to do so unless the consultant inspires confidence, makes a self-assured impression and, if need be, is able to speak as an equal. In consultancy practice this is often called a psychological contract. To achieve the desired effect, consultants will consciously/unconsciously adapt their behaviour, emphasizing certain things and avoiding others. In the initial talks both parties will size each other up. Such aspects as dress, titles, age, method of formulation, and use of the correct abbreviations are extremely important in this context. Research on selection interviews shows that the first 10 to 15 minutes are decisive for people’s initial feeling as to whether it will click or not. Depending on the type of engagement, the consultant must demonstrate in the initiation rites that he is independent, forceful and able to defend his own opinions. Particularly with a rather dominant manager in a top position, it must be made clear from the start that the consultant insists on having sufficient scope to raise sensitive issues and to disagree when he sees fit. The consultant for his or her part, volunteers very little information. As a rule, only uncertain consultants will offer a lot of information on their own qualities. The consultant shows respect for the client (‘there are no bad clients, but there are bad intake interviews’) and listens carefully to the client. The consultant is responsible for the initiation ritual. If a client turns up late and doesn’t have much time, a good consultant will refuse to conduct the interview and propose to make a new appointment. In this way the consultant tells the client loud and clear: ‘That’s not how we do business here’. Experience shows that some managers like to ‘test’ consultants in their first interview by adopting remarkable standpoints. A consultant who reacts to these in an extremely polite and carefully worded manner will often not be invited for a second interview. Coaxing into a Ritual Situation The manager must be manoeuvred into a certain frame of mind to be able to change. The consultant’s formula at this point is to give an adequate diagnosis in such terms that the manager ‘starts to see the light’: ‘Yes, that’s it. You’ve put your finger on it. I’ve never looked at it in that way’,

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and so on. Apart from the diagnosis, this also represents the first step towards ‘reframing’. In the organization undergoing change, the consultant initiates a process in which ordinary place and time arrangements are exchanged for special time and space. Existing procedures and positions are reviewed. People and departments are loosened ‘from their previous social status’. As regards rites of separation, one example that can be mentioned is the annual screening of an organization’s forms. Every year a number of these forms are discarded as being no longer effective. This act is performed in a communal meeting where the director together with the staff literally buries the ill-fated forms over an informal drink. Transition Everything hinges on the manager’s belief in the cure. The manager must be prepared to change. The psychological contract is a first step in this direction. After the first interview, the consultant offers a quotation while also drafting a second contract, the contract of change, which outlines the product that the manager can expect. The contract of change indicates what will happen if all goes well and also what will happen if things go wrong (for example, the engagement may be rescinded). In many cases a short-term contract is offered first (for example, for the performance of a preliminary study) which not only has value in terms of content but is also significant in ritual terms (that is to reinforce the trust in the consultant and thus increase the client’s willingness to change). The client receives the reassurance that he can always shout ‘stop’ and in this way the contract defuses any tension that may exist with the client and strengthens the willingness to change. The ritual of change is surrounded by tight rules. These are made clear in the definite contract. This concerns matters such as: the consultant’s access to information, confidentiality, and so on. The rules in the contract of change, in turn, have a strong impact on the process of change: the contract increases the pressure on the organization and, as every consultant knows, everything becomes liquid under pressure. The consultant can even step up the pressure through ‘pain management’, for example by making subsidized institutions aware that the subsidies may be stopped or by urging commercial institutions to seek a merger or to pay more attention to the ‘external’ world (market; profit forecasts).

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In connection with ‘transition’ and ‘rites of segregation’, for instance, a project team assigned to an important process of change can be provided with separate accommodation where the team not only starts operating under a separate name but even has its own separate stationery. During the transition phase some people/departments cling (anxiously) to their former tasks and job descriptions. Central values and interests are at stake and become visible during the process of change. Other people and departments put all their energy into adopting new behaviour. During this transition the central elements of both the ‘old’ and ‘new’ come to the fore. It is the consultant’s task to structure this period of ambiguity with ritual actions and ‘magic’ words. In this period a great deal of information is provided and interim meetings are held both collectively and individually. Incorporation After the transition, people and departments take up their new positions. This is done through the appointment of new managers and departmental heads, thus formally legitimizing new responsibilities and procedures. The change is often rounded off with a collective meeting, where the new house style and corporate philosophy are presented. In the context of ‘incorporation’ and ‘rites of integration’, we can mention the example of a merger between two departments where the staff follows a four-day outward-bound course to start off the integration process. 6.4 Social Intervention by a Shaman Cultural anthropologists emphasize the symbolical value of rituals in times of important change. With organizational changes, cultural aspects – symbolism, magic, rituals – also play a central role, as we hope to have shown. The consultant surrounds the organizational change with rituals. First of all, he coaxes all those involved into a ritual situation, structures the change with clear rules and closes the process when the new situation has stabilized. The consultant, in short, goes through the phases of separation, transition and incorporation as described by Van Gennep. There is a consultancy model with which the subdivision into the three components ‘content, process and procedure’ can be used to analyse the consultant’s actions. The consultant brings expertise and experience to the job. The faith that is put in him and which he progressively builds up is the process side. Finally the consultant offers a procedure (either

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project-based or not) thereby reinforcing the participants’ feeling that they are taking part in a controlled and well-managed process of change. These three reinforce each other but ultimately the crux is to reduce the client’s uncertainty. This analytical model combines perfectly with insights about the role of the shaman developed by cultural anthropologists. References Armenakis, A.A. and Field, H.S. (1993), ‘The Role of Schema in Organizational Change: Change Agent and Change Target Perspectives’, in Golembiewski, R.T. (ed.) Handbook of Organizational Behaviour (New York: Marcel Dekker Inc.), 405–427. Beattie, J. (1966), Other Cultures: Aims, Methods and Achievements in Social Anthropology 3rd edn (London: Cohen and West). Beckhard, R. and Pritchard, W. (1992), Changing the Essence (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Publishers). Buchanan, D. and Boddy, D. (1992), The Expertise of the Change Agent (New York: Prentice Hall). Conner, D.R. (1993), Managing at the Speed of Change (New York: Villard Books). Friebertshäuser, B. (2001), ‘Rituale im pädagogischen Alltag. Inszenierungen von Statuspassagen in Institutionen der öffentlichen Erziehung’, Neue Praxis 31:5, 491–506. Gennep, A. van (1960), The Rites of Passage (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul). Kertzer, D.I. (1988), Ritual, Politics and Power (New Haven and London: Yale University Press). Turner, V. (1982), From Ritual to Theatre. The Human Seriousness of Play (New York: P.A.J. Publications). Verkuyten, M. (1990), Symbool en Samenleving. Over symbolen en hun rol in het sociale leven [Symbols in society] (Zeist: Kerckebosch).

Chapter 7

Community Work as a Third Element 7.1 Introduction: From Theory to Practice The opening chapters introduced the ‘stranger’, the ‘third element’, the ‘triad’, and explained the theoretical framework. Social distance between parties, problems between parties, and lack of expertise to solve them: these three factors shape the conditions under which the third element can be enlisted. Individuals, community groups, organizations and governments are willing to manage their interaction with their environment (personal, non-material or material) and want to solve or tackle any problems they encounter. They seek support, help, relief, success, insights, results and – not least – change. Accordingly, they contact a stranger: a consultant. What can this stranger offer? What does the professional outsider, the social worker, consultant or community worker bring to the situation he or she meets? The stranger’s qualities and characteristics were described in Chapter 2. The stranger’s mere appearance promises change. The ‘third element’ enters the problem from the outside; that very fact, in itself, may reshuffle existing relationships. Besides making this ‘passive’ contribution to the solution the stranger regulates ‘social distance’ in a professional manner. Keeping your distance is an important skill in professional social intervention. ‘Two steps towards the client (system) and one step back’. Why? To allow the professional interventionist the independence he or she needs to overview the situation before changing it. A second important skill is knowing how to steer change in the desired direction. In other words, expertise in relation to the problem: this may take the form of knowledge of organizational change, family dynamics, community building, development, etc. Social intervention is, by definition, social. This means that the professional has to support and guide clients, groups, organizations and governments to self-help – a core value, which presupposes at the same

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time the episodic duration of a social intervention. Change is induced for a certain period of time and successful change will be absorbed in a new pattern of individual, group, organization or government behaviour. One vital tool in attaining the set goals is a contract that assures the legitimacy of the intervention. Independence, regulating social distance, and the focus on self-help place heavy demands on the approach of the professional. How does one use power – the power to engineer change – in a professional way? The pitfalls and opportunities of asymmetrical relationships in social intervention were discussed in detail in Chapter 5. Power relationships and social intervention may look alike, but they are fundamentally different. One feature of the stranger has yet to be mentioned. This was addressed in Chapter 6. The intervention will have a greater chance of success if the ‘stranger’ is perceived as a magician who creates optimal conditions for change by ritualizing the required steps. To sum up, the message for professional social interventionists reads: use ‘social distance’ and ‘expertise’ in your – contractually formalized – social intervention to ‘dynamize’, and use ‘asymmetry’ and ‘magic’ to realize change. This, in a nutshell, covers the theoretical framework presented in this book. How do consultants, social workers, mediators and community workers operate when they are called in to provide support or help? What kind of problems or questions do they find? As stated in Chapter 1, the nature of the problem (including the quality of the required expertise) and the nature of the relationship mark out the ‘playing field’ of professional intervention. If the problem is serious and located on one side of the relationship – take, for instance, drug addiction among youngsters, which requires action from local government – then a professional mobilizer or supporter will most likely be called in. If, on the other hand, the problem is simple and twosided, touching both parties, then a mediator is more appropriate. Having summarized the content of the previous chapters, the time has come to implement these theories in community work, one of the three forms of social work besides individual and group work (Friedlander 1958). Community work is sometimes seen as a method, sometimes as a profession: a community worker taps in to community resources to empower people, groups or communities to improve the quality of their lives or their environment. However, first, we shall present a brief history of community work.

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7.2 Community Work in Retrospect In Social Diagnosis Richmond (1917) outlined methods for professional social intervention. At that time, industrialization was bringing about profound changes in family, work and community relations in the United States and Europe. It caused a massive shift towards urbanization with more and more people leaving the countryside to look for jobs in booming city economies. It also created a wealthy new elite of entrepreneurs and businessmen as well as huge social problems and mounting poverty. Unions were founded and class conflicts emerged. Industrialization radically transformed the traditional family structure and the position of women. Men went out to work and women were consigned to the home. Around 1900 a feminist movement appeared in the US and Europe (Cott 1987). The industrial capitalist economy forced women to create their own space. They made new jobs so that they could enter the labour market. It was then that the professions of nurse, teacher and social worker saw the light of day (Fuchs and Thompson 2005). In fact, the world’s first professional school of social work was founded in Amsterdam (Netherlands) in 1899. Richmond’s Social Diagnosis aimed first to professionalize the new ‘job’ of social worker and secondly to stress the interrelationship between individual problems and social causes. Individual suffering was fed by social injustice. Hence, helping people goes hand in hand with social change. Richmond reflected on the societal origins of problems. Casework on behalf of individuals was, indeed, social casework (a later book by Richmond, 1922). As methods, casework, group work and community work formed different aspects of professional social intervention. Casework with the focus on the individual required work on social causes, in other words, community work and mobilization. As the profession of social worker developed further in the US the emphasis shifted from two-sided casework to individual casework within the context of social causes. There are no obvious or convincing explanations for this change. Perhaps it was triggered by a combination of factors: the need for social work to professionalize, the search for a theoretical framework, the availability of such a framework (introduced from Europe, by psychotherapy) the success of psychotherapy, and unmanageable social structures and forces. These factors made social workers concentrate solely on their clients and redefine social problems as individual problems, and so on. By the second half of the twentieth century casework in the US was rooted in psychotherapy and psychiatry (Hollis 1964). In the UK, on the

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contrary, social work persisted to be ‘social’ in combining the treatment of individual cases with the advocacy to change the structural causes. Two totally different and separate trends even led to a revival in the US and Western Europe in the 1960s. First, the gap between local governments and citizenry forced the national government in the UK to establish community development projects, which also stimulated the professionalizing of the occupation of ‘community worker’. Second, the civil rights movement in the US threatened the legitimacy of government and politics and, at the same time, foreshadowed a cultural revolution which would disturb structural and cultural patterns in society. Everywhere people were calling for ‘participation’ and ‘structural change’. Events followed more or less the same course in Western Europe. The ideas, methods and theories of grass-roots movements were rediscovered. Community organizers such as Freire (1971) and Alinski (1971) became famous. The political, economic and social elite became confused. In the course of the 1960s and 1970s community work mushroomed in the USA, Great Britain, Sweden and the Netherlands alike. These turbulent decades witnessed a demand on the part of multifarious groups for participation, the appointment of community workers and the implementation of a wide range of projects. There was a parallel rise in academic interest in community work and development. A myriad of project evaluations and books on community work methods were published. The authors included Alinski (1971), Kramer and Specht (1969) in the USA, Thomas (1983), Waddington (1979) and Henderson (1980) in the UK, G. Swedner (1969), H. Swedner (1975, 1976) in Sweden, Boer (1960) and Hendriks (1962) in the Netherlands. Community work may essentially be defined as an instrument, a method to activate and organize groups of people. In the United States and Western Europe, however, this method is practised by professional community workers to promote the participation of specific groups or to help deprived areas alter their structure. Most British, Swedish and Dutch community workers and community work projects are government-subsidized. In a way, community workers are thus ‘paid officials’. In these countries, community work functions as a link and has a very specific intermediary position. In this chapter we focus on this intermediary position of the third element between government authorities and the groups involved. Moreover, the theoretical framework of the former chapters will be applied in the case of community work.

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Government willingness to subsidize community work has been analysed by numerous authors. Litwak and Meyer (1966) noted that in order to establish contact with primary groups in the community, the official bureaucracy needed a linking mechanism. Offe (1974) argued that the rise in the sums spent on community work was due to the legitimization problems of the state, and that political parties as well as government bureaucracies felt the need for new information and legitimacy flows outside the political system. Cockburn (1977) similarly explained the growth of community work by referring to the internal transformation of the state. By the end of the 1960s, the British government bureaucracy had been turned into an effective hierarchical organization oriented toward the principles of corporate management. However, since corporate management principles tended to overlook an essential feature of the state system – the need for information and legitimacy – the community approach was introduced as well. Government agencies appointed numerous community workers to support local groups. It was not solely as a result of state strategy that community work was to mushroom. Waddington (1979) emphasized the role of protest movements representing minority groups. Local authorities were called upon to react, but were unable to do so. It was via community work that they established a channel through which they could communicate with these protest groups. 7.3 Social Distance and Linking From an analytical point of view, subsidized community work in Great Britain, Sweden and the Netherlands should be viewed as a linking mechanism (Litwak and Meyer 1966), brokerage (Boissevain 1974) or third element (Simmel 1950). As a rule, linking mechanisms are used by parties (actors) who want something from each other. It is the task of intermediaries, whether brokers or mediators, to play a role in this process. In this sense, community work helps establish contact between government authorities and the various groups within the community. Community work can help these groups formulate and enforce their demands. It can serve an advisory function vis-à-vis the government or set up and supervise an open forum to give representatives of the community a say in matters. Intermediaries usually appear under the following circumstances:

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• • • • •

There are at least two parties involved. The parties differ in kind, for example, a highly bureaucratic government and an unorganized group of tenants. There is a certain extent of social distance between the parties. As regards one or more parties or in the interaction between them, there are problems to be solved or improvements to be made. The parties themselves do not have the skills or know-how to solve these problems or make these improvements.

In other words, the assistance of a third element can be enlisted if and when the social distance between the parties is viewed as problematic and they themselves lack the know-how to solve the problem in direct dialogue with each other. The third element is then expected to have the required know-how or skills. In order to serve as a link, the third party should have at least three qualities: a. a special position and the flexibility to move back and forth between the actors; b a certain extent of power, knowledge and expertise; c a certain extent of legitimacy in the eyes of the actors. The first quality has been addressed in Chapter 2. We shall provide a brief recap. The appearance of a third party between two actors, one being the government and the other a group, greatly alters the way they interact. The relationship pattern becomes more complex. The third party changes the government/group dyad into a triad. The third party only increases the number of actors by one, but the number of relationships increases from one to three. This heightened complexity provides an opportunity for new dynamics and thus for change. As soon as the third party appears on the stage, for instance, the game of changing coalitions can be played: ‘two against one: coalitions in triads’ (Caplow 1968). 7.4 Community Work in the Twenty-first Century As noted above, community work is generally state-subsidized in Great Britain, Sweden and the Netherlands. In these cases, an analytical approach to the role of community work as third party might suffice, even when welfare states are in transition. At the end of the twentieth century governments instituted considerable changes in their approach to problems and people. Local governments turned

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into more open, flexible organizations allowing scope for more citizen participation. These developments fundamentally changed the linking and affected the intermediary function and position of community work. Besides this ‘internal’ change, there has been the tendency for governments to transfer responsibility to the market and the voluntary and charitable sector. It invites the business community, voluntary private organizations, religious organizations, foundations and family networks to participate in issues such as education, healthcare and social security, where there are political claims of ‘civil society” and ‘community care’. Mishra (1986) refers to this phenomenon as ‘welfare capitalism’. To some extent, there is bound to be a diminution in the capacity of the welfare state. Other ‘auspices’ should or will take over some of its tasks. This shift to a welfare capitalistic state will prompt community work to reflect on its professional role. As a result of these changes, community work and/or community workers may have to choose between the following three options in the years ahead (these options are not mutually exclusive): 1. Downward option. The emphasis is on addressing the specific problems of specific groups or localities. Community workers will focus on minorities, long-term unemployment, group empowerment or neighbourhood improvement. The legitimacy for intervention stems from the seriousness of the problem. This very fact gives the worker freedom to operate, irrespective of his/her source of income. 2. Upward option. The emphasis here is on advising local authorities. Community work stresses its expertise in providing social services, social planning and so forth, representing community groups as an authorized agent. The workers behave like officials, but in an outreach setting. 3. Independent option. The emphasis is on professional expertise. Community workers may put themselves in a downward or upward position, or even in the middle, but the intervention is legitimized by knowledge. The professional role will be that of the changeagent, invested with independence and authority. All three options exist at present and will continue to do so in the future. The independent option creates the most mobility and flexibility for community work. All three options played a role in Orme’s concluding remarks on her analysis of the relationship between social work and community work (Orme 2006). ‘Alternative, radical approaches, seek to mobilise and motivate’ (downward option). ‘… policies for working

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with communities can involve top-down approaches that seek to placate and pacify individuals and groups. There is a danger that community care policies merely require communities to replace other statutory resources for meeting needs’ (upward option). ‘…a community development approach seeks to engage with communities to ensure that needs are identified and that resources are demanded. Also, communities can operate creatively to advocate for, or to meet needs in ways that are meaningful to those in the community. Such approaches complement the social work processes… As such they represent an important context for social work practice’ (independent option). References Alinsky, S. (1971), Rules for Radicals (New York: Random House). Boer, J. (1960), Opbouwwerk [Community Work] (Arnhem: Van Loghum Slaterus). Boissevain, J. (1974), Friends of Friends, Networks, Manipulators and Coalitions (Oxford: Blackwell). Caplow, T. (1968), Two Against One: Coalitions in Triads (New Jersey: Prentice Hall). Cockburn, C. (1977), The Local State. Management of Cities and People (London: Pluto Press). Cott, N.F. (1987), The Grounding of Modern Feminism (New Haven and London: Yale University Press). Freire, P. (1970), Pedagogy of the Oppressed (New York: Continuum Publishing Company). Friedlander, W. (ed.) (1958), Concepts and Methods of Social Work (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall). Fuchs, R.G. and Thompson, V.E. (2005), Women in Nineteenth-century Europe (New York: Palgrave Macmillan). Henderson, P., Jones, D. and Thomas, D.N. (eds) (1980), The Boundaries of Change in Community Work (London: Allen and Unwin). Hendriks, G. (1962), ‘Rural and Urban Community Development’. Tijdschrift voor Maatschappelijk Werk. Hollis, F. (1964), Casework: A Psychosocial Therapy (New York: Random House). Kramer, R. and Specht, H. (ed.) (1989), Readings in Community Organization Practice (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall).

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Litwak, E. and Meyer, H.J. (1966), ‘A Balance Theory of Coordination between Bureaucratic Organizations and Community Primary Groups’, Administrative Science Quarterly, 11:1, 31–58. McCarthy, K.D. (1990), Lady Bountiful Revisited: Women, Power and Philanthropy (New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press). Mishra, R. (1986), ‘Social Analysis and the Welfare State: Retrospect and Prospect’, in Oyen, E. (ed.), Comparing Welfare States and their Futures (Aldershot/Vermont: Gower), 20–32. Offe, C. (1974), ‘Doppelstrategie der planenden Verwaltung’, in Bahr, H.E. and Gronemeyer, R. (eds), Konfliktorientierte Gemeinwesenarbeit. (Neuwied/Darmstadt: Luchterhand), 74–82. Orme, J. and Coulshed, V. (2006), Social Work Practice, 4th edition (Basingstoke: Palgrave). Richmond, M. (1917), Social Diagnosis (New York: Russell Sage Foundation). Richmond, M. (1922), What is Social Case Work? (New York: Russell Sage Foundation). Simmel, G. (1908), in Wolff, K.H. (1950), The Sociology of Georg Simmel (New York: The Free Press). Swedner, G. (1969), Socialarbetaren och Samhallsforandringar (Lund: University Press). Swedner, H. (1975), Ostergard: en Rapport fran Ostergardgruppen (Stockholm: Social Hogskolan). Swedner, H. (1976), ‘Deficiencies in Action Research and Community Work’, Community Work Abstracts 12. Thomas, D.N. (1983), The Making of Community Work (London: Allen and Unwin). Waddington, P. (1979), ‘Looking Ahead: Community Work into the 1980s’, Community Development Journal 14:3, 224–235.

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Chapter 8

Dynamizing the Western European Welfare State Model 8.1 Reconstruction of the Welfare State Discussions about the future of most western European welfare states usually concern two alternatives: the government and the market. Government represents collective solidarity, an overall welfare package. The market is associated with inequality. Our first question is indeed whether the discussion about future social policy must always lead to the opposing poles of government versus marketplace and collective solidarity versus inequality. Is the market not in a position to create collective solidarity and does state social welfare not also promote, or at any rate, perpetuate inequality? The second question is whether there isn’t more to the welfare state debate than only the roles of government and the market. Are kinship and philanthropy not also social mechanisms that can create solidarity? One can, in any case, confirm that in the Netherlands, as in other Western European countries, philanthropy has made a comeback. A welfare state can be defined as form of social structure whereby a free market economy and a pluralistic democratic political structure guarantee a certain welfare for the population (Mishra 1986: 31; De Swaan 1988). The term ‘certain welfare’ implies a given minimum in (financial) security. Education is usually also guaranteed by law in welfare states, and health care frequently is as well. In some countries, housing (for certain target groups) may also be covered by government regulation. The crux of the welfare state structure lies in political intervention (through government) in the market (decommodification: Esping-Andersen 1990). The market and government are alternative mechanisms through which primary human needs (food, education, health, housing) can be provided. Welfare states are the result of collective response to setbacks and calamities (De Swaan 1988). Under government leadership and by way of payment of taxes, citizens save up to protect themselves against

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potential disaster. The real significance of the welfare state lies primarily in its potential for social integration (Mishra 1981; Offe 1984), in the sense that a secure existence is offered to all citizens. The strength of the welfare state does not depend on the reduction of social stratification and inequality, because lower income groups benefit, middle income groups benefit more and high income groups benefit most (Mishra 1981). Absolute poverty is reduced, but relative poverty remains or is increased. The strength of the welfare state is precisely that it does not redistribute, but instead ensures a high degree of social stability (Offe 1984, Mishra 1981). The welfare state is by no means a closed chapter in social policy theory on developments in Western European countries. On the one hand – and primarily by British authors – the objectives of the welfare state ‘before the dismantling of (welfare state) facilities’ are being strongly championed (Leonard 1997; George and Taylor-Gooby 1996; Hill 1993). On the other side, authors point out the problems that will accompany the further integration of the EU (Hill 1996: 318; Clasen 1999; George and Taylor-Gooby 1996). They warn of the general lowering of standards if the European labour market is thrown open while the social structures of individual member states still differ in level, quality and degree. Both groups of writers share a common fear of adverse market effects on social services. The market is posed as the opposite to government. The question is whether the theory here does justice to the reality. The market – as the past has proven – has produced many counter-movements that have realized social security for specific collective target groups. Is it actually the case that only government is in a position to realize collective solidarity? Have not market forces in the past been just as capable of creating solidarity? Until the crisis of the 1930s, for example, the English labour movement strongly opposed every form of state assistance (Krätke 1982: 107). They feared that by handing over responsibility for social welfare to the government, the labour movement would lose its power, keeping in mind the motto: ‘If you feed a lion cooked meat, he’ll stop growling’. Belief in the state is being defended with tremendous tenacity, despite the fact that the state continues to emerge as a more and more unreliable employer and financier. A new perspective for welfare services, and for other collective facilities, can be created if one begins with two thoughts: 1) the state and collective solidarity are not identical, and 2) collective solidarity does exist outside government.

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A welfare state is financed by levied taxes. For taxpaying citizens and businesses, this is an indirect means of establishing security, because the final appropriation of the available tax moneys takes place by way of political decision-making, a process in which the taxpayer has only little influence. One of the major points of criticism of the welfare state has been, and is, that the lines of responsibility are too long or too obscure. Because citizens and businesses put their tax moneys into a ‘big pot’, a situation develops, unnoticed, whereby it becomes fairly simple to ascribe potential debits to the public account (the ‘big pot’) while potential profits can be privately appropriated. ‘Boss in your own home, but the home is at the expense of the public’ (Van Doorn 1978: 29). This tendency to shift or downslide, combined with other criticisms, has led to a fundamental reassessment of the welfare state and the relationships created within the welfare state between government, citizen, private initiative and industry. In reviewing the welfare state, responsibilities are being explicitly identified and redefined. Lines are drawn between financial contributions and the objectives they have envisioned. The citizen becomes more of a contributor to an insurance policy than a taxpayer, and/or pays the premiums himself in the form of personal contributions. Business and industry are now increasingly involved in countless social aspects of economic activity (employee training and health care, community responsibility and community investment in living environments). To realize collective objectives, private institutions, churches and foundations are increasingly taking responsibility for collective affairs (Van der Ploeg et al. 1995). Given that highly industrialized societies cannot exist without active government involvement, the welfare state will not disappear. But the central values and paradigms will change, as will the nature and the contribution of those involved, as well as the institutionalized form they take. 8.2 New Models In short, in new developments in the ‘welfare state’, the private domain of the citizen, the non-profit sector and the market sector are taking on greater importance, alongside the government sector. In the future, welfare will, in the first instance, depend on each individual citizen. When others are called upon for help, that help and support will have to come from the traditional triumvirate of family, church and state, plus private organizations and industry. To put it in table form:

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Table 8.1 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

Models of the welfare state

Government model (social services and ‘fiscal welfare’) Insurance model Occupational welfare model Primary network model Philanthropy model

We will briefly explain each of these models. The shift away from the paradigm of the ‘welfare state’ means that other models are being added to the government model. Government continues to guarantee a number of fundamental (welfare) services. The Dutch government, in pulling back to these basic services within this framework, is now concentrating on formulating policy objectives, on developing policy frameworks and maintaining their supervision of the game rules (Osborne and Gaebler 1993). Wherever possible, the task of executing these policies is divested or contracted out. The responsible citizen becomes the cornerstone of the welfare state. For a time, the ‘calculating citizen’, has been able to profit from government benefits or facilities, but he is now receiving the bill in the form of personal premiums. The government, moreover, still pays its own contribution for the new independence by making collective participation – in some cases – tax deductible. Training, education, family member care, childcare, specific (gift) benefits, and so on, within bounds, can be deducted. English language literature here refers to ‘fiscal welfare’, or the ‘hidden welfare state’ (Mishra 1981). The most prominently advancing model is the insurance model. As saving under government administration is reduced, citizens find other means of protecting themselves against risks, by way of individual and/ or collective insurance. They include insurance in the areas of income maintenance, health and education. The third model is occupational welfare, including the facilities and services provided by business and industry. In the market sector, company responsibility for the welfare of its personnel has long been known as occupational welfare. Training facilities, working conditions, housing, childcare and policies for older employees are included in the occupational welfare category. Occupational welfare is based on the idea that care which is important for work, production and distribution will be guaranteed by those directly involved in the process: the employers and

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employees. It is in the company’s own interest that its personnel receives the level of care that keeps them capable of performing the work. In Marxist terms, this care facilitates the ‘reproduction of the workforce’. It is sometimes advantageous for industry to find ways to bind their personnel to the company, perhaps in cases of competition when employees are scarce. In Japan, such treatment of the work force is called ‘familism’. In the Netherlands, with or without pressure from government, increasing attention is also being paid to occupational welfare. A fourth model, which is also increasing rapidly, can be called the primary network model. When individuals are not capable of ‘self-care’, as a rule they first fall back on their primary network of partner, family, relatives, friends and neighbours. One can consider, amongst other things, the help of a partner or a family member, for example, in the growing role of the family in childcare, in financial aid for education, care for the elderly, housekeeping, in intergenerational task exchange and the rising contribution of networks of friends in providing all kinds of support. Government and industry have both already created the possibility for maternal/paternal leave, and in the Netherlands, care leave (to care for aging parents) will soon be standard (as is already the case in Sweden). In terms of primary social relationships within individual households and networks of friends, the concept of ‘care work’ is becoming generally accepted for cases involving the redistribution of paid labour and unpaid work in the home. As the fifth model, the efforts of individuals, the social midfield and the market sector are distinguished as the philanthropy model. Where solidarity towards others is concerned, the term ‘citizenship’ has come to the centre of academic and social interest. The citizen no longer simply has rights (Marshall 1963), but is also appealed to in terms of his social obligations. Dekker speaks of the ‘civil society’ (Dekker 1994; 1999). The citizen gives money (in the role of money-giver he is a philanthropist) and/or time (in which case he is a volunteer). In addition, citizens donate considerable sums (in money and/or goods) to social objectives through bequests (Schuyt 1997, 1999, 2001, 2003; Schuyt and Gouwenberg 2005). Society’s midfield includes the philanthropical financial resources and activities of churches, private organizations and foundations. In the market sector in the Netherlands, companies are more and more often seen as ‘corporate citizens’, expected to live up to their responsibilities towards social objectives by way of ‘corporate philanthropy’ and ‘social sponsoring’.

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The new term ‘social entrepreneurship’ has developed to cover the borderline between profit and non-profit circumstances. Social entrepreneurs are defined as ‘individuals or groups who, from a sense of duty as citizens, develop their own initiatives to tackle social problems or realize social goals, without the incentive of either profit or subsidized funding and without passing responsibility on to government’ (De Waal et al. 1994: 4). We are not using the usual term ‘private initiative’ here because it could easily be seen to refer to the specific Dutch situation of subsidized social institutions that are privately managed but financed with public funds. By introducing the term ‘social enterprise’, we emphasize that social entrepreneurs are more closely related to the open market than to (public) structures of subsidized services. In short, social entrepreneurship stands for realizing non-profit objectives through ‘profit’ methods. To summarize, the philanthropy model can be diagrammatically seen in the table below: Table 8.2

The philanthropy model

Individual

The citizen as philanthropist a. giving money: gifts and bequests b. giving time: volunteer work

Midfield

churches funds foundations

Industry

corporate philanthropy corporate citizenship social sponsoring social entrepreneurship

Now that government is in the process of pulling back, we have here concerned ourselves with whether solidarity exists outside government forces. We, ‘in first instance’ confirm that it does. Solidarity, or mutual support, is present in every era and varies from one society to another according to economic development and the nature of social relationships (Mishra 1981). In evolutionary analysis, family and tribal bonds are called on to provide help in primitive societies. In more highly differentiated societies, churches and private organizations also come into the picture,

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alongside family bonds, while in highly developed societies, government programmes play a dominant role (Luhmann 1975). The solidarity of the welfare state has certainly not made the contribution of family, church and private organizations redundant.1 As the welfare state changes, the relationships amongst government, primary social relationships (family, relatives and friends), the social midfield (churches, private organizations and foundations) and the marketplace (industry) take on a different light. New forms of solidarity arise and old forms come back to life. Indeed, we did use the term ‘in the first instance’ when stating that solidarity exists outside government. The development of ‘less government’ on the one hand and ‘more private’ and ‘more midfield’ on the other is very easily associated with an hourglass effect. The reduction of the level of matter in one glass is coupled to the rise of matter in the other. The amount of matter (in this case, security, services and facilities) remains the same. It merely moves to another location. This train of thought correlates with social analysis known in cultural anthropology and sociology as ‘structural functionalism’. Social services are those functions of society that are essential for the continued existence of that society (so-called functional prerequisites), from which it follows that these functions will always be fulfilled (Parsons 1951). The care and security function can be realized by different social contexts: by households, by family, by informal networks of friends, by professional aid organizations, by churches, by government, by industry, etc. When one social context is no longer capable of carrying out the function, others will come into action. Merton has introduced the term ‘functional alternative’ to describe the shift. It is actually preferable to speak of ‘structural alternatives’, because it is not the function that changes, but the structure that fulfils the function (Merton 1968: 106). Functionalism studies societies as though they were biological organisms. In other words, functionalism is based on an organic analogy, ‘the analogy between societies and organisms’ (Rex 1961: 61). In just the same way that a biological organism does, social contexts contribute to the maintenance, adaptation and continued existence of the society. In terms of function shifts, functionalism has found solutions in the theory of structural alternatives and in the concept of ‘substitution’. A variation of this is the 1 ‘Gewiss hat sich die Organisation als dominante Form des helfenden Bedarfsausgleich durchgesetzt. Daneben überleben jedoch archaisch-symbiotische Verhältnisse ebenso wie moralisch generalisierte Formen des Helfens. Freiwillige Leistung und Gegenleistung aus Dankbarkeit sind ebensowenig verschwunden wie gute Taten ...’ (Luhmann 1973: 36)

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possibility that different social contexts will perform complementary tasks to fulfil the single function. Functionalism, in fact, does not in theory recognize the ‘non-function’ possibility, namely the possibility that no social contexts whatever will spring into action if a service is cancelled or revoked. In his criticism of functionalism, Rex states that the function concept has ‘teleological overtones’ (Rex 1961: 66). People presume that the activities of the individual are always at the service of the whole, the overall society. Rex and Mishra do not see the society as an anorganic whole (which is to say without fundamental conflicts of interests between individuals or groups), but as an an-organic whole. They accuse functionalism of glossing over the fact that societies, in contrast to organic or mechanical structures, are made and maintained by groups with conflicting values and interests. The introduction of the terms ‘philanthropy’ and ‘citizenship’ runs the risk that the teleological – the desired objective – can be confused with that which is actually taking place as government services and facilities are reduced, namely that given groups in the society are deprived of those services. References Clasen, J. (ed.) (1999), Comparative Social Policy: Concepts, Theories and Methods (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers). Dekker, P. (1994), Civil Society. Verkenningen van een perspectief op vrijwilligerswerk [Investigations in a Perspective on Volunteering]. (Den Haag: Vuga). Dekker, P. (1999), Vrijwilligerswerk vergeleken [Comparing Volunteer Work]. (Den Haag: Sociaal en Cultureel Planbureau). Doorn, J. van (1978), ‘De verzorgingsmaatschappij in de praktijk’ [The Welfare Society in Practice], in J.A.A. van Doorn and C.J.M. Schuyt, De stagnerende verzorgingsstaat (Boom: Meppel), 17–46. Esping-Anderson, G. (1990), The Three Worlds of Welfare Capitalism (Cambridge: Polity Press). George, V. and Taylor-Gooby, P. (eds) (1996), European Welfare Policy: Squaring the Welfare Circle (London: Macmillan Press). Hill, M. (1993), Understanding Social Policy (Oxford: Blackwell). Hill, M. (1996), Social Policy: A Comparative Analysis (London: Prentice Hall). Krätke, M. (1982), ‘Deze verzorgingsstaat is de onze niet!? Het linkse onbehagen over de verzorgingsstaat in crisis’ [This isn’t our welfare

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state!? The uneasiness of the left concerning the welfare state in crisis]. Komma, 3: 3, 103–126. Leonard, P. (1997), Postmodern Welfare: Reconstructing an Emancipatory Project (London: Sage). Luhmann, N. (1973), ‘Formen des Helfens im Wandel gesellschaftlicher Bedingungen’, in Otto, H.U. and Schneider, S. (eds), Gesellschaftliche Perspektiven der Sozialarbeit (Neuwied/Darmstadt: Luchterhand), 21–43. Marshall, T.H. (1963), ‘Citizenship and Social Class’, in Marshall, T.H. Sociology at the Crossroads (London: Heinemann). Merton, R. (1968), Social Theory and Social Structure (New York, Free Press). Mishra, R. (1981), Society and Social Policy: Theoretical Perspectives on Welfare (London: Macmillan). Mishra, R. (1986), ‘Social analysis and the welfare state: Retrospect and prospect’, in Oyen, E. (ed.), Comparing Welfare States and their Futures (Aldershot/Vermont: Gower), 20–32. Offe, C. (1984), Contradictions of the Welfare State (London: Hutchinson). Osborne, D. and Gaebler, T. (1993), Reinventing Government (New York: Penguin Books). Parsons, T. (1951), The Social System (London: Routledge). Ploeg, T.J. van der, Ru, H.J. de and Sap, J.W. (1995), In plaats van de overheid. Recht scheppen door particuliere organisaties [Instead of government. Creating law by private associations] (Zwolle: Tjeenk Willink). Rex, J. (1961), Key Problems of Sociological Theory (London: Routledge). Schuyt, Th. (ed.) Geven in Nederland (Giving the Netherlands) 1997, 1999, 2001, 2003. (Houten: Bohn Stafleu Van Loghum) Schuyt, Th. and Gouwenberg, B. (ed.) (2005), Geven in Nederland 2005 (Giving the Netherlands) (Den Haag: Elsevier). Swaan, A. de (1998), In Care of the State: Health Care, Education and Welfare in Europe and the USA in the Modern Era (Cambridge: Polity Press). Waal, S.P.M. de, Schuyt, Th.N.M. and Verveen, P.A. (eds) (1994), Maatschappelijk ondernemerschap [Social Entrepreneurship] (Houten: Bohn Stafleu Van Loghum).

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Chapter 9

Needs and Philanthropy 9.1 Introduction In the western industrialized world, philanthropy is (once again) a component of ‘welfare provision’. Private contributions to museums, funding for international help programmes and bequests to medical research are now considered the common property of the recipient non-profit institutions. Limiting our focus to welfare states, we see that philanthropic funds also appear in the goals that form the very heart of the welfare state: health care (for example, hospital sponsorship), education (for example, school sponsorship) and income security (for example, private assistance to the poor or to illegal immigrants, as through churches and foundations). In their large-scale international comparative research on the non-profit sector, researchers at Johns Hopkins University divide the income figures for the non-profit sectors of twenty-two countries into three categories. In the coming decades, non-profit institutions in the Netherlands and Europe will be funded by (a combination of) the following sources: • • •

government funding charges/fees (self-generated market income) philanthropy (voluntary contributions) (Salamon et al. 1999; Burger and Dekker 2001)

There is considerable wealth in western countries, and much of this wealth has or will soon become available. Bequests are one way in which such funds can be released, but it can also occur through the management of wealth (‘estate-planning’) to the benefit of social goals. The generation that became rich after the Second World War will die out in the decades to come. Economists from the Social Welfare Research Institute in Boston have calculated the amount of intergenerational wealth transfer that will occur in the United States within the next fifty years. Their estimates range from a low of 41 trillion dollars to a high of 136 trillion dollars (Havens and Schervish 1999, 2003). They propose that estate donors are wise enough not to leave everything to their children or to the tax authorities; in

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many cases, the children are already wealthy enough, and there are many fiscal and other advantages to choosing ‘worthy causes’. They therefore speak of a ‘Golden Age of Philanthropy’. We recognize philanthropy from the past, often in the form of ‘charity’. The fact that its current value has also been renewed with regard to the funding of ‘public goods’ suggests that philanthropy is a (re)distributional mechanism that merits further investigation. In both the present and the past, philanthropy is directed towards the desires – the needs – of others. These needs have not changed throughout the course of history. It is more accurate to say that they have been extended, for example, from a struggle for basic existence to an effort to acquire an art collection for a museum. This chapter considers two authors, Luhmann and Mishra, whose respective works address questions concerning (re)distributional mechanisms and ‘needs’. Our presentation of their work is guided by the following question: ‘Which theoretical solutions do Luhmann and Mishra use to explain the manner in which the needs of others can be met, and how can their work improve our understanding of philanthropy as a component of welfare provision?’ 9.2 Luhmann In his 1975 article, ‘Formen des Helfens im Wandel gesellschaftlicher Bedingungen’,1 Luhmann does not consider moral or psychological explanations for helping; he considers instead the social conditions under which help can be expected or given, when necessary. Luhmann defines helping as ‘ein Beitrag zur Befriedigung der Bedürfnisse eines anderen Menschen’2 (p. 21). In discussing needs (Bedürfinisse), Luhmann distinguishes the ‘businesslike’ dimension (for example, food, water, money) from the ‘social’ dimensions (for example those who have these needs). By treating these two aspects separately, ‘entsteht das Problem und die Möglichkeit zeitlichen Bedarfsausgleich’3 (p. 23) (translated literally: the levelling of needs over time; this cryptic sentence will be explained later). Luhmann continues: ‘Es ist bei dieser Struktur nicht damit zu

1 2 3

Forms of assistance as determined by social conditions. A contribution to satisfying the needs of another person. The problem and the possibility of balancing needs over time.

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rechnen dass dieselben Bedürfnisse aller zum gleichen Zeitpunkt akut werden’4 (idem). Luhmann sees the problem of helping as related to the problem of ‘des zeitlichen Ausgleichs von Bedürfnisse und Kapazitäten’.5 ‘Was Hilfe jeweils bedeuten kann and welche allgemeinen Konturen sie als moralische Forderung, als gesellschaftliche Institution, als organisierbares Programm oder einfach als spontane Tat gewinnt, hängt davon ab, in welchem Kontext gesellschaftlicher Einrichtungen dieser allgemeine Problem des zeitlichen Bedarfsausgleichs gelöst wird’6 (p. 22). Luhmann analyses societies as social systems, which become more complex through development, which can lead to differentiation. ‘Aus dies Vorüberlegungen folgt, dass auf der Zeitachse sozialer Systeme Koördinationsprobleme ausgetragen werden, deren Wurzeln in der Mehrheit von Personen und in der Verschiedenartigkeit ihrer Bedürfnisse liegen’7 (p. 23). Problems of coordination increase with the development (evolution) of social systems; the complexity of societal systems increases in response to the increasing number of people and needs that must be coordinated. After explaining the theoretical framework, Luhmann applies it to three distinct societal forms in various stages of development: the ‘archaïsche Gesellschaft’ (archaic society), the ‘hochkultivierte Gesellschaft’ (medieval society) and the ‘moderne Gesellschaft’ (modern society). The archaïsche Gesellschaft involves few roles and faces considerable threat from the external environment. The internal system is not very complex. People know each other; the members of groups or tribes come into daily contact with each other. In Luhmann’s terms, there is a smallscale institutionalization of the time factor. Reciprocity is the mechanism that coordinates helping; that which one has and the other needs is visible and directly exchangeable. In this type of societal structure, helping takes 4 With this structure, it is not to be expected that the same needs would all become acute at the same time. 5 The balancing of needs and capacities over time. 6 What help means at any given time and what general contours it acquires as moral demand, as social institution, as organizable programme or simply as spontaneous deed depends on the context of social institutions in which this general problem of balancing needs over time is solved. 7 It follows from these considerations that coordination problems, the roots of which lie in the plurality of persons and in the multiplicity of their needs, are plotted along the time axis of the societal system.

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the form of ‘eine Institutionaliserung reziproker persönlicher Hilfe unter Stammesangehörigen’8 (p. 25). ‘Man findet eine Institutionalisierung von Hilfspflichten bzw. Abgabepflichten und eine Institutionalisierung von Dankespflichten je für sich’9 (p. 26). According to Luhmann, as societal systems become more complex, reciprocity becomes less appropriate; gratitude is not elastic. ‘Man lässt sich in der Not einen Mantel schenken und sieht sich später, Grosskönig geworden, der Forderung auf die Statthalterschaft über eine ganze Insel gegenüber’10 (p. 27). Another problem is that institutionalized transfer requirements based on reciprocal social exchange hinder the formation of capital. ‘Man muss austeilen, Feste veranstalten, unter Umständen seine Mittel verschwenden und erntet damit zwar Prestige, Führungskapazität und Dankbarkeit, nicht aber unbedingt einen rückfliessenden Kapitalzuwachs’11 (p. 27). Only a few archaic societies evolve into the high cultural type. When it does occur, such changes usually result from sharp increases in the division of productive labour in agriculture, business and trade, as well as in the distribution of goods according to class or status. A differentiation of political power results from the tension between the two types of changes, giving rise to individualism. ‘Zur Begründung von Herrschaft, Schichtendifferenzierung und Individualität entstehen generalisierte Normvorstellungen die in einer kosmisch-religiösen Moralität zusammengefasst werden’12 (p. 28). The division of labour combines with status and class differentiation do render direct reciprocity useless as a coordinating mechanism. For this reason, ‘das archaïscheRollenerfordernisderFreigebigkeitwirdzurTugendhochstilisiert’13 (p. 28). Alms appear as a new coordinating mechanism, thus marginalizing

8 An institutionalization of reciprocal personal help between members of the same tribe. 9 It is found that the duty to help, the duty to contribute and the duty to be grateful become institutionalized according to the circumstances of each individual case. 10 One may find it necessary to accept the gift of a cloak in an emergency; later, when one has become king over a whole realm, one may be confronted with the demand to be made ruler over an entire island by way of recompense. 11 One must distribute what one has, hold feasts and in some cases squander one’s funds. While one gains prestige, the right to leadership and gratitude in this way, it is by no means certain that one will be rewarded by a growth in capital. 12 Generalized standards comprised in a cosmic-religious framework arise to support lordship, social stratification and individuality. 13 The archaic role requirement of generosity is highly stylized to virtue.

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both the problems and helping simultaneously. Almsgiving functions as a safety valve for status and class differentiation. According to Luhmann, the satisfaction of needs is synonymous with helping in the archaic type of society; the distinction between the two phenomena arose in the later societal forms – the high cultural and modern societies. They merge once again in the global society. Luhmann also observes this distinction in the development of the traditional professions (for example, doctors, priests). In this type of society, helping and the expectation of help are once again separated from the specific economic and juridical forms of social security. The satisfaction of all needs is negotiated with money, which ‘tritt als abstraktes funktionales Äquivalent an die Stelle von Dankbarkeit. Geld wird zum generalisierten Hilfsmittel’14 (p. 30). The system of almsgiving thus falls into discredit. The rich are no longer under any moral pressure to give money. The new morality once again emphasizes equality, reciprocity and the reversibility of helping and gratitude between private individuals with money. ‘Armut wird nicht mehr als ‘heilige Armut’ als von Gott verordnetes Schicksal, als Gelegenheit zu guten Taten gesehen, sondern als erziehender Faktor und als Arbeitsmotiv’15 (p. 30). For example, this may manifest itself in workhouses and programmes to care for the poor. Luhmann observes that the time factor involved with the levelling of needs changes through the abstraction of money as a coordinating mechanism. In principle, this mechanism is unlimited. The use of money dissolves the mutual commitment between the helper and the one who is helped. Luhmann thus proposes that helping requires a form that is independent of individual decisions: organization. Luhmann distinguishes the modern society as the third stage and societal form, the core principle of which is organization. ‘… der moderne Gesellschaft ... konstituiert eine Umwelt, in die sich organisierte Sozialsysteme bilden können, die sich aufs Helfen spezialisieren’16 (p. 32). Helping comes to consist of personnel and programmes, professionalization (methods) and policy. Professions take control over these helping tasks, motivated in part by prestige and salary. The individualization of problem cases now takes place within the framework of a programme, which either 14 Arises as abstract functional equivalent in the place of gratitude. Money becomes a generalized means of assistance. 15 Poverty is no longer seen as ‘holy poverty’, as one’s God-given fate or as an opportunity to do good but as an educational factor and a motive to engage in work. 16 ‘... modern society ... constitutes an environment in which organized social systems specializing in assistance can develop.

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does or does not recognize a problem. With this observation, Luhmann touches on a key point of programmed professional helping: the aspect of ‘selektive Nichtbeachtung’, selective ignorance. ‘Die allgemeinen Bedingungen der Organisierbarkeit und Programmierbarkeit und weiter all das, was an Organisationen und Programmen schon vorhanden ist, wirken als selektive Faktoren, deren Wirkungsverstärkung zugleich Effekte selektiver Nichtbeachtung mitproduziert… In diesem Rahmen ist die Entscheidung, zu helfen oder nicht zu helfen, nicht Sache des Herzens, der Moral oder der Gegenseitigkeit, sondern eine Frage der methodischen Schulung und der Auslegung des Programms, mit dessen Durchführung man während einer begrenzten Arbeitszeit beschäfigt ist’17 (p. 34). Although organization has become the dominant form of helping in (western) national states, the ‘older’ forms continue to exist. In addition, the global society has emerged. The structural problems of a societal system of this magnitude can no longer in ‘konkrete Kategorien und Verhaltensmuster wie “Helfen” wiedergegeben werden’18 (p. 37). Luhmann concludes his analysis by stating, ‘developmental helping processes that require planned guidance from system developments, for example, for which the political, organizational and scientific foundations are missing. Neither in reciprocity nor in a charitable morality, nor in programmes can we see any ‘weltgesellschaft erforderlicher Bedarfsausgleich rationalisieren’19 (ibid.). Luhmann therefore argues that the old problem of helping must be redefined at the global level as a problem of distribution (ibid.). Luhmann’s analysis of the phenomenon of helping is based on a systems-theoretical approach to societies, which can develop according to certain stages in a process of differentiation. A particular form of helping is associated with each stage of differentiation. The following table summarizes Luhmann’s analysis.

17 The general conditions of organizability and programmability, and all the other factors already associated with organizations and programmes, act as selective factors, the amplified effect of which also helps to produce selective unawareness ... In this context, the decision of whether to help or not is not a matter of the heart, of morals or of mutuality but a question of methodical training and the interpretation of the programme one is employed to implement during a limited working time. 18 Be summarized in concrete categories and patterns of behaviour as ‘helping’. 19 Balancing of needs and capacities on a global level.

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Coordination mechanisms in society Type of society Coordination mechanism Form of helping mechanism of reallocation

Stage of development Little or no Archaic differentiation

reciprocity

mutual helping

Differentiation Medieval

moral demand

almsgiving

Strong Modern differentiation

organization

programme, project

Very strong World differentiation

—

redistribution

The sociological question of the function and social relevance of the helping phenomenon form the core of Luhmann’s analysis. He considers helping to be a contribution to the needs of others and the chosen form as the solution to a social coordination problem (for example, a reallocation problem), of which the ‘Wurzeln in der Mehrheit von Personen und in der Verschiedenartigkeit ihrer Bedürfnisse liegen’20 (p. 23). The second author, Mishra, whose work we will now discuss, takes social policy as the object of study. Like Luhmann, Mishra begins from the concept of needs. 9.3 Mishra In his classic work, ‘Society and social policy’ (last English reprint, 1991), Mishra discusses, analyses and evaluates a number of theories concerning the relationship between society and social policy. How can we explain the fact that the citizens of one country pay for social services while the government is barely active, while in another country, corporations are very active in this area? Which theories can help to explain variations in social policy? Mishra explores theories in an attempt to develop from them a theory that can be used to explain the phenomenon of social policy in discrete social forms. Like Luhmann, Mishra chooses a broad, general definition of his research topic: social policy ‘refers, in a generic sense, to the aims and objectives of social action concerning needs as well as 20 The roots lie in the plurality of persons and in the multiplicity of their needs.

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to the structural patterns or arrangements through which needs are met. Our definition is not restricted to government action and arrangements concerning needs (we use the term social services for this) nor indeed to the context of industrial societies. Perhaps a term such as the institution of welfare or welfare policy expresses our meaning better’ (Mishra 1991: xxx). Mishra lays his cards on the table from the very beginning of his book. Three fundamental convictions form the basis of the book: 1) the importance of theory; 2) the importance of an international, generalized approach; and 3) the implications of the broader social context for social policy. The introduction to the second part of the book explains the last point further. Social institutions must be analysed within the context of the societal order within which they operate, and the most important of these institutions is the ‘mode of production’. In addition, social institutions can be seen as encompassing more than (governmental) social services alone, as corporate regulations (occupational welfare) and tax facilities (fiscal welfare) and similar concepts can also be counted among them. Finally, stratification (societal inequality; the difference between classes) is the most important aspect of the social structure. Mishra argues that the relationship between this stratification and the existence of social institutions calls for further attention (Mishra 1991: 97–98). The first part of Mishra’s book is devoted to the discussion of theoretical explanations for the presence of ‘welfare policies’. He distinguishes five theories: social administration, ‘citizenship approach’, ‘convergence theory’, ‘functionalist theory’ and the Marxist perspective. Mishra begins by describing each theoretical approach, subsequently evaluating their relevance to both the theoretical concept of social policy and actual policy. The following section provides a brief overview of this discussion. ‘Social administration’, the first approach that Mishra addresses, stems from a tradition of social research and social reformism (Charles Booth, Rowntree, the Webbs, Beveridge, and so on). Societal wrongs in England, the Netherlands and other western countries led to initiatives from enlightened liberals and publicity-seeking researchers. from within publicity-seeking circles. According to Mishra, ‘pragmatic’ and ‘utilitarian’ are the keywords for the social administration approach. The facts should be allowed to speak for themselves, and policy should be derived from them. Mishra characterizes social administration as follows: ‘national focus, interventionism, supra disciplinary or field orientation and empiricism’ (p. 9), wondering immediately: ‘What are the implications

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of these for the understanding of welfare as an aspect of society?’ (ibid.). In the Netherlands, these traditions can be recognized in the work of the Social and Cultural Planning Office, which uses reports (for example, the annual Social Cultural Report) and other publications replete with figures and research to present the facts to the Dutch general public and government through such statements as ‘The number of long-term poor has not increased’. Mishra characterizes this approach as follows: ‘Its interest lies not so much in building a knowledge base about social welfare institutions as in understanding the nature and dimensions of a particular social problem – poverty, child abuse, homelessness – with a view to its solution’ (p. 4). This does not (yet) qualify social administration as an academic discipline, however, as it lacks a unique ‘theoretical frame of reference’ and an ‘intellectual commitment’. In Mishra’s words, ‘Social administration has yet to develop a generalising and theoretical approach focused on the society-welfare relationship’ (p. 25). Marshall’s welfare as citizenship is the second approach. This perspective views social policy as the embodiment of the social rights that developed out of civil and political rights. In western industrialized countries, civil rights were established in the eighteenth century, with political rights following in the nineteenth century. The advent of social rights followed in the twentieth century, with social policy as a result. Marshall acknowledged the tension between the ‘equality of citizenship’ and the ‘inequalities of capitalism’, but considered them reconcilable. Civil and political rights offer the opportunity to pit democratic (humanistic) values against ‘market values’, with social rights emerging from the resulting tension and struggle. According to Mishra, Marshall’s analysis offers more theoretical perspectives than that of social administration. Mishra argues, ‘Unlike social administration the citizenship view offers a descriptive (rather than prescriptive) and generalising perspective on welfare, albeit one that is confined to state welfare and its development in Western democratic societies’ (p. 26). Although Mishra criticizes Marshall on a number of points, including the evolutionary and functionalist visions that are embedded in the concept of citizenship, he is positive about the concept’s possibilities. ‘Against the ascendancy of the economic (that is market) principle, citizenship can be invoked in defence of the socio-political notion of equal consideration as a member of the societal community’. ‘The democratic (and hence humanistic) values can thus be turned against the market values – the two

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contradictory structural principles of western capitalist society’(p. 38). In his later work Globalization and the Welfare State, Mishra uses the concept of citizenship to develop the idea of ‘community standards’. ‘The first step in the renewal of the concept of social welfare is to restate its meaning and place in the development of modern industrial societies. We would argue that the “social” dimension identified by Marshall must be seen as a universal category similar to those of the “economic” or “political” in modern society. The economic order is concerned with the efficient production of goods and services and the market is the key institution. The political is concerned with the mechanism of decision-making and the distribution and exercise of power. The democratic polity is the key institution. The social is concerned with the maintenance of community and social solidarity, and universal social provision is the key institution. Thus the “community” emerges as a social category similar the economy and the polity. In other words we need to think in terms of community standards rather than individual rights, for it is the community as a collective that must have some social standards or norms, which entail both rights and obligations. The concept of community… is a contested one… But it can be argued that membership in a national community which entails reciprocity, interdependence and solidarity presupposes basic rather than minimum standards. It is the role of the polity to guarantee or uphold these basic social standards’ (Mishra 2000: 118). The third explanation for the presence of social policy is introduced by convergence theory. Industrialization is the driving force behind – and the central concept of – the development of social policy. If industrialization is to take place, entrepreneurs must have educated, healthy and competent workers; economic development therefore requires at least some degree of social policy (income security, education and health care). In the initial phase of industrialization, the nature of the industrializing elite is still the primary determinant of the nature and scope of social services. The middle class usually develops a residual social policy. Dynastic or traditional groups, such as those in Germany and Japan, follow traditional paternalistic patterns of duties and responsibilities and therefore tend to be more collectively oriented. Institutional models of social policy develop earlier in these countries, in which governments use political guidelines to assume a greater share of the responsibility for social policy. When communists were in charge of industrialization, (for example, Russia since 1917 and China since 1949), the state (the political system) usually became the authority for implementing basic services according to specific

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political values. Mishra refers to such arrangements as the normative model of social policy. Convergence implies that, after a given time, industrializing countries – regardless of whether they have free-market economies or socialist planned economies – come to resemble each other, to converge. Mishra is positive about this approach because of the breadth of its description of social policy; he is positive about the theory’s structural character and about phase theory as well. Nevertheless, he has serious arguments against the deterministic manner of reasoning. ‘By connecting the social structure with industrialism in a general functionalist manner it fails to account for the human and social processes involved in change and development’ (p. 47). Mishra appears to be promoting an actionistic approach to the subject, the group and actor perspective, which allows the expression of societal dynamics. Mishra criticizes the following theory on this point as well. The fourth theory of social policy is functionalism. In this scientific tradition, societies are seen as systems, and social phenomena (for example, social policy and philanthropy) are explained in terms of the functions that they serve for the existence and survival of the societal system. Functionalism (more precisely, structural functionalism) arose from cultural anthropology, in which researchers analysed the societal functions of the customs, rituals and kinship systems of less differentiated societies. Mishra distinguishes between classic functionalism (for example, Durkheim and Comte) and modern functionalism (for example, Parsons, Merton and Smelser). In the terms of Parsons’ classification of the four functional imperatives for every societal system (that is, adaptation, goal attainment, integration and latent pattern maintenance), Mishra classifies the function of social policy under the heading of integration. He then poses the theoretical question of the relationship between the system and welfare. ‘For functionalists the key concept in the analysis of social development is “structural differentiation” (p. 55). Societies develop from having very little differentiation to being strongly differentiated. The structures can become specialized and the four functional tasks remain constant, regardless of the stage of societal development. The definition of social policy is thus both general and generally applicable, but it is also vague. Mishra’s most important objection to functionalism is that the actor perspective is completely eclipsed by the system perspective. ‘In short, social policy development, as indeed other forms of development, is not only about increasing specialisation but also about changes in values and beliefs, in income, status and power of various social groups and in

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the life-chances of individuals. Unfortunately the functionalist cannot catch any of this rich substance of social change in his theoretical net of structural differentiation’ (p. 63). The fifth approach is the Marxist perspective. Although this approach was still current at the time in which Mishra was writing his book, it was almost completely out of use at the time of the last reprint in 1991. Although only a few planned economies remain in the world for which the normative model of social policy can be considered applicable, the chapter nonetheless includes a number of interesting passages. Mishra summarizes the Marxist analysis of the welfare state by Saville in 1957 as follows: ‘Saville’s arguments were primarily aimed at rebutting social-democratic views of the welfare state current in post-war Britain. These may be summarised as follows: that the welfare state is largely a product of the socialist movement, in particular that of social democratic governments… Saville tries to show that neither the origins nor the consequences of the welfare state are particularly socialistic. He sees the development of the welfare state as a result of the interaction of three main factors: the struggle of the working class…; the requirements of industrial capitalism for a more efficient environment in which to operate – in particular the need for a highly productive labour force; and the recognition by the propertied classes of the price that has to be paid for political security; … concern with stability and efficiency has played an important part in the enactment of various social measures…’ What can we learn from the discussion of the five explanations that Mishra presents for the presence of social policy or welfare institutions (only nominally considering the Marxist perspective)? The table below provides a concise summary. Table 9.2

Theoretical perspectives on social policy

Approach Content soc empiricism administration citizenship evolutionary

convergence functionalism Marxism

Domain governmental facilities governmental facilities

Scope nationalistic

industrialized democratic countries deterministic governmental industrialized facilities countries (all) system ideas all welfare all countries forms

Relevance none dynamics group/actor perspective industrial requirements structural equivalents role of the labour movement

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After discussing the theories, Mishra applies the theory to the analysis of social policy in capitalistic societal forms. He chooses a broad research domain: ‘The main types of arrangements through which needs may be met in capitalist society are: 1. social services (income security, health care, education, public housing) 2. fiscal benefits 3. occupational welfare 4. mutual aid 5. charitable or voluntary assistance’ (Mishra 1991: 100) Mishra establishes that, in every country in the world, this arrangement can be found in various constructions. He asks appropriately, ‘What determines this mix and how has it changed in the course of the development of capitalist society?’ Mishra answers this question first by presenting his models of the scope of social services: the residual and institutional models. In the residual model, the scope of the welfare is very limited. For example, recalling Mishra’s definition of the welfare state (‘By welfare state I mean a state which assumes responsibility for citizen welfare in the context of a private market economy and a plural polity’ (Mishra 1986: 31), we can see that the United States has a residual social policy. It is also a welfare state, as there are governmental regulations for needy citizens, limited though they may be, and there is general basic education (see also De Swaan 1988). If social services are offered (or guaranteed) primarily by the government, a country has an institutional model. The models are based upon Marshall’s paradigm of citizenship: they illustrate the extent (of social rights) in which the political system (political rights) intervenes in the market (civil rights). The normative model, in which the political system decommissions the market as a mechanism of allocation or redistribution, is not considered in Mishra’s discussion. He limits his analysis to the first three welfare arrangements: social services, fiscal benefits and occupational welfare. With regard to social provisions, Mishra argues that education is arranged by the government along institutional lines in nearly all capitalistic countries. Health care provisions tend to be extended institutionally as well. Only the United States and Israel have no government programmes (although the United States does have the federal Medicare and Medicaid programmes). Mishra observes considerable variation with regard to income security, and he finds hardly any evidence of an institutional approach to housing.

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He concludes that western industrialized countries organize welfare along primarily institutional lines, although the level varies sharply. ‘The widely varying levels of public provision raise the question of the relationship between state welfare and other forms of provision … occupational welfare acts as an alternative to the social services (for example, medical insurance in the United States, family allowances in Japan)’ (Mishra 1991: 104 – 105). ‘It is quite clear however that occupational welfare cannot be considered as a “functional equivalent” of the social services. The crucial difference is that unlike the social services, occupational welfare is essentially a part of the reward structure of the enterprise’ (p. 106–107). ‘Finally, it must be remembered that occupational welfare is not peculiar to the private sector. The most ancient and venerable form of occupational provision in fact belongs to the state as an employer. In many European countries, including Britain, the civil servants were the first group of civilian employees to receive pensions’ (p. 108). Tax advantages, which are also known as fiscal welfare or the ‘hidden welfare state’, comprise a third form of ‘welfare arrangements’. The tax benefits seem to constitute an “invisible” welfare state largely for the upper and middle class’ (p. 109). Mishra concludes that ‘social services, fiscal benefits and occupational welfare may be said to constitute the three main elements in the structure of welfare in advanced capitalist society’. Mishra then proceeds to address the development of social policy, again focusing on the three most important arguments. ‘In the broadest sense the explanation has to be functionalist. The interaction of industrialism, capitalism and labour movement, has made a degree of state intervention almost inevitable’ (p. 110). Mishra discusses each of these factors. Industrialization set a process of urbanization in motion, through which rural households established themselves in the larger cities, usually under miserable circumstances. Working members of the family were exposed to hazardous conditions and the threat of dismissal in the factories. ‘Education is vital for the economic (necessary skills) and political (socialisation and social control) order of industrial societies. … It is in the case of education above all that the functionalist equation between the industrial society and the state welfare is most evident. Thus nearly a hundred years before the New Deal that bastion of laissez faire, the United States, had begun providing elementary schooling under public auspices’ (p. 111). The second factor, capitalistic development, partially determines the development of a certain level of social policy. The imperfections of a global free market and increasing interdependence force governments

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– particularly in times of crisis – to guarantee certain forms of income security, even if only from the (economic) standpoint of maintaining a domestic market (Keynes). The New Deal is one example. ‘In conditions of advanced capitalism, therefore, the economic and political consequences of laissez-faire assumed disastrous proportions’ (p. 111), at least to a defined maximum, as excessive social expenditures (and the associated tax pressure) lead to the flight of capital. In many respects, the labour movement (the third explanatory factor) is associated with the development of government provisions. The first connection arose as the ruling classes felt threatened by the growing labour movement. This led to reformist politics, as in Bismarck’s Germany. Second, the ruling classes saw social policy ‘as an antidote to socialism, as something that would help to ‘spike the socialist guns’ (p. 113). Third, the labour movement itself forced social legislation to improve the living conditions of the working class. The interaction, the correlations among these three factors led to the reduction of laissez-faire and to the increase of government services. Nevertheless, there are many differences in the arrangement of these services. According to Mishra, these differences can be attributed to differences in social and economic background, and ‘of particular importance has been the nature of the leading social class’ (p. 114). When industrialization is introduced by the middle classes of free entrepreneurs, social policy is usually of a residual nature. When industrialization was led by traditional groups, as in Germany, Austria, Tsarist Russia or Japan, there is more likely to be a ‘proto-institutional form of social policy’ (p. 114). Mishra concludes that early capitalism cannot be equated with laissez-faire, nor can the dynamics within the labour movement be used to explain the differences in the types of social policy. ‘As with the ruling class, the presence of a large, organized working class does not ipso facto guarantee a high level of state welfare, for, apart from other things, if the working class is late in developing, as in the United States, the field of welfare would be pre-empted by non-statutory organizations of various kinds….in Britain, the residual social policy of the nineteenth century encouraged the growth of friendly societies which became one of the strongest vested interests opposed to social insurance’(p. 118). Finally, Mishra addresses the consequences of social policy. He begins by discussing the misconception that governmental social services are egalitarian. ‘The belief that social services are egalitarian in their consequences rests largely on the assumption that they are paid for by the well-off (the few) and utilised by the less well-off (the many). In

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this way they are supposed to redistribute income from higher to lower income groups’ (p. 120). The power of the welfare state, rather, rests not in the reduction of social differences: lower-income groups benefit; the middle groups benefit even more, and the higher-income groups benefit the most. Absolute poverty decreases, but relative poverty remains or even increases. The ‘…increased allocation of national income to the social services does not necessarily result in greater redistribution of incomes. In short, the public as distinct from private (market) form of distribution is not necessarily egalitarian’ (p. 123). Mishra then speculates about the actual consequence of social policy. The power of the welfare state is that, under the guise of redistribution, it does not actually redistribute, but it does guarantee a high degree of social rest. ‘Very briefly, in so far as the development of the welfare state involves the intervention of the polity in the economy, the determination of the class situation of the workers by market forces alone (dramatised by Marx and analytically refined by Weber) no longer corresponds with reality’ (p. 123). With this statement, Mishra emphasizes his affinity for the ideas of Marshall. Mishra refers to the effect of this political intervention in the market as the ‘moral economy’: ‘social rights create a sense of “belonging”: they have little to do with the abolition of class inequality… The sociological significance of this humanisation has not been grasped adequately’ (Mishra, p. 125– 126). The importance of welfare states thus lies in their societal integrative ability, in the sense that they offer social security to all inhabitants – a home for everyone. 9.4 Societal Context and Variation We now conclude our summary of Luhmann and Mishra and turn to the questions that were posed at the beginning of this chapter. Both of these authors emphasize the association between various forms of social arrangements and societal contexts. Both seek theories that can provide insight into this association. For Luhmann, the dominant theory is social systems theory. Mishra chooses Marshall’s dynamic citizenship approach, although he elaborates this theory with a group and actor perspective. Both authors also emphasize the presence of multiple forms of social arrangements whose form depends upon the level of societal differentiation (Luhmann) or the correlation between industrialization, capitalistic development and the labour movement (Mishra).

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A number of aspects of the societal context are missing from Mishra’s analysis, however; the nature of the economy (i.e., the mode of production) is limited to that of an industrializing factory economy. His theoretical framework can capture neither an agrarian economy nor a mixed form of industrial and agrarian economy. His analysis concerns the western industrializing countries from the nineteenth century onwards. In this respect, Luhmann’s analysis has more to offer, as he begins with the ‘archaic society’. A second shortcoming of Mishra’s analysis lies in the structural realization of the group and actor perspective that he proposes. He shows how the structure of a society affects the nature of industrial development while giving rise to differentiation within groups that have led to contradictions and incongruities, as in the English ‘friendly societies’ of workers who were opposed to the introduction of the welfare state. Aspects of culture, political ideas and movements, religion and philosophies play no important role in his analysis. To understand the social policy of Ireland, it is impossible to overlook the influence of the Roman Catholic world-view and the agrarian economy. Spanish social policy and the role of the labour movement cannot be understood without knowledge of the corporatist state views from the Franco Era. What do these two authors contribute to our understanding of philanthropy as a component of social policy? Luhmann explicitly places philanthropy within the hochkultivierte Gesellschaft, later stating that all forms of Helfen have continued to exist. Although Mishra does mention ‘charitable or voluntary assistance’, he limits his analysis to ‘social services’, ‘fiscal benefits’ and ‘occupational welfare’. The value of Mishra’s analysis lies in his attempt to use a dynamic structural approach to explain the variation in forms of social policy. The researchers in the Johns Hopkins University international study of the non-profit sector have similarly wrestled with the problem of explaining the nature and scope of the non-profit sectors of twenty-two countries (Salamon 1999; Salamon et al. 2001). The research covers nine West-European countries, four countries from Middle and Eastern Europe, four other developed countries and five Latin-American countries. Among other conclusions, the researchers report that the non-profit sector is an important economic factor. Second, they conclude that the scope of the non-profit sector varies greatly across countries and regions. Third, they state that employment in the non-profit sector is dominated by the generalinterest goals of education (30%), health care (20%) and welfare (18%). A

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fourth conclusion is that 49 per cent of the income from the non-profit sector is comprised of self-generated income, with another 40 per cent coming from general funds and 11per cent from philanthropic contributions (gifts) (Salamon et al. 2001: 252–254). The researchers present three theories to explain this variation, as they are ‘oriented towards the large-scale and widespread presence of non-profit institutions, and because they appear to be at least potentially testable’ (p. 255). The first theory is the ‘heterogeneity theory’ or ‘market failure/ government failure theory’ of Weisbrod, who explains the presence of non-profits as the result of the public dissatisfaction with the fact that both the market and the state have failed to meet the demand for collective goods. The second theory is ‘interdependence theory’, which begins from the assumption that both the state and non-profits have advantages and disadvantages with regard to the provision of collective goods. They are thus dependent upon each other, and governments therefore support non-profits financially. The third theory is ‘social origins theory’, which highlights the importance of existing institutional patterns that have resulted from historical developments. Salamon and his research colleagues base their analyses on the work of Barrington-Moore and Esping-Andersen. ‘The rationale turns on the notion that such complex social phenomena as the rise of the welfare state or of democracy cannot be considered as resulting simply from the expansion of a single factor (for example, industrialization or heterogeneity), but that much more complex internal relationships between social classes and social institutions must play a role in the explanation’ (p. 260). The central societal powers in ‘social origins theory’ are nearly identical to those used by Mishra, with one exception: the introduction of ‘social political institutions’, which include the state, religion and external actors (for example, colonial factors) – as separate actors. In this chapter, we have treated philanthropy as a component of social policy, according to its definition as ‘voluntary private money for the general good’. This concerns not governmental social policy, but social policy that operates outside of the government. Within welfare states, it is nearly forgotten that philanthropy, in addition to the market, is among the new financial resources. The welfare state is the result of the intervention of the political system into societal and economic relationships by means of the democratic parliamentary system. Everything is so oriented towards the government that it is easy to forget that there is more to democracy

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than just political, parliamentary democracy. Effort in the ‘general interest’ can also involve many forms of either direct or social democracy. References Havens, J.J. and Schervish, P.G. (1999), Millionaires and the Millennium: New Estimates of the Forthcoming Wealth Transfer and the Prospects for a Golden Age of Philanthropy. Paper. (Boston: Social Welfare Research Institute Boston College). Havens, J.J. and Schervish, P.G. (2003), ‘Why the $41 trillion Wealth Transfer Estimate is Still Valid: A Review of Challenges and Questions’, Journal of Gift Planning 7:1, 11–15, 47–50. Luhmann, N. (1975), ‘Formen des Helfens im Wandel gesellschaftlicher Bedingungen’, in Otto, H.U. and Schneider, S. Gesellschaftliche Perspectiven der Sozialarbeit (Neuwied and Darmstadt: Luchterhand), 21–43. Mishra, R. (1977, 1980), (with an introductory chapter by G.J.F. Leene) Wat heet welzijn? Sociaal-wetenschappelijke visies op samenleving en sociaal beleid (Alphen a/d Rijn: Samsom). Mishra, R. (1981, 1991), Society and Social Policy: Theories and Practice of Welfare (London: Macmillan). Mishra, R. (1986), Social analysis and the welfare state: Retrospect and prospect’, in E. Oyen (ed.), Comparing Welfare States and their Futures (Aldershot/Vermont: Gower), 20–32. Mishra, R. (1999), Globalization and the Welfare State (Cheltenham: Edward Elgar Publishing Limited). Salamon, L.M. et al. (1999), Global Civil Society: Dimensions of the Nonprofit Sector (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University). Salamon, L.M. et al. (2001), ‘Sociale oorsprongen van de non-profitsector: een landenvergelijking’, in Burger, A. and Dekker, P. (eds), Noch markt, noch staat: de Nederlandse non-profitsector in vergelijkend perspectief (Den Haag: Sociaal en Cultureel Planbureau), 251–270.

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Index absolute contrasts Simmel on 43 and social intervention 43 Alinsky, Saul D. 33, 34, 36, 57 almsgiving, in high cultural societies 105, 107 alter, and ego 47 altruism as career 60 and corporate philanthropy 63 pathological 58–9 Amsterdam, school of social work 83 andragology 1 arbitrator 14 asymmetry 51 avoidance strategies 66–8 gift giving 67 intimacy 67 proto-professionalizing 67 in helping relationships 65–8 principle 3 and professional attitude 68 in professions 66, 82 reduction of 51 social intervention 51, 68 and the third element 26, 51 see also symmetry autonomy family therapy 29, 30 helping 30 third element 28–30 Badcock, C.R., The Problem of Altruism 59

Beattie, J., Other Cultures 75 Bertelsmann Stiftung 4 Beveridge, William 108 Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation 4 Bloom, M. 9 Boissevain, J., on the broker 15–16, 27 British Journal of Social Work 1 broker 18 Boissevain on 15–16, 27 characteristics 15 definition 15 power 16 see also third element casework, social work 84 change agent, consultant as 73–4 and community development 34 and contracts 36 and magic 3 and social intervention 21, 73, 82 and the third element 23–4 Charity Organization Society 4 citizenship approach Marshall’s 109, 110, 113, 116 welfare policies 108, 109–10, 112 civil rights and helping 44 movement (US) 84 client career 53–4 passiveness 56 power 52–3 social worker, relationship 42

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Coggins, Ross, ‘The Development Set’, poem 61 community concept 110 standards 110 workers, professionalization 84 community development and change 34 by contract 33–5 episodic nature of 42 projects 84 Spigt on 33–4 see also community work; Helmond development project community work academic interest in 84 definition 84 downward option 87 history of 83–5 independent option 87 marketization 87 and protest movements 85 social work, relationship 87–8 state-subsidized 85 as third element 85–8 in twenty-first century 86–8 upward option 87 voluntary private bodies 87 see also community development consultancy, rituals 76–9 incorporation 79 separation 77–8 transition/change 78–9 consultant as change agent 73–4 as shaman 73, 74 see also stranger contract approach aspects 37 principles 38

behaviour types 39 and change 36 community development by 33–5 content 35 as declaration of intent 36 dynamics in 36 Egan on 36–7 in family therapy 38 function, Spigt on 34 groups, visibility 37 Helmond development project 35, 36 high/low powered 37 intervention types 39 Lange and van der Hart on 38–9 as legal agreement 36 revision 37 social intervention 33 triadic 39–40 specific/ambiguous 37 standardization 37 therapeutic work by 36–9 types 36 convergence theory, welfare policies 108, 110–11, 112 corporate foundations examples 4 philanthropy 62–3 altruism 63 and poverty relief 4–5 see also philanthropy cultural anthropology 3, 15, 73, 74 development aid Hancock on 60–1 paternalism 42–3 poem about 61 ‘divide and conquer’ strategy 15 doing good, and doing right 44 dyads, Simmel on 13, 14 dynamics

Index in contracts 36 creation by adding/removing 24, 25 by regulating distance 24–6 and the third element 24–6 dynamization, principle 3 Egan, G., on contracts 36–7 ego, and alter 47 employer, employee, relations 47–8 expertise, third element 26–7, 81 familism, Japan 95 family therapy autonomy 29, 30 contracts in 38 problems in 22 techniques 22 fiscal welfare 114 Ford Foundation 4 origin 62 French Revolution, principles 5 Freud, Anna 59 functionalism 97–8 teleology 98 welfare policies 108, 111–12 Hancock, G. on development aid 60–1 Lords of Poverty 60 Helmond development project 22–3, 34–5, 42 contract 35, 36 social debutants 35 social distance 24–5 help seekers gift giving 67 symmetrical strategies 66–7 helper and client independence 42 as leader 29

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motivations 57–65 civilizing impulse 65 contamination, fear of 64–5 fear/helplessness 57–9, 64 forward panic 64 philanthropy 62–3 self-interest 59–63 social control 64–5 and poverty 61 social distance 21 suspect 57–65 Maeder on 58 symmetric strategies 67–8 syndrome, Schmidbauer on 58–9 as third element 13–14 see also third element helping in archaic societies 103–4, 107 autonomy 30 and care 4 and civil rights 44 definition 11, 46, 47, 102 drawbacks of 66–7 Luhmann on 102–7 in modern societies 106, 107 and noblesse oblige 63 relationship abuses 52–7 asymmetry 65–8 and power 46–7, 68 Savornin Lohman on 43–4 theory of, van den Berg’s 45–8 as therapy 59 see also development aid; reciprocity; social intervention Hill, Octavia 4 human actions, coordination 44–5 illness, proof of 54–5 industrial revolution, and poverty 12, 83 injustice collector 54

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intermediaries conditions for 85–6 qualities needed 86 see also broker; third element Japan, familism 95 Lange, A., and O. van der Hart, on contracts 38–9 legitimacy, social intervention 33 linking, and social distance 85–6 Luhmann, N. on helping 102–7 on needs 102–3 Maeder, Thomas, on suspect helpers 58 magic and change 3 principle 3 purpose 75 and social intervention 73 see also shaman magician, the stranger as 76–80, 82 Mann, Thomas, The Magic Mountain 54 marketization, community work 87 Marshall, T.H., citizenship approach 109, 110, 113, 116 Marxism, welfare policies 108, 112 mediator 14 Medicare/Medicaid programmes, US 113 Mishra, R. Globalization and the Welfare State 110 on societies and social policy 107–16, 117 needs Luhmann on 102–3

and philanthropy 102 ways of meeting 113 Netherlands Social Cultural Report 109 welfare state 1, 94, 95 Neue Praxis 1 New Deal, US 114, 115 noblesse oblige, and helping 63 non-person, third element as 28 non-profit sector employment in 117 funding sources 101, 118 Johns Hopkins study 101, 117–18 occupational welfare 113 social services, comparison 114 Palazzoli, M.S. 3 patrons 15 personal relationships, problems 11– 12 dealing with 12 philanthropists 7 philanthropy 101–2, 117 corporate, and altruism 63 model, welfare state 94, 95–6 and needs 102 and prosperity 4–5 public goals, contribution 6 purposes 102 as (re)distributive means 102 welfare state, contribution to 6, 101, 118 see also corporate foundations; non-profit sector poverty and helpers 61 humanitarian concerns 13 and the industrial revolution 12, 83 local authorities 12

Index philanthropic foundations 4–5 and social order 12 social reformers 4 workers’ collective action 13 power definition 46, 47 and helping relationship 46–7, 68 strategy 56–7 problem(s) definition 22 in family therapy 22 problem solving assumption of power 17 ending relationship 16 expertise 19 model 12 negotiation 17 social intervention model 18 strategies 13, 16–18 using the third element 17–18 professions, asymmetry in 66, 81 protest movements, and community work 85 reciprocity 105, 106, 110 archaic societies 103–4, 107 see also helping Richmond, M., Social Diagnosis 83 rites of passage 75–6 examples 76 see also rituals rituals in consultancy 76–9 definition 74 dramatic structure 75 incorporation 76 magic, elements 76 purpose 74–5 separation 76 and social values 75 transition 76

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see also rites of passage Rockefeller Foundation 4 Rowntree, Joseph 4, 108 Saville, J. 112 Savornin Lohman, J. de, on helping 43–4 Schmidbauer, W., on helper syndrome 58–9 shaman consultant as 73, 74 social intervention by 79–80 sick role, advantages 53 Simmel, Georg 2, 3 on absolute contrasts 43 on dyads 13, 14 on the stranger 9–10, 23 on the third element 14, 23 on the triad 2, 13–14, 41–3 Social Cultural Report, Netherlands 109 social debutants, Helmond development project 35 social distance adding/removing 24, 25 Helmond development project 24–5 helper 21 and linking 85–6 managing 23–6 principle 3, 18–19 reducing/increasing 25 regulation 24–5 by stranger 81 third element 2, 23–4, 27, 28, 81 social entrepreneurship 96 social intervention and absolute contrasts 43 asymmetry 51, 68 and change 21, 73, 82 contract agreements 33 definition 4, 11

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examples 11–12 legitimacy 33 and magic 73 Netherlands 2 see also Helmond development project paradox 9 principles 3 problem solving 18 purpose 41–2 scope 1–2 shaman 79–80 the stranger in 10 temporality 42 third element 21, 81 triadic 16–19, 23–30, 39–40 van den Berg on 48–9 see also helping social order, and poverty 12 social policy consequences 115–16 definition 107–8 and socialism 115 and societies, Mishra on 108–16 social problems, as individual problems 83 social security emergence 5 provision family 5 government 5, 6 market fees 5 mixed 5 see also welfare state Social Service Review 1 social services models institutional 113 normative 113 residual 113

occupational welfare, comparison 114 structural alternatives 97 social systems, societies as 103 Social Welfare Research Institute 101 social work casework 84 community work, relationship 87– 8 school of, Amsterdam 83 and women’s emancipation 60 social workers client, relationship 42 professionalization 83 socialism, and social policy 115 societies archaic 103 evolution, to high cultural society 104–5 helping 103–4, 107 reciprocity 103–4, 107 development stages 103 high cultural, almsgiving 103 modern 103 helping programmes 106, 107 organization 105–6 and social policy, Mishra on 108– 16, 117 as social systems 103 Spigt, K. on community development 33–4 on contract function 34 the stranger abstract relations 10 confidant 10 as magician 76–80, 82 mobility 10 objectivity 10 prototypical 10 Simmel on 9–10, 23 social distance, regulation 81

Index in social intervention 10 sociological characteristics 10 unconventionality 10 see also consultant; third element symbols, purpose 74 symmetry help seeker strategies 66–7 helper strategies 67–8 see also asymmetry teleology, functionalism 98 tertius gaudens see third element, laughing therapy by contract 36–9 client dependency 56 nature of 22 see also family therapy third element (third party) adding 24 and asymmetry 26, 51 autonomy 28–30 relinquishment 29 and change 2, 23–4 community work as 85–8 dynamics 24–6 expertise 26–7, 81 helper as 13–14 identification vs solidarity 28–9 laughing (tertius gaudens) 14–15, 27 as non-person 28 objectivity 27 position/roles 28 in problem solving 17–18 relationships 24, 86 significance 2 Simmel on 14, 23 social distance 2, 27, 28 social intervention 21, 81 types 14

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values 41–9 see also broker; stranger triad formation 23 function 41 Simmel on 2, 13–14, 41–3 see also third element (third party) US Medicare/Medicaid programmes 113 New Deal 114, 115 wealth transfer, intergenerational 101 values social, and rituals 75 third element 41–9 van den Berg, Henk 6 on social intervention 48–9 theory of helping 45–8 van der Hart see Lange, O. van Gennep, A., Rites of Passage 76 Warren, R. 3, 42 Webb, Sidney and Beatrice 4, 108 welfare policies, theories 108–13 application 113–16 citizenship approach 108, 109–10, 112 convergence theory 108, 110–11, 112 functionalism 108, 111–12 Marxist 108, 112 social administration approach 108–9, 112 see also fiscal welfare; occupational welfare welfare state cheating 55–6 definition 113

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The Power of the Stranger Europe 5 hidden 94 models 93–8 government 94, 96–7 insurance 94 occupational welfare 94–5 philanthropy 94, 95–6 primary network 94 Netherlands 1, 94, 95, 109

philanthropy, contribution of 6, 101, 118 reconstruction 91–3 see also social security women emancipation, and social work 60 in labour market 83 working class, movements 13