Twenty Lectures: Sociological Theory Since World War II

TWENTY LECTURES

SOCIOLOGICAL THEORY SINCE WORLD WAR II

JEFFREY

C. ALEXANDER

COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS NEW YORK

Library of

Conve•• Catalogiag·in-PubJication Data Alexander,

Twenty

Jeffrey

lectures.

Includes

C.

index.

1. Sociology-Methodology. I. Title. II. Title:

Sociological theory since World War II. 86-17106 301'.09 1986 ISBN 0-23 I -06210-9 ISBN 0-231-0621 I-7 (pbk.)

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Columbia University Pre ss New Yorfc Copyright © 1987 Columbia University Press All

rights

reserved

Printed in the United States of America

To the memm�-v

of Felix

Bloch

CONTEi\TS

Preface and A.cknowledgments LECTURE

I.

LECTURE 2.

lX

1

What is Theory? Parsons· First Synthesis

22 36

LECTURE

3.

Structural-Functionalism

LECTURE

4.

Structural-Functionalism in Its .\1iddle Phase

52

LECTL'RE

5.

The Theory of Successful Modernity

73

LECTURE

6.

Parsons' Later Theory

89

LECTURE

7.

The Revolt Against the Parsonian

LECTURE

8.

Conflict Theory (I): John Rex's

LECTURE

9.

Conflict

LECTURE 10.

Synthesis Strategy

Theory (2): Rex

Homans' Insights

( 1):

ll.

Exchange Theory (2): Homans and the Individualist Dilemma

LECTURE

12.

Symbolic Interactionism (I):

Pragmatism and the Legacy of George Herbert Mead

13.

140

George

LECTURE

LECTURE

127

and the

Problem of Coercion Exchange Theory

Ill

156 172

195

Symbolic lnteractionism (2): Individualism and the Work of

Blumer and Goffman

215

Contents

vm

14.

EthnomethodoJogy (1): The Legacy of

LECTURE

15.

Ethnomethodology (2): Harold

LECTURE

16.

Cultural Sociology

17.

Cultural Sociology (2): Clifford

LECTURE

LECTURE

Edmund Husser1

Garfinkel's Rebellion agai ns t Norms

( 1) :

LECTURE

Geertz's Rebellion Against

18.

Marxism ( 1 ) : The Legacy and the

19.

Marxism (2): The Critical Theory of

LECTURE 20.

257

The

Hermeneutic Challenge

Determinism

LECTURE

238

Revival

281

302 330

Herbert Marcuse

349

Sociological Theory Today

374

Index

381

PREFACE AND ACK�O\'\lLEDGMENTS

In one sense these lectures take off from where my last bo o k

Theoretical

Logic in

,

Sociology, left off. Whereas in t h at earlier work

the theoretical scheme I de,•eloped was app l i ed to theoretical so­ ciology from the classics up through Talco tt Parsons, in the present work I u se the "logic" to in terpret sociological theory right up to the present day.

In another sense, however, these lectu res represent new theo­

ret i ca l development. In that ear l i er work I left the individual approac h to order as s o m e t h i ng of a black box, concen trating

main l y on coJiectivist approaches i n their rationalist, normative, and multi dimensi onal form. 'While investigating the full panoply of ass u m pti ons

about action, in order words, I limited myself to only one of the two major appr o ac h es to the problem of order. Whether that se l f i m p o s ed limitation was r ig ht o r not will not be argued here. Suffice it to say that the reasons for that choice were made expl ic i t at the time, and that the length of that earlier work proved unwiel dly as it was. In th e present wo rk, by contrast, I explo re the individualist app roac h to order at great length. There are minor diffe rences of emphasis in the present work as well. For exam p l e I am here more interested in exploring the social and i d e o l o g ica l dimension of t h e o re t i ca l development than I was in -

,

Theoretical Logic.

Though reworked many ti mes over, this book really did begin as a series of lectures to undergradu ates at UCLA. I would like to record my thanks here to those undergraduates for t h e ir sharp and stimulating questions, which often pointed me in new directions.

I would also like to thank the graduate students who audited the

c ou rs e , especially Geoffrey Gilbert-Hammerling, whose critical and

perce p t ive remarks hel ped me to get a clearer sense of the pr oj ect as a whole .

X

Preface

and

Acknawledgments

In many ways this book is a product of my eight years in residence at UCLA and of the peculiar, highly stimulating intellectual mix of its sociology department. My colleagues here have forced me to come to terms with microsociology in a way I had never thought necessary before. In this regard I would like to note especially the friendly provocations of Emmanuel Schegloff, Harold Garfinkel, Melvin Pollner, and Jack Katz. Science, of course, is never a purely local affair, and I h ave been fortunate in having the assistance of many scholars both here and abroad. B erna rd Barber closely read the early chapters of this book and gave me sound advice. Steven Seidman has been an important sou ndi ng board and wise critic throu_ghout. Richard Munch read large parts of the manuscript and gave me his thoughtful response. Nicholas Dirks and Ron Ey erman cha lle n ged and instructed me about different aspects of co ntemporary theorizing. Nan cy Cho­ dorow and Lewis Coser made some spe c i fic and impo r tant sug­ gestions. Needless to say, I hold none of these thinkers, nor my col league s here at UCLA, responsible for the interpretations set forth in what follows. My wife, Ruth Bloch, provided the final and closest reading of these lectures. Her probing criticism l gra teful l y accepted . I have a vivid memory of my first e n c ounter with Raymond Aron's lectures on sociological theory. translated as Main CurrentJ in Sociological Thought. It was the summer of l 971 in Palo Alto, Ca li forn ia, and I was reading in the late afternoon sun in the backyard of my wife's parents' home. Aron's ideas were clear and compelling, and it seemed to me that the i ntim a cy of his lectures allowed them to be communicated in a p ar ti cularly effective way. Imitation is the highest form of flattery. The present lectures are an earnest homage to the memory of t hat great Frenchman. I would like to dedicate these lectures, however, to the living memory of a nother great man who died in the same year-to Felix Bloch, in whose house l first read Aron's lectures and from whose asso­ ciation and friendship I gained so much. Los Angeles

TWE�TY LECTURES: SOCIOLOGICAL THEORY SINCE WORLD WAR II

LECTURE ONE

WHAT IS THEORY?

OR

F

PEOPLE i n tere s ted in the real world-and th at

,

I

take it, is why most of you are here-a course of lectures on sociological theory might seem a bit off the point. So­ ciology, of c ou r se is fine. It's about society, and that's why you are h e re But "theory"? That sounds too much like philosophy, like ideas for th eir own sake. Studying theory soun ds like it might be as dry as dust. l want to suggest to you, however, that a course about t heory ,

.

is not really as dry and abstract as you might think. True, theories

are things that abstract from the particulars of a particular time

and place. So we must often talk quite ab st r a ctly when we consider

them. But there is an i m porta nt thing that counteracts this ab­ stracting urge. T heories we must never forget, are written by people. So in studying theories we are looking not at free-floating abstractions but at things people do. To get to know theories, then, ,

we must get to know a bit about the people who wrote them­ when they lived, how they lived, where they worked, and, most importa n t of all, how they thought. We have to know t h ese things becau s e we will always be trying to figure out why they said what they said, why they did not say something else, and often why th ey changed their minds. Most of the time I will try finding answers to these questions inside the theories themselves, but I will try never to forget that behind these theoretical texts are the people and t heir minds. Moreover, these lectures are not just abo ut any old sociological theory, but about theor y in the present day. One of the attractive things 'about a course on contemporary theor y is, indeed, that we get to talk about our own time. We talk about contemporary life, first of all, because it has" had such a grea t effect on contemporary

2

\Vhat Is Theory?

theory. In the course of my lectures, I will suggest, for example, that the Great Depression of the 1930s and the world war that followed it decisively affected sociological theory in the contem­ porary period. The utopian hopes for social reconstruction in the postwar world were vital in shaping the nature of the th eory which first emerged. As the 1950s turned into the 1960s, these hopes were dashed. The anger and disappointment which followed played a major role in subsequent theoretical work, for it stimulated new theories which challeng ed those which were dominant in the pe riod of postwar consensus. I will be talking about contemporary society, however, not just because it has affected the course of contemporary theory but also because it is this contemporary society, after all, that contemporary theory is at least partly about. There is a lot about theory that is timeless, that generalizes from particulars to establish "laws" or "models" which are intended to hold good for all time. But precisely because those who create these theories are affected by their times, their theories can be read as directed toward them in turn. In discussing these th e or i es, I will move continually from theoretical abstractions to the empirically concrete, to the American society you know today, to the conflicts which threaten and inspire us, to the mundane realities of our everyday lives. If my lectures do not get you thinking about empirical things-about everything from the sublime to the ridiculous-in new and intriguing ways, then I have certainly failed. Before we can get into the "sociological" side of sociological theory, however, we must obviously enter the world of "theory" itself. At least one lecture is going to have to be pretty dry and abstract, and it is only natural that it be the first one. To b egin a course you must get first things first. The first thing in a course about theory is, of course, what is theory ? I will begin with a simple definition. Theory is a generalization separated from particulars, an abstraction separated from a concrete case. Let me gi ve some examples of this process of abstraction. Economic actors are con­ crete particulars. For example, the president of Chrysler, th e au­ tomobile company, is a specific person, Lee Iacoca. If we wanted to describe what Lee lacoca does at the Chrysler Corporation, we would not be doing theory. On the other hand, the "presidents

H-'hat Is Theorv?

3

of automobile companies" are a class of people. �ow we are ab­ stracting from a concrete case. If ,.,,e want to think about what

"presidents" of auto companies do, we would have to generalize from particular individuals; we would be making up theories of administrative behavior in automobile companies. If we wanted to

study "presidents of American corporations," we would have still another level of abstra ction. Let's take another example closer to home. If we look at a child interacting with his or her parents,

we would be studying a concrete case. If we wanted to lo ok a t

many cases of children interacting with many parents, we would

be generalizing away from concret e cases and making theories about child/parent intera ction. ·we would be making theories about so­ cia lization. In this course, however, I am interested not just in theory but in general theory. Sociology is replete with special theories, for example theories about stratification,

socialization, politics, and

administration. You can study these in other, more specialized courses. What genf'ral theories do is take these specia l theories and

bring them together. General theories are theories about every­

thing, about "societies" as such, about modernity rather than about

any particular modern society, about "interaction" rather than about any particular form or genre of interaction. There are special

theories about economic classes in society, abom the middle class,

the working class, and the upper class. But a general class theory, for example

Marxian theory, combines all the!>e special theories

about classes into a single theory about economic development and class relations as such. Now that I have defined very provisionally what theory is, let me talk

a little about its significance. There is much debate today

about the role of theory in science and pa rticularly in social science.

The position I take here, which will inform this entire course of lectures, is that theory is crucial,

indeed that it is the heart of

science. Although theories are always involved with and relate closely to factual "rea lity," in the practice of social science it is theories themselves that generate the experiments which test fac�s; it is theories, indeed, which structure the very reality-the "facts"­ which scientists study. Let me give an exa mple. A great deal of socia l science work

today is devoted to finding reasons for Japan's economic success.

What Is Theory?

4

In these studies social scientists have often discovered the high

value young Japanese students place on achievement, on the "so­

cialization for achievement" which is eventually translated into hard work and discipline in the adult economic world. But how is the "fact" of such socialization actually found? Is it because the reality of this socialization for achievement forces itself upon the social

scientific observer? Not really. Studies of socialization have been

appearing because many social scientists are imbued before they arrive in Japan with the theoretical notion that childhood sociali­ zation is decisive for determining how adults work. Let's continue with another illustration from the Japanese case.

There is a debate raging throughout Europe and the United St ates

about the historical reasons for Japan's rapid economic develop­ ment. Some scholars argue that it is the protected military position

that Japan has enjoyed since World War II which has allowed it

to prosper; others, in a similar vein, have cited the protectionist policies of the Japanese government. Still other scholars, however,

have argued that ther-e factors are not decisive, that we must look

to the cohesivenesr. of Japanese values and to the solidarity that ties [binds?] workers and [to?] capitalists. These fundamental differ­

ences

of scientific

opinion cannot,

I

believe, be resolved simply from

a closer look at the facts. although look closely we musl. These dif­

ferences are based upon the ge n eral theories scientists hold abou t

what motivates people to act and what kinds of forces hold society t o gether. If we believe that people are naturally competitive and invariably selfish, we \'otill look more toward m at e r ia l factors like government and military policy; if we believe, on the other hand, that feeli n g s and morality are vital aspects of the social bond, we are much more likely to be led to such "ideal" factors as values and solidarity.

But the significance of theory can be brought still closer to home. American

society

has

been

undergoing

the

revolution

called

"Reaganomics." It is a practical program in the most practical of all realms, the marketplace. Yet was this practic al policy generated

simply as a scientific solution for contemporary economic problems? Not at all. Reaganomics is based on ideas, in the first instance on the ideas of Milton Friedman, but, in a longer time frame, on ideas

that go back more than 200 years to the theories of Adam Smith

\Vhat Is Theor_v? and, before him, to John Locke. It was actu a l ly

John M a yn a r d

Keynes, the great economist opp o s e d to such free market theorie s,

who said that i deas are the most powerful economic force of all. How are theories generated? Many

scientists will admit that

theories are more general than facts and are equally i mp ortant in

generat in g scientific ideas. Yet the most signifi cant ques ti on still remains: how are theories produced?

Is theory induced from data, that is, from empirical facts? Ac­ cording to such a notion, we would study a lot of specific cases

and gradually make generalizations based on the common qu al i t i e s between them . The theory which is

so

generated, a "covering law,"

would then be acknowledged to play a decisive role in further empirical work. This n otion of inducti on sounds good, but it is simply untrue . Theory cannot be built \·1:ithout facts but it cannot ,

be built only with them either. i'\ ow some philosophers of sc i e n ce

acknowledge that theory does precede any attempt at gem·raliza­ tion-that we go out into the world of facts armed with theory­

yet they maintain, nonetheless, that we use atheoretical facts to

verify or falsify our general theoretical concepts. But this position is no more true than the last, especially for the kinds of general theories with which we will be concerned. Such theories cannot fina lly and conclusively be tested by fac t s even though a reference to facts is a vital part of every theoretical test. Facts can challenge some specific propositions in a theory, but a purely factual challenge is limited in two ways. First, the facts ,,·hich we me to cha l l e nge a theory are themselves informed by theories which we are not testing at t h i s time. Second, even if we allow a specific propos it ion to be falsified, we will rarely give up the general theory of which it is only a small pa rt Instead, we will launch some revision of the genera l theory to ali gn its propositions more closely with the se ,

.

new "factual" reports. How, then,

are

theories actually generated? I agree, certainly,

that the real world puts terribly strict limits would be hard, for ex am p le

,

on

our theorizing. It

f or a socia1 scientist to su ggest that

American socie ty is und er g oi ng a political revolution, just as "real­ ity" would make it hard to write a theory of Soviet society which

said that it was capitalist rat h e r than communist. Yet a few scientists

actually have said that American society is undergoi ng a pol i t ical

6

'What Is Theory?

revolution, and others have sought to demonstrate that Russia is

a capitalist, not a communist country. This shows in extremis how theoretical reasoning has relative autonomy vis-a-vis the "real world."

Indeed, I have felt compelled to put this last phra se in quotation

marks. Because the limits reality places on science are always me­ diated by prior commitments, it is impossible for us to know, at any particular time, what exactly reality is. Theories, then, are generated as much by the nonfactual or nonempirical processes that precede scientific contact with the real world as they are by thi s "real world" structure . By nonfactual processes

I mean such things as graduate school dogma, intellectual

socialization, and the imaginative speculation of the scienti st, which is based as much on his personal fantasy as on external reality itself. In the construction of scienti fic theories, a ll these processes are modified by the real world, but they are never eliminated. There is, then, a double-sided relation between theories and facts.

I will call the nonempirical part of science the a priori element.

This element is carried not through observations but by traditions. Such a claim might strike you as rather odd. You would normally view science, the prototype of rationality and modernity, as an­ tithetical to tradition. In my view, however, science-even when

it is rational-vitally depends on tradition. Sociology is an empirical social science, committed to rigorous test ing, to facts, to the d i s­ cipline of proof a nd falsification. Yet all these scientific activities, in my view, occur within t aken-for-granted traditions which are not subject to strictly empirical evaluation. What are these scientific traditions? We can agree, no doubt, that they are most likely composed of the basic components of social science. The problem is that people conceptualize these basic

components in different ways . It is fa ir to say, indeed, that these different, often antithetical ways of conceptualizing the basic com­ ponents of social science are exactly what contemporary theoretical

Continuum

Diagram 1.1.

The "Nontactual" theoretical environment

I

of

Scientific

Thought

--------4

I

"Faclual" empirical

en\lironment

ll'hat Is Thenn•?

7

debate is all about. Still, identify the basic components we must,

way will we be able to identify the basic traditions which inform the nonempirical basis of the discipline. This task is more difficult than it might seem, for in socia l science a range of nonempirical elements are important. It is n ot only

for only in this

beliefs about what these elements are, but which among them is more important, that is passed down from one generation of so­ ciologists to the next.

I would like to conceive of these elements

as forming a continuum of scientific thought (see diagram 1.2).

Different trad i t io ns of social theory usually take one level of this

cont inuum as more determinate

than others. They often argue, in

fact, that this or that level alone is of ultimate importance.

It

then, that the various theoretical under!>tandings of the taken to be decisive are the basis for the principal sociological traditions. Many theorists argue, for example, that it is the ideological level that is decisive. The no n e m p i ri cal element which det e rmines the substance of social scie n t i fic finding!>, they claim, is the p o lit i cal

follows,

comp one n t which is

beliefs of the scientists. Sociology is seen as divided between con­

servative, liberal, and radi ca l traditions. Though this perspective

on soc io log ical theory-like the others I will discuss-has been with us for centuries, in the postwar period it reemerged in the social co n fl i cts of the 1960s. Critical sociologists came to view academic sociology as an "establishment" or "priestly" discipline, an id eological theory challenged by the revolutionary or prophetic sociology of the New Left.

Diagram 1.1. The

Scientific Continuum

Metaphysical environment ""Theories''

and Its

Components

Empirical

environment "fads"

8

·what Is

Theory?

Other social scientists argue, just as strongly, that it is the model level that determines the fundamental nature of sociological thought. Models are deliberately simplified, highly abstract pictures of the world. There are models, for example, which describe society

as

a functioning system, like the physiological system of the body

or

the mechanical system of an internal combustion engine. Other models view society as composed of separate institutions without any integral, systemic relationship to one another. For those who

emphasize the model level above all else, it is the decision about functional versus institutional models that is responsible for the complexion of a social theory. Whereas the ideological approach argues that a scientist's political decisions generate models, this

second group of theorists ar gues that it is decisions about functional vs. institutional models that generate ideological commitments. They have frequently argued, for example, that functionalist models lead to conservative ideology. Ideological theorists, by contrast, have

often argued in the opposite way, that conservative political beliefs lead to the adoption of functional models. Another level of the sociological continuum that has often been taken to be decisive is the methodological. It is argued that decisions about whether to pursue quantitative versus qualitative techniques, or comparative an alysis in contrast to case studies, are decisive in

structuring general sociological theories. At a less technical level,' methodological disputes focus on the role of abstract theorizing versus empirical fact gathering. This, of course, is the very dispute

I have just engaged in here! Adherents to different sides in these

methodological debates often share a belief which I do not: they o ften believe that it is from these decisions about methodology that commitments to models and ideologies arise. It is not, they believe, the other way around. Finally, there are a number of social theorists today who argue that

a

sociologist's decision about whether the world is in equilib­

rium or in conflict is the most absolute and decisive one he can

make. "Conflict theory," for example, insists that if assumptions are made that society is consensual, then models will be chosen that are functional, systemic ideological positions taken that are conservative, and methodologies employed that are empiricist and antitheoretical.

\.Vhal Is Theory•?

9

have said, you have probably picked up a note of s keptici sm I do not want you to get the idea, ho·wever, that I regard these discussions as irrelevant. Each of the nonempirical assumptions they focus on is, in my view, vital for sociological theorizing. I will ha\o·e occasion throughout these lectures to focus on each of these different levels-model, method, ideology, em­ pirical conflict, or consensus-and to argue for its imp ortance in determining the shape of a par ti c ula r the oretical position or the­ oretical c hange At the sa me time, I would like to arg ue that each of these strongly held theoretical positions is reductionistic. While each of the se levels is significant, no single level actuatly has the determinate power often attributed to it. Ideology is important, but it is quite wrong to try to reduce the ory to the influence of political as­ sumptions. It is not at all unusual, indeed, to find that theorists with very different political ideas produce theories that are similar in sign ifican t ways. Just so, it is wrong to think of models as so decisive. Models are important, but they cannot determine the other assumptions that theorists make. Functional models, for ex­ ample, are promoted today by radical Marxists as well as by con­ servative;;. Some functionalists see system requirements as contra­ d ict o r y a nd ultimately self-destructive; others see them as complementary and self-maintaining. In the same way, there are functionalists who are empiricists and others who appreciate the in dependence of the nonempirical side of theory. To consider another typical reduction, it seems awfully wrongheaded to attributt decisive power to methodological commitments. In the hist o ry oJ sociology, the same methodology has substantiated the most radi cally conflicting position s There are, for example, both quantitativt Marxist theories of class formation and quantitative l i b eral theorie: which replace class with status. The methodological commitment are the same, but the theories are very different. Finally, whethe or not a theorist takes the world to be in a state of conflict simp} : cannot, in my view, determine the other characteristics of his theor)' Marx saw society as in conflict, but so did Hegel, and few wouh put their theories into the same camp. But the problem with these contemporary debates is not simp] that they are reductionist, thal. they conflate what are actuall From what I .

.

.

What Is Theory?

10

relatively inde pendent levels. The

problem is

also that most

of

these cont empo rary debates ignore the most gene ral nonempirical level of all. I will call this the second part

of this lecture,

level

presuppositions.

of

In

the

I will outline what these presuppositions

I will suggest that they form the dominant traditions in to my topic of contemporary sociological th e o ry I will bring this abstract discussion of traditions down to earth by discussing the intellectual and social forces which brought the center of theoretical debate

are, and

social t h ou ght. In my con c lu sion , I will finally come back .

to the United States in the

period

immediately after World

War

II.

By presuppositions, I ref er to the most general

every sociologist makes-what

ass umption s that he "presupposes" -when h e en­

counters reality. It seems obvious, I hope, that the first thing a student of social life you

are

presupposes is

the nature

thinking about what action is

like,

act i on

of

.

When

you usually think about

whether it is rational or not. The "problem of action," then, is whether we ass ume actors are rational or nonrational.

Now I

do

not mean to imply here the commonsense equation of rational with good and smart, and nonrational with bad and stupid. I do not mean, in other words, that n onrat ion al action is "irrational." In social theor y, rather, this dichotomy refers to whether people are selfish (rational) or idealistic (nonrational), whether

they are nor­

mative and moral (nonrational) in their approach to the world or purely instrumental (rational), whether they act in terms of

imizing efficiency (rationally)

or

whether

they

max­

are governed by

emotions and unconscious desires (nonrationally). All these dicho­ tomies relate to the vital qu e stion

of

the internal

versus

external

reference of action. Rationalistic approaches to action portray the actor as taking his bea rings from forces

outsi de of himself,

whereas

nonrational approaches imply that action is motivated from within.

By calling this choice presuppositional, I am suggesting that every

social

theory

and every empirical work takes an a p r iori position

on this problem of action. Each does not, however, necessarily have to

choose one

side to the exclusion

of

the other. Action may be

portrayed, though it usually is not, as having both rational and nonrational elements. Yet

A

to

answer the central question about action is not enough.

second major

issue

needs to be

presupposed.

I will call this

the

What Is Theory? "

II

p roblem of order." Sociologists are sociologists because they believe

there are patterns to society, that there are structures separate from the individuals who compose it. Yet while all sociologi st s

believe this, they often disagree sharply about how such an order

is actually produced. I will call this an argument between individ­ ua listic and collectivist approaches to order.

If

thinkers presuppose a collectivist position, they see social pat­

terns as existing pri or to a ny specific individual act, as, in a sense,

the p roduct of history. Social or der confronts the newborn indi­ vidual as an established fact that is

"

outside

are writing about adults, collecti.,·ists may

of him. Now, if they well acknowledge that

"

social order exists as much inside the individual as

this is an important point to which

w ith out;

in fact,

will return. The issue here, however, is that whether it is conceptualized as inside or outsi de an actor social order from the collectivist perspective is not s een we

,

as the product of purely this-instant, this-moment considerations.

Any ind i vidu al act, according to collectivist theory, is pushed in the direction of preexisting structure, although this direction re­ mains only a probability for those collectivists who acknowledge that action has an element of freedom. Thus, for collectivist th eory it is the economy that determines the direction of individual eco­ nomic actors, not entrepreneurs who create the economy; it is the religious system that determines the behavior of an individual be1iever, rather than the church which springs from faith; it is the party organizations that produce politicians, not politic ians who ,

make parties.

Individualistic t h e orists often acknowledge that there do appear

to be such extra-individual

structures

in society,

and they certainly

recognize tha t there are intelligible patterns. But they insist, all

the same, that these patterns are the result of individual negotiation, that they are the upshot of individual choice. They believe not simply that structures

are

"carried" by individuals but that they

are a ctually produced by actors in the con c ret e, ongoing processes of individual i n terac tion

.

For them, it is not only that individuals

have an element of freedom but that they can alter the fundaments

of social or der at e.,·ery successi.,·e point in historical time. Individ­

in this view, do not carry order inside of them. Rather, they follow or rebel a ga i n st social order-even their own val u es ac­

uals,

-

cording to their individual desires.

12

What Is Theory?

I do n ot regard the problems of action and order as "optional." l believe that every theory takes some position on both. But I will

go even furth er than this. I want to argue that the logical per­ mutations among presuppositions form the fundamental traditions of sociology. There have been rational-individualistic theories and rational-collectivist theories. Theories have been normative-indi­ vidualistic and normative-collectivist . There have also been some attempts i n the history of social though t-too few and far be­ tween-to tra nscend these dichotom ies in a multidimensional way . These presuppositional issues are of much more than academic concern. Whatever position theorists take, fundamental values are at stake . The study of soc iety revolves around the questions of freedom and order, and every theory is pulled between these poles. This is , I think , a peculiarly Western dilemma, or better yet, a peculiarly m odern one. As modern m e n and women , we believe that individuals have free will-in religious terms, that every human being has an in violable soul-and because of this, we believe, each person has the capacity to act in

a

responsible way . Such cultural

beliefs have been, to one degree or another, institutionalized in every W estern society. The individual has been set apart as a special unit . There have been elaborate legal efforts to protect him or her from the group, from the state , and from other, culturally "coercive" organs l i ke the church . Sociological theorists have usually taken these developments quite seriously, and like other citizens of Western society have tried to protect this individual freedom. I ndeed , sociology emerged as a discipline from this very differentiation of the individual in society, for it was the independence of the individual , the growth of his

powers to think freely about society , which allowed society itself to be conceived of as an independent object of study . It is the i ndependence of the individual that makes "order" problematic,

and it is this problernatizing of order that makes sociology possible. At the same time , sociologists acknowledge that there are patterns even in this modern order and that the everyday l i fe of individuals has a deeply structured quality. This is just what makes the values of "freedom" and "individuality" so precious. It is this tension between freedom and order that provides the intellectual and moral rationale for sociology : sociology explores the nature of social order

Wh a t Is Theo ry?

13

in large pan because it is concerned about its implications for individual freedom. Individualistic theories are attractive and powerful because they preserve individual freedom in an overt, explicit, and complete way. Their a priori postulates assume the integrity of the rational or moral individual, taking for granted that the actor is free of his situation defined either as material coercion or moral influence. Yet the freedom of the individualistic pmition, in my view, is achieved at great theoretical cost. It gives an unrealistic and artificial voluntarism to the actor in society. I n this sense individualistic theory does freedom no real service. It ignores the real threats that social structure often poses to freedom and, by the same token, the great sustenance to freedom that soc ial structures can provide. It seems to me that the moral design of individualistic theory encourages the illusion that individuals have no need for others or for society as a whole. Collectivist theory, on the other hand, acknowledges that social controls exist, and by doin g so i t can subject these controls to explicit analysis. I n this sense collectivist t hought represe nts a great gain over individualistic thought , both morally and theoretically. The question, of cou rse, is whether this gain can be achieved only at an unacceptable price. What does such collectivist theorizing lose? How is the collective force it postulates related to the individual w i l l , to voluntarism, and to sel f-co n t ro l? Before we try to answer t his decis:ve questi on, we must be clear about a vital fact: assump­ tions about order do not entail any particular assumptions about action . Because of this indeterminac y , there are very different kinds of collectivist theory. The way I see it, the crucial and decisive question of whether collective theory is worth the cost hinges on whether it presupposes instrumental or moral acti on. Many collectivist theories assume that actions are motivated by a narrow , merely technically efficient form of rationality . When this happens, collective structures are portrayed as if they were external to individuals in a physical sense. These seemingly external-material structures, like political or economic systems, are said to c ontrol actors from without , whether they like it or not. They do so by arranging punitive sanctions and positive rewards for an actor who is reduced to a calculator of pleasure

14

What Is Theo ry?

and

pai n . Because this actor is assumed to respond obj ectively to

outside

influences,

" motives"

rationalist form, for

are eliminated as a theoretical con­

out of co l l ect i vi st analysis when it takes a it is then assumed that the actor's response

cern . Subjectivity drops

be predicted from the analysis of his external environmen t . This environment, not the nature o r extent of the actor's personal involvement with it, is considered determ i nate . I am arguing, then , that rational-collectivist theories explain order only by sacrificing t h e subject, by eliminating the very notion of the self. In classical

can

sociology, reductionisti c forms of Marx ist theory presents the most formidable example

of

development , but it also pervades the theory as well. I f, by contrast , col lectivist theory allows that a c tion may be nonrational, it perc e i v e s actors as guided by ide al s and emotio n . I deals and emotion are located w ithin rather t h a n w ithout . I t is true, of c ourse that this internal realm of subjecti vity is in i tial ly structured by e nc oun ter s with "external" objects-with paren ts, teachers, siblings , and boo ks, w i t h all t h e varied sorts of cultural carriers and obj ect attachments encountered by young "social i n­ itiates. " Yet according to nonrational collective theory , in the this

sociology of Weber and Uti li t a ria n

,

process of socialization

such extra-individual structu res become

internalization is ac­ knowledged ca n subj ectivity and motivation become fundamental topics for social theory , for if internalization is a cc e pted it is obvious that som e vital relationsh i p exists between the "inside" and the "outside" of any act . Individual volition becomes part of social order , and real soc ial life involves n e g o t i a tio n not between the

internal to t h e self. O n l y if this

process

of

asocial individual and h is world hut between the social self and the

social world . Such thinking le ad s voluntaristic approach to order,

to what Ta lco t t Parsons called a though , I should warn you , this

i s not volu n tarism in an individualistic sense . To the contrary , voluntarism might

be sai d to be exempl ified by theories which see

cultural systems. t heori zi n g encou n t ers are quite the op­ posite from those e n cou n te red by col lectiv i s t theories of a more rationalistic sort. Moralistic and id ea list theories often underesti­ mate the ever present tension between individual volition and col lective order . There is a strong tendency to assume an inna te

in dividuals as socialized by The da n gers that such

�'\!hat Is Theory?

15

com p lementarit y betwee n t he social self and that se!fs world-in religious terms , between the individual soul and the will of God , in political terms between i ndividual and collective will.

I hope that this brief discussion of the strengths and the weak­ of instrumen tal and moral forms of collectivist theory gives you some idea of how important a synthesis between them might nesses

be . While each has its achievemen ts , each by itself tends toward a dangerous one-dimensionality which overlooks v ital aspects of the mora l and scientific interweave the internal and external elements of collective con trol . I w i l l not even try to tell you at th is point what such a multidimensional theory m i ght look l i k e . My goal for these lectures is to outline one . I w i l l do so through a critical reconstruc tion of sociological theory si nce World War I I . Presuppositions about actio n and order are the " tracks" along which sociology runs. Wh ether t heo r ist s or not, sociologists make human

condition.

I would argue on both

grou nds that theory should

presuppositional decision s and they must l ive with the consequences .

What these presuppositions are, a n d what their consequences have be my point of de p ar tu r e throughout this cours e .

been , will

Presuppositional choices determ i n e not on l y t heoretica l possibil­

ities in

a

positive sen se but

also constraints and vulnerabi l i ties .

Every presu pp ositional p osit ion closes off certain aven ues even while

up othen. T heorists often have second thoughts about some possi b i l i t i es o u t , and in this sense their presuppositions are straitja ckets from which they try to escape . The problem is it opens leaving

that if they escape too far they w i l l become d i fferent theorists

in a theorist ' s wor k . T h e earl y and l a t e r though t o f Marx is the most famous exampl e , and i n the lec tures which follow I wi ll talk about similar ruptures in the theories of Garfinkel and Geertz. But theorists rarely want to change their idea s so abruptly . More often, they want to maintain the dom inant thrmt of their ideas while avoidi n g

altogether. There are , i ndeed, often decisive " b reaks"

some of their con sequ ences. The resu lt is that they introduce revisions only in an ad h oc

way . The new concepts become am­

biguo us . s o the ';old" th eory can still be sustained. I will call these ad hoc concepts "residual categories" because they are outside the theorist 's explicit and systematic line of argume n t . You might t h i n k of residual categories

as

theoretical afterthough ts: a t heorist invents

16

Wha t Is Theory?

them to respond to nagging worries that he has ignored some crucial point. In the course of these lectures we will find that even master theorists move uneasily between ambiguous revisions and the reas­ sertion of their original presuppositional position "in the last in­ stance. ' ' I will suggest that these options form the poles of a dilemma from which theorists cannot easily escape. Every theoretical position, I believe , produces its own particular dilemma . I t is often the followers of master theorists who are particularly sensitive to the dilemmas they faced. They want to defend themselves against criticism, but they also want to be loyal to the orthodox work . As a result, they may seize on a tradition 's residual categories and try to work them up in a more systematic way. Still, they have not escaped from the original theoretical dilemma. If they want to remain loyal to the master's tradition , they can rework his residual categories only up to a certain point. In the end , they must be allowed to retain their residual status , for only in this way can the "typical" elements of the original theory be preserved. Just as I will focus in the following lectures on the presuppositions which determine the tracks along which various theories run , I will also try to show you how every presuppositional position leads to strains which can derail it. I will describe the residual categories which invariably appear and the theoretical dilemmas which are typical of sociological theory in the con temporary period. In this way I should be able to trace not just the basic structures of contemporary theory, but its internal dynamics as well, the strains and conflicts which lead to subtraditions, countertraditions, and to theoretical change. I will not, however, focus on presuppositions alone. At some point in the course of these lectures every different level of the sociological continuum will emerge as important, sometimes as decisive. It would be foolish to i gnore, for example, the vast ramifications of ideology. Sociological theories are not simply at­ tempts to explain the world , but also efforts to evaluate it, to come to terms with broader questions of meaning. Because they are existential statements and not just scientific ones, they invariably have enormous political implications. For this reason , they must always be read against the politics of their day. How a theorist

17

What Is Theo n?

resolves the presuppositional tension be tween freedom and control is related to -though not determ i n ed by-the ideological response he makes to this tension

as

it appea r s , for example, in the political

conflict between capitalism and socialism . Nor will I neglect the enormous impact on more general as­

sumptions of changes in the organization of the empirical world

itself. If a theory cannot be usefu l for concrete empirica l analysis,

it fails. If a theory is perceived as depending upon empirical propositions that are wrong, it is discredited.

It

is for this reason

that the changing empirical environment of sociological theory­ the ebb and flow of war and peace , the increasing differentiation and rational ization of politics a nd e con omics, the con fidence or

disillusion in public life-have had a n enormous impact on the development o f contemporary soc i a l theory itself. So far I have spent a great dea l of time on a few extremely

abstract theoretical issues. This is the end of the " dry as dust"

introduction that is necessary for our di scussion to proceed . I t is time to come back to eart h . The transition is easy to make , because

the " logical possibilities" I have described are concretized in the

history of social thought by specific i n tellectual tradi tions. Each

logical positio n , indee d , was arti cu lated by one of the sociological

traditions which defined the " classical" period of sociology between

1 8 50 and 1 92 0 . These concrete e m bodiments of analytical possi­

bili ties formed the resources from w h ich sociological t heory in the

contemporary period h as drawn .

Karl Marx assumed that the e x ploitative economy of capitalist society produced alienated, instrumen tally motivated men and women who had no access to nonrational feeli n gs and ideals . Oppressed

by the overarch ing structures of the capitalist economy, these very collective structures would lead the m , r eward them , and punish

them into revolt against capitalis m a nd toward socialist reconstruc­ tion . Emi le Durkheim theorized in an opposite way . He tended to view soc iety as

a

cultural and symbo l i c realm in which the most

tellin g social ties are those of solidarity and affect . I n contrast to a world of exploitation, he described a kind of secularized religious

world in which sociall)· structur ed volition was the real stuff of social life. Max "-'eber sometimes tried to combine these materialist

and idealist positions . He believed, for exampl e , that the historical

18

What Is Theory?

origins of m odern rationality could be traced to nonrationa l ethical and religious beliefs . Yet his theory of modern society en ded up developing a political version of rational-collectivist theo ry . N ot

just economics-here he departed empirically from M arx- b ut t h e state, the law, and bureaucracy were v iewed as structu res that dominated modern individuals from without . I n m y view, these are the main thread s , the dom inant tr adition s, which constitute the inheritance of contemporary sociol ogical the ­ ory. Yet there are other classical traditions as wel l , and we m ust be aware of these, too , if we are to understand the fu l l range of resources with which c ontemporary theory began . Adam S mith

wrote lon g before the major for m ulators of the moder n soc iological disciplin e , yet h is "classica l economic theory" of market rationality and cost ma x imization has conti n ued to form an import ant re f­ erence poi n t for all attempts at social theory which seek an indi ­

vidualistic and rationalist i c form . The theories of Sim me l , M ead,

and Freud a lso had i ndivid ualistic e lements, but th ese we re m uch

more ambiguously form ulated than were Adam Smith ' s . I n deed,

in my view their theories should be seen more in terms of micro­ scopic versus macroscopic empirica l foci than in terms of in d i v id­ ualistic versus col lectivist pre supposition s .

They

studied i n divid u al s

and groups-a " m icro" emphasis-rather than "macro " things like institutions or societies

as a

whole. Y et the traditions they establ i shed

did contain individualistic elements , and these provided i mpo rtant

reference points for contemporary efforts to maintai n s uch a pre­ suppositional stance. Sociological theory , then , exists in time and space a nd not ju st along some abstract scientific continuum . I t is carried by t raditio n s and made up by real h u man bei ngs. I n this last part of my l ecture ,

l would like to talk a bit about the time and place i n w hich

contem porary sociological theory be ga n .

The classical traditions o f sociology were formed mo re or l es s by the end of W orld War l . This first period of world war , a n d

the twilight zone which interceded between it and the n ext, were

decisive in affecti ng the character of contemporary thou gh t . Bu t if this establishes the time reference for theory, what about it s " space"? In the beginning, these classical traditions were, w i t h the exception of Mead and pragmatis m , e ntirely European. I n th e post-

Wh a t Is Theo r_v? W orld War I I period, t heory underwent

19 a

sea change. I t moved

d ec i si v ely towa rd A merica.

Why did t he Europea n traditions of sociological theory not con­

tinue

in the immediate, post-World War II period? Its originators

p rodu c ed great ideas. Why this temporal hia tus

and

geogra p h i cal

shift? European sociology suffered greatly in the period between the

two world w a r s. The stor;.-· of thi s interlude has never been told in a satisfactory way, bu t

I

think cert a i n basic point!'. ar e clear.

There were, first of a l l , intellectual and insti tutional problems . Enormous organi zatio n a l barriers to soc i o logy existed in European

u niversities, which were old and venerable institutions commi tted to c l a ssica l sc hola rs hip and hu m anit i e s .

was for

a

Durkhe i m ,

for example,

good part of his career unable to a cquire a " chair" in

sociology, and when

he finally did so it

was a professorsh ip in

sociology and educa t io n . Simmel cou ld not fi n d a major posit i o n

until the end of h i s c a re e r , a lthough this had as much to do with

anti-Semitism as institutional oppo s i t i on

.

While there were idios y n ­

c rati c reasons for Webe r ' s failure to hold an important u n i v ers it y

p osi ti on as well, it is not a cci d en tal tha t he w a s regarded as much

as a historica l eco nomist a s

a

sociologist for most of his life .

A s f o r the int ellectual ba rriers to European sociolo gy ,

there

existed in Euro pe few stron g trad i t i o n s of empirical research to legitimate and concret ize social theory . ln part this

was

because

of

the int e llec t u a l hegemony of c lass icism and human ism , but it was

also because of t h e radical cultural a nd intel lectual antagon ism

among many European i ntellectuals lO contemporary so c i ety itself.

The Europea n alterna tive to soci ology w a s � a rx ism , and though

Marxism c ertainly flourished it often ass u m ed a practical, pol i t ic i z ed form that was opposed to th e ra ri fi ed discussions of " high" intel­

lectual life. The most im porta n t and soph istica t ed M arxist intel­

for poli ti cal reasons often detached or excluded from soc i olo gy as a n aca demi c discipline. There were also social a nd ideol ogic al forces behind the d i ffi ­ culties of Europe an socio logy in the interwar per iod . These c an , rath e r melodramatical l y , be desc ribed a s the crisis of E u r opean l e ctua l s

,

moreov er , were

civil ization itself. Europe between the yea rs

1914

and

1 94 5

was

inhospitable to the c ont i nu i ty of any intellectual tra d itio n s . Soci-

What Is Theory?

20

ological theories , moreover, were not just any traditions but tra­ di t i ons of a very particu lar type . Classical sociological theory was inspired by an optimistic faith that reasonable solutions could be foun d for the problems of secular i ndustrial society. It was prem ised upon the assumption that, despite social upheaval , important ele­ m e nts of individuality and reason would be preserved. True , some

of the classical theorists were more pessim istic about the cha n c es for reform than o ther s : Marx demanded

a

thoro ugh reconstruction

if his faith and hope were to be redeemed . Other classical th e orists

seemed-from our present perspective-much too optimistic about ach ieving rationality and freedom in their own time. One thinks here of M ea d , and sometimes of Durkhei m . But only Weber was a truly pessimistic m a n . Still , he was l iberal , if a liberal in despair.

Classical theory was wri tten not simply with the hope but the expectation that people could gain control over their society and maintain freedom as well. These imminent cha n ges-whether re­ form or revolution- w ould m i x reason with social control .

I n Europe between the wars, however, these hopes of the soci­

ological founders were dashed . The lead i n g members of Durkh e im s '

school were killed during World War I . Durkh eim and Weber,

indeed. both died

at

relatively early ages

from

causes related to

the war itself. In this period as wel l , the Enligh tenment hopes of Marxism were sharply set back. W ith the o n set of the war Eu ropean w o rking class movements abandoned internationalism and pacifism for the militan t patriotism of their respective national struggles . By the 1 930s. Europea n civilization was engulfed by th e growing

ti d e of irrationalism and instability. Sometimes European intellec­ tuals did not see the extent of the p rob lem . When they did , they

usually felt helpless to prevent i t . Many of the leading stu dents of the great sociological founders event ually fled Europe for the U nited States .

I n America the situation was entirely different, and sociology came to have a very different place. I ntellectually and institutionally, American sociology was able to avoid the debilitating forces ex­

perienced by its European counterpart . Because American univer­

sities were relatively new, without sharply differentiated status groups or established i n stitutional cores, the new d i scipli n e of sociology w as give n more of a chance. Often it was received with open arms.

\-Vh a t Is Th eo ry:?

21

Politically , sociology was associated not with a radical tradition but

with a more socially i n tegrative and reformist one . The relatively progressive and liberal character of A merican society made "anti­ sociologica l "

in tellectual movements like

�·larxism less

likely

to

emerge. Socially and ideologica l l y , moreover , America remained relatively

unaffected by

the

growing crisis of European ci vilizatio n . American

i ntellectual life , influenced deci sively by pragmatism , rem ained op­ timistic and sel f-confident about reconstructi ng the \'\r estern wor l d .

"Chicago sociology , " which flourished i n t h e M iddle West from

the beginning of the century , produced coun tless empirical studies

oriented to the liberal con trol and reform of social conflict . Yet American sociology i n the i nterwar period , th ough more secure than its European counterpart ,

was

not entirely un troubled.

American soc iology in general and Chicago sociology in particular were, by and large, alarmingl y atheoretical and deep l y e mpiricist. They were haunted by theories of insti nctualism and v estiges of Social Dan--: i nism , by i n dividua l istic forms of pragmati sm , and by

a n endu r i n g anti-philosophical bias that made the creation of sys­ tematic sociol ogical theory next t o im possible. By the later 1 9 3 0s , the situation of sociology might be described as follows . O n the one hand , without

a

there were theoretical tradi tions

nation; on the other, th ere was a nation w i t hout a theory .

This paradox set t h e background for the emergence of Talcott

Parsons, the figure w h o , I w il l argue , created the frame work for

contemporary debate . The theoreti cal le gacy of classical thought and the institutional

and cu ltural situation of the first third of the twentieth century

provide the time and space for Parsons' emergence as a m aj or figure. As

a

theorist, he was bent on the recon struction of European

sociology, providing a synthesi s \\·hich would elimi nate the warrin g

schools which had divided i t . As an American, he was confident

enough to thi n k t h a t in doing so he could find a path to restore reason to culture and individual control to society. That he

not entirely successful in doing e ither does not detract from

w as

the

greatness of his effort, though i t certai nly explai n s the success of the "a nti-Parso nian" movemen ts wh ich eventua l ly succeeded it.

LECT U RE T W O

P A R S O N S ' F I RS T S Y N T H ES I S

I

N

1 93 7 an extraordinary book appeared. Little noticed at the time, it would eventually become the most important and influential publication of any sociologist since Weber's Economy

and Society appeared in the mid- 1 920s. This book of Social Action. '

was

The

Structure

Though Parsons once described himself as an " incurable" theor­ ist, the ideological and social ambition of his first great work must also be clearly understood. In the early pages of Structure Parsons indicates that he is fully aware that his intellectual effort to develop a new system of abstract theory must be seen as part of the intense social crisis of his time. He introduces the work by suggesting a critical dilemma. Western society places great faith in the integrity of the individual and in his capacity for rationality, yet both these objects of traditional faith have been placed in dire jeopardy during the events of the interwar period. Though Parsons acknowledges that there are obvious social reasons for this threat to individualism and rationality, he is writing a theoretical work , and he lays part of the burden for the contemporary cris is on internal intellectual developments themselves. It is, at least in part , the simplistic ide­ ology of progress and evolution that has made the cherished ideas of Western society so vulnerable. This ideology reflects the old­ fashioned nineteenth-century liberalism which , Parsons believes , remains omnipresent in the English-speaking world. He identifies this ideology with the theory of laissez-faire capitalism-elsewhere he calls it the theory of business civilization; he insists that laissez­ faire theory (initiated by Adam Smith) denies any role to the collective good and denies the possibility for emotional and ethical 1

Talcott Parsons, Tht Structure

of Social

Actiorz (New Yor k : Free Press,

1 9 37).

Pa rsom '

First S)'nthesis

23

self-expression _ It is, i n other words, a simplistic theory , not just a simplistic ideology. Classical liberal theory assumes that if individuals just act naturally they will be rational , and if they just pursue their own selfish interests as individuals then society will "automatically" be stable and every individual want be satisfied. Parsons calls this the postulate of an "automatic self-regu lating mechanism . " But , he points out, this automatic self-regulation clearly has not occurred . The West in the 1 9 30s was in a state of conflict approaching chaos. The autonomy of the individual was under fire from the political right and left, and the supremacy of reason was subject to increasing attack-"various kinds of individualism have been under increas­ ingly heavy fire [and] the role of reason , and the status of scientific knowledge . . . have been attacked again and agai n . " From the right the threat was Na zism-"we have been overwhelmed by a flood of anti-intellectualist theories " -from the left it was com­ munism-" socialistic , collectivistic, organic theories of all sorts. " 2 Parsons suggests that it was again st the inadequacies o f l iberal ideology and theory that these collectivist traditions of left and right had raised their ugly heads. I f the in tegrity of the individual were to be saved , and the capacity of reason sustained , then this l iberal theory must be changed . This ambition launched Parsons on his famous book. T o revive and reformulate liberal ideology was the great moral injunction u nder which h i s new theory was born . Parson s ' enemy is nineteenth-century liberal theory , not just the ideology that corresponded to it. He cal ls th is theoretical system " U tilitarianism . " I ndividualistic a nd rationalistic theory to its core, U tilitarianism , according to Parsons, is pervasive in Western social thought. There are clear social rea sons , I might add, for this omnipresence . In a more or less m odern and differentiated society, individuality and rationality correspond to the common sense of everyday life. They also correspond to the self-interest of the rising middle classes and to the ideological h opes of Western men and women more generally . Yet com mon sense and ideology should not define social theory. Indeed, Parsons believes they must be 2

Struau re, p. !> .

Pa rsons ' First Synthesis

24

sharply separated. To understand what he has in mind, we have to examine i n some detail the technical "frame of reference" which he develops to criticize U tilitariansim and upon which he builds his alternative . At the center of this alternative theory is what Parsons describes as the " unit act . " This is a hypothetical actor in a hypothetical situation , a model that consists of effort, ends or goals, conditions, means, and norms. Every person, accordin g to this mode l , has the capacity for agency: people act , they have purposes, they manifest will. With his notion of agency , or what he calls " effort, " Parsons grants that every actor has free will, that free will is an indispensable part of every theory . But he goes on to assert that individuals

cannot realize their goals automatically , that is, simply a s the man­ ifestation of their effort . Acts occur within " situation s , " realities which i n some sense are outs ide a n actor's control . The situation refers to material elements wh ich con strai n agency . Because effort is exerted , some of these constrai n i n g situational elements can be pared away and molded to the actor's purpose. These become the " means" of action . But s o me of these constraints are unalterable: they become the "conditions" of action. There is one more vital element to be explained : norms . To say that action is norm ative

is to say that it involves interpretation , that actors i nt erj ect their subjective judgment into every action and situation . I n te rpre tation. demands standards accordi n g to w h ich the situation can be judged

a nd the unfolding action related. These standards are norms. Every pursuit of ends is guided by normative considerations, by ideal standards and expectations which g u i de interpretation and agency . Effort is always expressed through the normative pursui t of ends.

We can say , then , that there are subjective and objectives com­

ponents of the u nit act . Ends, effort , and norms constitute th e subjective parts , while conditions and means refer to the objective elements. All actio n , Parsons maintains, involves ten sion betw een

norms and conditions, between subjective and obj ectiv e c om po­ nents .

It

is

clear that Parsons

invented this model to include

elements of each of the partial traditions that preceded h i m . Idealist traditions focus on norms if they are collectivist, effort if they are individualist . Materialist traditions focus on conditions if they are collectiv ist, means if they are individualist. Parsons' model of the

Panm1 s ' First Syn thesis unit act i s d esigned

25

include each of these emphases wi thout surrendering to any their one-sided concerns. Each of these partial, one-sided h istorical traditions defines the abstract elements of the unit act in a specific and concrete way . U tilitarianism, for example, insists that the norms which guide ac tion are always ones that demand absolute rationality and effi­ c ie ncy . Because of t his insistence, i t is the external conditi ons of action which become theoretically paramount . One cannot "cal­ culate" one's subjective values to see if they are "efficient" ; such commitments must be accepted on n onrational o r irrational grounds or not at all . The only elements toward which an actor can actually adopt a purely rational and calculating attitude are normative elements from his material environment of action , or , possibly, eleme nts in which he no longer believes but which are backed by threats of m ateria l sanction. By assumi ng that an actor i s guided only by the norm of rational efficiency, therefore, U tilitarianism assumes that actors are oriented only to problem s of adaptation vis-a-vis external co nd it i ons. If a theorist belie ves this is true, the subjective aspect of action ceases to be his concern, and t he analysis of motive drops out of his theor y . For Parsons , the protot}'Pical example of such U tilitarian thinking is classical e con om ic theory, which portrays the economic a c tor as motivated only by the lowe st price . If a good becomes too e xpensive, this economizing actor will not buy it . Parsons insists that this is not always the case, that factors other than e xpen se or utility invariably intrud e. The U tilitarian a pproach, he be l ieves , radically simplifies action . But the really negative i mpli cations of the Utili­ tarian approach to action become visible only when it is seen in the light of its approach to order . Parsons believed that the in­ dividualism of nineteenth-century liberal theory made it hi ghly unstable Individualism suggests atomism, and i f this atomistic quality is ma i nta i n e d social order becomes random an d unpredictable. But w hat if liberal theory wants to overcome individualism , as it must, for example, if it w ishes to explain the breakdown of social order? If the framework of instrumental a ction is to be maintained, such collectivist theoriz i ng must become antivoluntaristic. Why? The reasons can be found in Parsons' insistence on the obj ect i v ist effects of any purely rationalistic approach to action . Because the "rational" .

to

26

Pa rsons' First S_vn thesis

actor is conceived a s oriented only toward the si tu ati o n , r efe re nce to his subj ectivity drops out. Now , what if these act i on s are ag­ gregated to form collective order? If action is not seen as i nv o\v in

�

subjective agency and effort, then the only possible sou rc e of orde is external, conditional structure . Such collective stru c t u re can

coordinate individual actions only through coercion or re w ar d. In our economic example , the actions of individ ual a cto rs are controlled by a market over which no one has control . I n M arx i st

theory , this market is itself conceived as bei n g control l ed by the d istribu t ion of wealth and property . When a theoris t a n al vzes a market in U tilitarian terms , concepts like inte n tion , effor� , and interpretive standards are u nnecessary. By looking at th e pr ic es of commodities and at collective supply and dem a n d , it is a s s u m ed w e can predict the response of individuals in a determina t e way. The same co n ce pt u al narrowing is true for Marxist t h eory , o nly h ere the objective evolution of the mode of production det erm in es cl ass conflict a nd change . Parsons ack n owledges th a t suc h an e m p ha si s on material conditions is not the only way that U tili ta ri ani sm has sou ght to escape from the random izing conse q uences of i nd i vid­ ualism . The tradition has also developed a theory of de t er m i n ate i n stinct s , which holds that i n dividual actions a re coor d i n a ted n ot by individual decisions but by gene t ically coded bi o l o gi c al co m ­ mands. This e l i mination of voluntarism by the collective ve rsio n of u til­ itarian theory , Parsons bel i eves , creates the " U t i l itar ia n d i le m ma . . . If U tilitarianism wishes to maintain subj ectivity a nd freedo m , i t has to remai n individualistic. If it wishes to explain order i n a m ore positive way , it has to elim inate agency and fall back to an emp h asis . on the u nalterable elements of human interaction , to ei t h er h er edit (biological instincts) or environment (mate r ial cond ition s) . Th e Ia ter are conditions the actor cannot control , thi n gs w h ic h have nothing to do with h i s identity or w i l l .

�

I might add that such a resort t o explanations based on h eredit and environment is not simply a historical artifact of U tili tar ia nis

:. h

it is still basic to a great deal of social theory toda y an d to m uc of �ur commonsense thinkin� as w \1. on: cons�antl y h ears peopl e _ _ clatm , for example , that pohucal mstltuuons wtth whi ch we h ave nothing whatever to do "really" run our societi es, or th t a all

:

Pa non� · Fi rst Synthesis

27

power ful economic i nstitutions pull invisible strings that make hu­ man puppets of us al l . We also find a continui n g resort to instinc­ tualist theories, which decry the "popu lation bomb , " biologica l " limits t o growth , "

or

the genetic " territorial imperative" which

supposedly u ndergirds private property . The social theory of in ­ dividualistic liberalism h as not, therefore, by any means en t i re l y

disappeared , nor has the resort to an t i-indiv idualistic theories w h ich cannot d i spe nse w i th its rationalistic view of human action. This collectivist solution to the U tilitarian dilemma , moreover , continues to be motivated by the destabili zing crises of Western social life , crises that demand extra-individual explanations.

We can see now what Parsons accomplished. H e developed a

model in purely ana ly tical and theoretical terms, yet with this model

he was able to dem onstrate t h e i n tellectual underpi nn ings of the

ideological challenges to reason and freedom about which he had

earlier complained . T hus , the instinct theories which he describes as one unsati!'>factory response to the C tilitarian dilemma clearly refer, on the other hand, to the Social

Darwinian i deology of

competitive capitalism which so destabilized late nineteenth-century

and early twentieth-century society a nd , on the o t her, to the fascist

movements which sought to address this instabi l ity in the period

between the wars . Sim ilarly, the en vironmental theories which sought to resolve the " U tilitarian di lemma" by emphasizing external

and

conditiona l contro l s , and which

and i ndividuality

in

a

by doing so

threatened reason

differen t way . c learly correspond to the

Communist regi m e bei n g devel oped in Russia, which

was

a different

kind of response to growing "bourgeois" instability . Parsons has

succeeded in showing that the so c i al developments which th reatened liberalism had theoretical di mensions. The " U tilitarian d il e mma

"

in theory was an e x istential dilemma as well . Parsons has linked

this l iberal cirsis to the "theoretical logic" of n ineteenth-century

liberal theory. What is h i s theoretical alternative?

To overcome these theoretical challenges to reason and freedom , the roles of human agenc y , interpretati on , and moral standards

must be restored . But th is cannot be done, Parsons believes, simply

by emphasizing t h e traditional individualism of liberal theory , for

it was the la t t e r s naivete which ha d promoted the very hyperstruc7 '

tural , rationalistic i d ea s that must now be overcome . The corre �t

28

Pa rsons' First Syn thesis

path is to acknowledge social structure in a way that does not threaten subjectivity and freedom. This can be done only if Util­ itarian assumptions about action are changed when its position on order is revised.

If

nonrational action is recognized as s i gnificant,

then moral and normative elements can themselves be seen as o r ganized structures or "systems." On the one hand , these sub­ jective systems act " over and above" any specific individual , creating supra-individual standards against which reality must be judged. O n the other hand, such systems have an inti mate relation to agency , interpretation , and subj ectivity , for the " structure" they embody can be reali zed only through effort and the pursuit of individual ends . Remember , according to Parsons' abstract schema, human agency is inseparable from the act of interpreta tio n .

Constructing such a "voluntaristic structuralis m " wo uld am ount to a theoretical revolution against the dominant strand of nine­ teenth-century thought. This revolutionary intent is precisely what Parsons attributes to the classical theorists he exa m ines in The

Structure of Socia l Action.

Weber and Durkheim are foremost among

them . These theorists, Parsons demonstrates through detailed ex­

egesis of their work , discovered the significance of no r mative order

. and, in the process, established the possibility for a m o re volun­

taristic sociology . Their "voluntaristic theo ry of action " - the name which Parsons gives th is new approach-interrelates norms and values, and therefore human agency and effort, with the unalterable , coercive conditions opposin g them . While acknowledging that there must always be a push for efficie n cy , this new theo ry insists that this push is always mediated by a variety of norms. Only such a voluntaristic theory , Parsons believes, can provide the basis for a stable , humanistic, and democratic society . I ndividual i ntegrity and reason are recogn i zed but not in a naive way, for in contrast to the restri cted vision of nineteenth-century liberalism both are themselves treated as part of the process of a broader, social control . If this idea reminds us of the Protestant theory of self-control and congregational as opposed to institutio nal religious

organization , it is hardly an accident. Parsons' family was steeped

in Congregationalism and it is certainly from the P uri tan m il ieu of American society that Parsons' theory emerged . The " voluntarist theory of actio n , "

then, contains

both

a mora l vision and an

Pa rsons · First Synthesis

29

analytical structure. The revision o f classical liberalism that Parsons

carried out in Structure contained a theoretical system pregnant

with ideological implications. Though the " scientist" in him rec­ ognized only the theory, it was to be Parsons' life work to flesh

both these implications out.

Analytical ly and ideologically , Parsons' model has been the initial reference point for every major movement of contemporary soci­ ological theory . Each movement, we will see, has developed i ts own u nderstanding of what this early model was. I ,.,.· ill argue at many

points in the pages following that they often "got i t wrong, " that contemporary theoretical movements have either misunderstood this original theory or strategically misinterpreted its central parts . This said, a vital poin t must be acknowledged. I t i� difficult to comprehend Parsons' early work because Parsons h imself was not

entirely certain of his proposal, n or of h is objections to the theories it was designed to replace.

There are three major, fateful ambiguities in this early work .

I

will consider each of them separately , although we will eventually see that they are interconnected.

The first concerns the status of the Utilitarian solution to order

and the meaning of Parsons' alternative, his "voluntaristic theory . "

Parsons rightly rejects a purely rationalistic alternative to individ­ ualism or. the grounds that it denies the volun tary elemen t , and

he insists on many occasions in Structu re

that he i s

proposing

a

multidimensional alternative which combi n es both voluntarism and constraint. Yet there are a l so m any occasions when Parsons h i m self slips into a n either/or approach to the order proble m . When he

does so he argues not only that rationalist theory must be replaced by a theory that gives more consideration to subjectivity but , much more one-sidedly, that the rationalistic element of action must

completely give way to the non rational or normative element. For example , i n his conclusion to Structu re, h e suggests the following: The solution of the power question . . . involves a common reference to the fact o f integration of individuals with ref­ erence to a com mon value system, manifested in the legitimacy

of insti tutional

norms, in the common u l ti mate ends of actio n ,

in ritual a n d in various modes o f expression . All o f these

phenomena may be referred back to a single emergent prop-

Pa rsons ' First Syn thesis

30

erty of social action systems which may be called "common value integration . " S This statement i s troubling in a number of ways. By t h e · · power

question , " of course, Parsons refers to one kind of determinate "condition" stressed by the rationalistic alternative to U tilitarian individualism , a stress which acknowledges that there must be some supra-individual force in society . But why is a "common" value system referred to as the only solution to the power question rather than simply "value systems" as such? Moreover, can the power problem ever be " solved"? Should it not , instead , be considered as an empirical fact of collective life , a fact that in evitably makes i nstrumental motives

a

permanent element in every society? Parsons

seems to be proposing here a pu rely voluntaristic theory .

It is

revealing, in this respec t , that he spends much more of h i s time in Structure attacki n g the U tili tarian approach to collective order than he does criticizi n g the purely ideal ist one.

This ambiguity is not something that appears only in the final steps of Parsons' argument. The passage

I

have just quoted shows

that Parson s is tryi n g to replace instrumental w ith normative action

rather than to synthesi ze the two . In Part One of Structu re, a crucial

passage indicates that he is tempted to m a ke the same either /or

case for the problem of order as w el l . " O rder , " Parsons writes , " m eans that process takes place in conformity with the cause laid down in the normative system " .4 I nstead of treating order as a generic problem referring to collective patterns per se, Parsons here distin gu ishes normative from factual order and equates a truly

collective order with the former alone . There is, in fact, a promi nent strand of Parsons' argument in Structure which insists that instru­

mental approaches to order a re not really solutions at all , that

order can only be achieved through normative control. This strand , of course, contradicts the multidimensional perspective which in o ther strands of his argument he so forcefu l l y presented .

This tendency toward idealism indicates a fundamental ambiguity

on the presuppositional level of Parsons' wor k . T here are also potential problems in terms of his ideological commitments and ' Parsons, p. 768. • Parsons, p. 92.

Pa rsons' Fi rst Sy1 thesis

31

his

descriptions of more empirical proce!'>ses. Pan-.ons often conflates order in the sense of collective patterning with order in the sense of social consensu!'> versus social conflict. Notice how in the first passage I have quoted above Parsons talks about ' ' legitimate" norms, a "common" value system, and the need for t he "inte gration" of individuals. Yet one could grant Parsons that normative order is terribly significant, indeed an undeniable factor in the relationship between individuals, without claiming for a moment that all the individuals in any give n collectivity or so c i e t y share the sa m e n or­ mative com m i tments or, further, t h at the norms they do share are politically legitimate ones . Parsons is wrong here to i de n t i fy normative agreement with social cohesion and consensus. T h is is an illegitimate conflation of relatively autonomous theoretical levels. l\ormative agreement within one group of actors m ay lead them to promote social confl ict and increase social instability. When Parsons denies that material factors represent an acceptable version of collective o rder he is practicing theoretical conflation in a similar w a y : he argues not t h a t material forces are astructural but that the structures they produce are associated with the struggle for existence and even with chaos. He has equated presuppositional argument (the proble m of order as pattern) with empirical assertion (that material structures lead to conflict) . I n regard to the latter, empirical contention , moreover, ,

Parsons seems certainly m istaken . In the history o f h u man civili­

zation coercion has often been very effective in creating orderly social behavior , patterns that o ften have been far from precarious. But I have said that this conflati on also involves ideology. If the presupposition s of Parson s' theory really are lin ked to soc i a l stability rather than to conflict , then they m ust be judged conservative and anti·egal itarian. To allow for the systematic analysis of change and conflict is not necessarily democratic or liberal, but to deny the very possibility for such analysis doe s , in fact , imply an antide· mocratic stance. These three central problems- presuppositional , empi rica l , and ideological-are illuminated by Parsons' problematic definition of the field of sociolo gy . His m u l ti d i m ensional theory w ould seem to indicate that sociology, and each of the other social science disci­ plines, must b e concerned with the interplay of norms and con

-

Pa rsons ' First S)'nthesis

32

ditions. How, then, in his conclusion to Structure, can Parsons make

the following statement? " Sociology may . . . be defined as the ' science which attempts to develop an analytical theory of social action systems insofar as these systems can be understood in terms of the property of common value integration . '

"�

Why should

sociology limit itself to the study of common value integration alone? The thrust of Parson's multidimensional model would seem to argue against this restrictive special i zation. O nce again, we are forced lO recognize in Parsons' work a narrow , idealist strand. H ere lies the paradox of Parsons' first great book . On the one hand , he has forcefully gone beyond individualistic theory , pro­ ducing a brilliant analytical scheme with the potential for integrating different traditions and for ending sectarian intellectual strife . At the same time, however, side by side with this synthetic model one finds a more idealistic and one-sided stance, a model that implies a Hight from the real conditions of modern society rather than a serious attempt to confront them.

We shall see that this paradoxical quality created enormous

problems in the reception of Parsons' work . Anticipating my dis­ cussion of this reception , two other problems in Structure should

be mentioned, since they , too, became references in the later critical

debate . They are not , to my mind, so much m istakes as they are limited emphases wh ich undermine the generality of Parsons' book . The first concerns the status of what Parsons called the concrete, or empirical, individual . One of Parsons' major points, you will recall , was to demonstrate that one could account for collective order wi thout eliminating subjectivity. This subjectivity, which is the source of Parsons ' voluntaristic theory , is not the same as

individuality in a free w i l l , or analytical sense. Voluntarism cannot

be based on the theory of free will; social order places great constraints on the exercise of individualism in th is radical sense. Individualism in this analytic , or theoretical, sense must be over­ com e . But empirical individualism , the notion that social structures are based on the actions of real , living, breathing actors, remains. Empirical i ndividuals

do

exercise free will , or agency, though they

do so within great socia l constraints . Parsons never intended to s

Parsons, p. 768.

Pa rsons ' First Syn thesis

33

eliminate h uman agency , or free w i l l , in t h is more restricted sense . H uman agen cy is what allowed Parsons to differentiate the com­ ponents of collective life , to develop the contrast between condi­ tions , means, and ends, and to illuminate the manner in which normative interpretation is brought i n t o play . Indeed, it is reveal ing

that in his descrip t ive justification of the components of the unit

act Parsons e m phasi zed tem po rality , for temporality is, as Parsons clearly realized, the fundamental reference poi nt for the most i ndividualistic, " agentic" ph ilosophy of the twentieth century, Hei­ degger's existential phe nomenology . It is the utterly conti n gent quality of t ime that allows Parsons to differentiate subjecti v e from

objective elements. " For purposes of definition , " he write s , ' ' the act must ha ve a n 'end,' a future state of affa irs toward which the process of action is oriented . " I t must b e i n itiated i n a " situation" o f which the trends of developmen t differ in one or more important respects from the state of affairs to which the action is oriented , the end .

. . . An "act" is always a p rocess in time . The time cate gory is basic to the scheme. The concept "en d " always i m plies a fu tu re reference , to a state which is either not yet in existen ce and which would not com e into existence if some t h i n g w ere not done about it by the a c tor or, if a l ready existent, would not remain unchanged .6 ,

To focus on institutions or on systemic patterns does not, there­ fore , deny free will and contingency. It would be perfectly legiti m a te

an analytic empirical i n di viduals and the proces ses

for collectivist theory-which den ies i ndividualism in s e nse

-

to focus on concrete

t h rou gh which they construct their own contingent version s of social order . In pri nciple, Parsons is arguing not agains t the im­

portance of the empirical individual but a gainst individualism as

an a nal ytic position , a position which , he believes, conceives indi­ viduals in an asocial way .

Collectivist theory, this reasoning impl ies, can just as well take a microsociological as macrosociological form. In the former, it can explore the relations of actual individuals, the role 6

Parsons, pp. 44-45.

of "effort"

34

Pa rsons ' Fi rst Syn thesis

and "interpretation" in the ongoing construction of a given social pattern. As a macrosociology, by contrast, collectivist theory ab­ stracts from these elements and studies the "noncontingent" (though not unchanging) elements of order in themselves, either as norms or conditions . Parsons ma kes an empirical choice for macrosociology . He studies large sca le systems and not actors. Yet, though h is theory does not preclude an emp i ri ca l focus on individuals, its empirical focus appears, on the surface , to mili ta te against it. This appearance becomes central in the later debates over his work . The last probl e m l would like to consider concerns the a bst ra ction of Parsons' theoretical e nt erprise . Parsons states quite cle a rl y in Structure that he wants to develop a theory of analytical elements, that is, a theory which defines elements a bstrac tl y rather than in relationship to a historically speci fic period of time or a specific em p i r ical situation. H e will leave su c h a " concrete spe c ifi ca t ion to other thinkers and other occasions. In fact, in his later work Parsons himself often carries much of this specification out. But in Structure he focuses on presuppositions and general models, not on propo s itions or even on concepts which are sp eci fi c enough to have an immediate empi ri ca l reference . :\either does Parsons dis­ cuss methodology or attem p t to explain any particu lar situation . He leaves ope n , in other words , th e character of the real world in factually detailed terms. This br ac k e ti ng of the concrete a nd historically specific also proved to be an e norm o us frustrat ion for many of the t h eo r i s ts who followed him . What happened to The Structure of Social .4ction ? At first , its author's rather recondi te voice was hardly heard, except by the immediate circle of Harvard graduate students (who were te r ribly impressed!). A fter World War I I , however, the book emerged as a powerful document in creatin g a new theoretical tradition. As I have already mentioned, the conditions leading up to this war , and the war itself, provoked a massive intellectual migration from Eu­ rope to the U nited States, a migration which helped establish sociology d epartments in eastern universities like Harvard and Columbia . This i nstitutional factor , along with the ot he r factors I spoke about earlier, undermined the prestige of the empirical, home-grown , " American sociology" of the Chicago school. Harvard and Columbia took Ch i c a go s place. It was P a rson s who dominated -

"

'

Pa rson s ' First Sn1 thesis

35

Harvard after \�'orld War I I and h is students, like Merton and Barber, who created the theoretical character of Columbia. As American sociology became the center of prestige and power in Western sociology , Parsons and H arvard became the center of American sociology in turn. The postwar period, which extended through the middle of the 1 960s, represented one of the most stable and optimistic periods in Western history. During those postwar years it looked as if the integrity of the individual were finally safe and that reason would eventually prevail. Consensual , stable democracies seemed to be the order of the day, and coercion and conflict within Western countries appeared to be decreasing. These internal developments were reinforced by the climate of foreign affairs. Rather than disrupti ng domestic stability, the capitalist/communist conflict was now projected outward on the international plane. T h e hostility generated by the Cold War made Marxism-the major inheritor of collectivist C tilitarianism-a dirty word. It was in this flushed and confident period of Western democratic expansion that Parsons developed his mature sociological theory , which he called "struc­ tural-fu nctionalism. "

L E C T U RE T H R E E

ST R U C T U R A L ­ F U N CT I O N A L I S M

P

A R S O I\ S ' F I R S T B O O K dealt with extremely ge neral

and abstract-presuppositional-questions . His professed in­ tention was to integrate the instrumental and idea l ist tra­

ditions, synthesizing pure voluntarism with pure coercion theory by developing a general schema that would mark the beginning of a new "postclassical" sociological theory . This theory , he hoped, w ould lay the basis for the restoration of the autonomous individual and would place human reason on firmer ground; in doi n g so, it would contribute not only to the restoration of Western social theory but to Western society i tself. In light of these multiple goals, it s hould not be suprising that in the years after

1 9 37 Parsons

devoted himself to a series of empirical essays directed toward the practical problems of the day , applying his theory to the social crisis of the interwar period and to the Western struggle against fascism . These essays push the general and abstract schema of Structure in a much more specific and empirical direction . They developed a " model" of society as a functioning system , and they articulated a number of concepts, definitions, and propositions w hich greatly clarified the implications of Parsons' general thinking for the practical , " real world ." 1 This m iddle period in Parsons' work culminated with two book-length theoretical statements pub­ lished in

1 95 1 , which sought to combine this new specificity with

a return to a high level of abstract generalization. With Edward

Shils, Parsons wrote "Values, Motive s , and Systems of Action , " and he wrote The Social System-perhaps h i s most famous work-him1 In terms of the scientific continuum on P . 0, above, Parsons work

" ' r i ghtward" in this post- 1 9 3 7 period .

now moved

S tructu ra 1-Functionalism

37

selP M y discussion today draws on both these works. Only in my next lecture wil l

I

exami n e the empirical essays wh ich actually

preceded them . In this way , we will be able to place the empirical essays inside the general theory which emerged from this middle period of Parsons' career. The first thing that strikes us about the theory of this middle

period is that Parsons has encountered Freud . In The Structure

of

Social Action, Parsons ar gued that Weber and Durkh eim had created no r mative theories which allowed a voluntaristic stance. He uses

Freudian th eory to add more detailed and convincing evidence

about the nature of thi s voluntaristic or d er . W hat he learns from Freud is a new way of theorizing the relation between subject and

object, which Freud approached in his theory of the supereg o .

Parsons " goes beyond" Freud by extending t h i s superego theory

to the entire range of relationships between an actor and his social objects . I n his theory of superego formation , Freud suggested that " cath­ exis"-his technical term for affection or love-leads an actor, a subject, to identify with the object of his love; further , he suggested that t h i s identification leads to the introj ection , or internalizatio n , o f t h e object b y t h e actor . T h e young child, Freud believed , focuses his affection on objects who are sources of great pleasure , usually his parents. The ch ild, in other words, cathec t s his parent . Because

this deep

of

cathe x i s , the

ch ild

identifies with his

parent, that

is,

he sees himself a s l i ke th is parent in crucial ways. T h i s identification

causes certain aspects of the cathected person to b ecome introj ected into the c h ild' s personality . Key parts of the parent's character actually become part of the child's self. T h ese i ntrojected qualities

are the or igin of the superego, locus of the moral sensibility within children . What Parsons found extraordinary about this theory of superego development was the way in which it provided new evidence to support his criticisms of nineteenth-century liberal t h eory. Freud demonstrated that after t h e earliest stages of personal ity develop2

Talcott Parsons and Edward

A.

Svstems of Action," Theory of A.ction (Kew York: Harper Parsons, The Social Systnn (New York: Free

Shils, "Values, M otives , and

in Parsons and Shils, eds. , Tuwards a Grneral

1 95 1 ), 1 951 )

and Row ,

Press,

.

pp. 4 7 - 2 7 5 ; Talcott

38

Structura l-Fun ctionalism

ment external reality ("conditions" in Parsons' vocabulary) is always mediated by moral expectations (Parsons' "norms"). Parsons takes this theory of superego formation, in other words, as the proto­ typical explanation for the internalization of norms. In doing so he takes Freud much further than he himself wanted to go, for Parsons claims that infants cathect external objects from the very beginning of their lives. Identification, introjection , and internali­ zation ensue almost from birth, ensuring that every element of the self is a social one. Parsons has taken Freud ' s brilliant insight into the process of superego formation and generalized it, convertin g it into one aspect of his overarching theory. According to Freud , once the superego is formed people model every authority they encounter on th e internalized authority of their parents. According t o Parso ns , this internalization does not apply simply to authority: few objects are ever encountered by a person without his havin g had some previous experience of things " like" them . The existence of external objects is usually guided , therefore, by internalized models about what they should be . Of course, there is always a first time for a new kind of object , yet durin g this first encounter these objects invariably become the basis for cathexis and internalization . In Parsons ' and Shils' words, "obj ects, by the significance and cathexes attached to them, become organized into the actor's system of orientations . " � When w e see a woman , a man, o r a student, o r even a chair, a classroom, or a fight, we never really see these obj ects as external to ourselves-unless, of course, we are encountering such things for the very , very first time in our lives, and even then only small parts of them will be really new . I nstead, Parsons suggests, we encounter these objects as in crucial ways already familiar ones, encountering them, as it were, from "within" rather than from "without. " This is so because we already have internalized expec­ tations (norms) about what such objects or situations will entail . If this were not so , Parsons believes, if we lived with and encountered completely unfamiliar objects, then we would have no intuitive u nderstanding of the world in which we live. Utilitarian theory­ would be right: objects would be external to us and we could act toward them only in an impersonal , instrumen tal, mechanistic way. ! Parsons and Shils, p. 5 4 .

Structu ra l-Fu n ctiorwlism

39

Parsons' reinterpretation of introjection and internalization sug­ gests that childhood generalization should be seen as critical not only to the construction of the self but to the formation of society . These considerations , in turn, point to the relationship between socialization and cultural values on the one hand, and to the relationship between socialization and social "objects" on the other. It was undoubtedly this line of thinking that led Parsons to develop, during th is same period, his crucially important model of the three different systems of action: personal ity , society , and culture. Personality systems, social systems, and cultural systems are an­ alytic distinctions, not concrete ones. They correspond to different l evels or dimensions of all social l i fe , not to disti nct physical entities. Any concrete entity-a person , a social situation, an institution­ can be understood in terms of each of th ese dimensions ; each exists in all three systems at once. Indeed, Parsons uses the distinction to argue for the interpenetration of the individual self, his social objects , and the society's cultural values . The personality , Parsons reason s , refers to the need dispositions of the individual person . These need dispositions are a combination of organic and emotional needs , and they become organized into an individual "identity" through the process of socialization, through the individual 's evolving experience with society . This personali ty level is the source of a distinctive and unique self. Sti l l , it does not imply an individual self in the atom istic sense of U tilitarianism. Although the physical separateness of individuals from one another may contribute to such an impression , Parsons warns us that this is an i llusion. Physiological differentiation does not correspond to social or cultural differentiation . The personality is a distinct level of social life, and it does connote the uniqueness of the person. But this uniqueness is itself the product of an encounter with society. The social system level refers to the interaction between different personalities or, in c ommonsense terms, to the interdependence of people . But remember, this is a presuppositional point, not a directly empirical one . Although the social system is the level of interaction, this may be interaction of a cooperative or antagonistic sort. I ndeed, i nteraction means there is more than one person , and whenever we have two or more people we are faced with the problem of

40

Structural-Functionalism

the distribution of goods. The social system , then , is subject to the pressures of scarcity and organization. It includes a range of in­ stitutions and structures whose "function" it is to deal with scarcity and to provide organization , imperatives which in their turn raise the issues of legitimacy and justice. Finally , there is the cultural system. Culture does not refer to the need dispositions in people, nor to the nature of actual inter­ actions, but rather to broad symbolic patterns of meaning and value. Cultural patterns inform specific interactions and need dis­ positions but there is always a gap between the generality of a cultural value and the particular way its meaning becomes for­ mulated by a society or a personality . The differentiation between levels of culture, society, and per­ sonality can be illustrated if we consider the symbolic value "lib­ erty . " This implies a commitment by the cultural system, let us say, to the ideal that individuals should have freedom . As such, it is an extremely general and diffuse commitment which may be shared by societies and personalities that differ in many ways. In terms of social system organization , the level of specific institutions, we can think of a number of different organizational patterns which attempt to produce economic liberty. Early capitalist society em­ phasized one kind of liberty , particularly the liberty to buy and sell . Later welfare-state capitalism organized liberty in a different way, emphasizing the freedom of less powerful people to control their own movements and resources. In the earlier phase of cap­ italism freedom was more accessible to the upper classes , whereas the i n creased freedom which later capitalism provided for lower income groups comes at the expense of restrictions on owners property . My point is that both kinds of social system organization are consistent with the more general cultural commitment to liberty. If we move down to the even more specific level of the personality , the same relative autonomy of these systems obtains: "liberty" can become a need disposition for the personality in a number of different ways. It could, for example, be articulated by a strongly disciplined personality with strict superego controls. In this case , freedom becomes a matter of self-discipline and purposeful control . Yet a personality could also act "freely" by responding to spon­ taneous needs for sexual expression. Each of these need dispositions,

41

Structu ral-Functionalism

in turn, could be further specified in different ways, for example, they could be either selfish or altruistic. The analytic autonomy of these levels should not blind us to the fact that there is almost always some correspondence between them . The organization of scarce resources must be affected by the universe of meanings upon which people draw to understand the world, and the personalities which people develop m ust be based upon the social and cultural objects which are available for inter­ nalization . Symbolic ideals about freedom, then , tend to occur alongside social systems capable of allowing freedom , and both symbols and societies typicall y interrelate with personality systems capable of acting in a "free" way. Yet if we look at the history of Western societies, an d at de­ veloping societies in the process of m odern i zation to day we see that the analytical levels of culture, society, and personality often correspond to uneven levels of empirical development, and that rather than complementary i nterrelationships there is strain and disequilibriu m . In the eighteenth century, for example, significant areas of French intellectual life (part of the cultural system) became influenced by the ideal of freedom . Yet equally si gnifi c an t areas of the social system remained organized in feudal and aristocratic structures which denied political and econom ic freedom to those very sections of the society most culturally committed to it. This incom patibility might be one way of conce p tualizing the origins of the French Revolution . Or to take another historical example, a small religious group, the English Puritans , encouraged the for­ mation of personalities which, in turn, fostered autonomy and disciplined &elf-control. Yet nei ther the culture nor the social system of seventeenth-century England was organized in a way that was complementary with this psychological asceticism. How was this empirical incompatibility resolved? The Puritan personality grad­ ually changed the English cultural climate to m ake it more consistent with cultural asceticism . This cultural change also contributed to fundamental reorganization in the social system . In many developing societies today , one can see powerful cultural commitments to modernity-sometimes to freedom, sometimes to equality-yet one often finds precious little ability to realize these ideals in social system terms, or, &ometimes, on the level of per,

42

Structu ml-Fu nctional ism

sonality. On the other hand, modernizing societies often have the social system resources to realize a given cultural value, for example, they may have established fine centers of higher education. Yet this social system capacity might occur without cultural patterns that are strong enough to make this higher education seem valuable or necessary. The differentiation between culture , personality, and society, then, allows one to appreciate the interpenetration of individual and society even while it highlights the fact that the links between socialized individuals, psychologically affected societies, and social­ ized cultures may actually be quite precarious. This notion of precarious interrelation brings us to the issue of Parsons' systemic model of social (as opposed to psychological or cultural) life . This is the heart of his early structural-functional theory . I n what remains of today's lecture, I will examine this model in a highly simplified form, as the paradigm of interaction and social roles. Parsons believes that the social system should not be concep­ tualized in terms of material structures or institutions but, instead, as a complicated series of social " roles." Roles are impersonal social niches which consist of obligations to perform in specific ways. The material structures, insti tutions, and organizations of society , he believes, are significant not for themselves but for the kinds of roles which they provide . These abstract yet quite definite role obligations are , of course, themselves the products of different pressures and resources. I will speak about these pressures and resources later. For now, let us simply acknowledge, with Parsons, that roles exist, for example, that "teacher" is a real role in the social system with definite obligations attached to it. Such a role is neither the simple product of personality, nor the automatic emanation of culture. It is a detailed set of obligations for inter­ action in the real world. It is, in other words, part of the social system . Now, how can such a role be understood in terms of a voluntaristic theory? How can it be u nderstood in a manner that does not make it seem to be something completely outside of the actors who obey i t? According to Parsons' three-system model, personality needs should more or less complement the role requirements of the social system. In the case of our teacher, his or her personality needs

45

Structu ral-Fu nctio na I ism

Finally, this role sequencing and need-d isposition coordination

will obviously be facilitated if there are widespread common values

and an internally consistent culture . If our earlier role participations and our present ones can be referred to a common culture , then

the meanings that we attach to our l i fe experience will be more

coherent, reinforcing our commitme n t to the role we are expected

to perform now. This, again, is not as easy as it seems, for an

individual passes through roles in a wide range of economically ,

political ly, and geographically separated institutions . For the cul­

tural system to work most effectively, all of these participations s h ould be capable of being understood as deriving from culture . To the degree they can not,

a

common

the meanings attached to

sequential obligations will be con fl icti n g and it v.·ill be harder for

people to maintain their role commitments. This will be true, moreover, even if there is obj ectively coordinated role sequencing

(th e integration of roles with the social system) and perfect com­

plementarity be tween roles and psychosexual needs (integration with the personality) . The lack of shared culture will create conflict

because it means

that subjective orientatio n s to roles may not

correspond effectively with objective d e mands . To consider a con ­

crete example, the process of socia l mobility requires s ignificant

movement among people who begin their life in one part of the

stratification system , in one class or statu s group , and rise or fall to anoth er. I f culture is s i gn ifica ntly differen t in

one

part of

the

stratification system as c om pa red to another, this social mobility will cause serious d i sruption in effective role participation .

In the social system of advanced indust rial societies there are a

vast number of social role s w h ich must be " produce d " and "co­ ordinated." At a large university , for exampl e , there may be

2,000

teachers. These teachers may have come from all corners of the

earth , yet they must have experienced sufficiently similar s ociali ­ zation experiences for them to have i n itially accepted the same

social role. Yet th i s is only the be g i n n i ng of the role coordination

demanded by a large and complex i nstitution . There must, further,

be processes which allow these teaching roles to be specialized and interrelated. T eachers, moreover ,

must interact with others in

substantially d ifferent roles, w ith secretaries, s taff, custodians , with publishers, editors, sal esmen , and, not least of all, with s tudents.

Structu ra l-Functionalism

44

Role seque nci ng must be coordinated at the levels of soc iety person al it y , and culture. The roles a single person assumes are offered by different parts of the soc ial system at different times. Early role s are offered by fam i l y , later roles by friendship g rou ps over which the family has l i tt le control a nd by i n stituti o ns often far removed from both family and fr i ends h i p groups, institutions like schools and governments. Yet t h ese di fferent roles must be carefull y sequenced a n d coordinated ; in as much as they are ex­ perienced as contrad ictory and abrupt, the in d ivi du a l will n ot be able to i n ternalize them . At first g l a n ce such coor d i nati on seems incon c eivable. We are not, a fte r all , talk i n g merely about one or two peop le for w h om sequences must be e s tabl i sh ed but abou t the simultaneous performance of an extraordinary n u mbe r of different role s The overwhelming quality of the coordination which is needed demonstrates in Pa r so n s view, h ow l u d i c r o usl y inadequate indi­ vidualistic views of order must be. T h e coordi n a t i o n of such i n tricate rol e s e q ue n ci n g can only go on "over our h e ads . It is the product of a system, more precisely the social system . Social controls whi le rest i n g on i ndividual decisions, a ggregate th ese dec i s i ons through processes of coo rdin a ti on which no s i ngle individual can co mpr e­ hend, much less direct. To be effective, this role seque n c i n g must , in turn , be coordinated with the development of need d i spos i t i on s in t h e personality. To p ro vi de a s i mp l e and rath e r crude example, you ca n n o t be asked to engage in ab s tra ct intellectual work, like s tu d yi n g for several hours at a time, un l ess your infa n tile oral needs are o v ercome! S i m i la r ly young peop le cannot be as k e d to perform i mpo rtan t l ea dersh ip roles in the society u n ti l they have gone th rough the final Oedipal stage, which means that their psychological conflicts with aut h o rity a re at least partly resolved. Social system inducem ents for m ar r i a ge and family-rearing c a nn ot be p h a sed in before the p sycho l ogic a l capac ity for ge n it a l sex ual i ty is provided . These re­ quirements seem at fi rs t gla n c e utterly m und a n e and sim pl e I have chosen the easiest illustrations I can i ma g i n e . But if one consi d ers the enormous coordination requ ire d if psychosexual de­ velopmen t is to coincide with r o l e sequ e n c i ng one can ce r tainly appr ec ia t e h ow this constitutes ov erw h el m ing evidence for the extra-individual , syste mic order in g of social life. ,

.

,

'

"

,

,

"

..

-

,

"

"

Structu ral-Fu n ctionalism

43

should

correspond to the demands and obligations established by the teacher role. As P ar son s and Shils put it , " t h er e must be a fu n dam ental correspondence between the actor's own sel f- cate go­ rizations or 'self-image' and the place he o ccu p i es in the category system of the soci ety of which he is a part."4 T h i s correspondence so u n ds a s if it were ut te rl y s i m p l e , b u t it real l y is not. Y o u a n d I know many persons whose persona li ty needs do not correspond with the roles they play : teachers who don't want to teach, who feel they are not q ual ifi ed or have developed different cu l tura l goals . For these teachers , their role commitment is incompatible with their psychological or cultural commitments. I ncompatibility between system levels pr od uces strains which all so c i e t i es strive to resolve . Discontented teachers m ay quit; they may be " resocialized" by the sch ool ; they may be threatened through d i sc ip l i n e ; they may sometimes be fired. O ft e n , of course,

the strain simply contin ues to ex ist with continuing disequi librium the result. How does

think such disequ ilibrium can-at least in avoided? How can role obligation s , personal ities, and c u l tu r a l ideals be coordinated by the social system? In the first place, there is u sually a subtle co rre spo n dence establi shed between the roles that are offered by the social system and the socialization paths that are laid out for every individual in that society . How does one go from being an infant to being a teacher? There are closely coordinated, gradually shifting roles in wh ich the prospective tea cher will participate, a sequence e x t en d in g from infant to to dd l er to child to student and , beyond that (depe n d i n g on the family Parsons

principle-be

situation) to o lder sibli n g , adolescen t , o lder student, adult. This

role seq u e n c e intersects with others , for example, the one that extends from peer group member to citizen, voter, and activist and the sequence tuto r , graduate student, teaching assistant , app ren tice , schola r , teacher. Each of these roles is a s ou rce of personal identity, and each must be finely tuned to m eet psychological needs at each sequence. Yet roles cannot only be sou r ces of self-identity, for they must also be related to the soci a l system. The growing person inter n a l i ze s d i stinctive social capabilities w i th each new stage of personal identity. 4

Parsons

and Shils. p .

1 47 .

46

Structural-Functionalism

Each of these other roles depends, in i ts turn, on precise role sequencing if it is to be satisfactorily performed. Finally , whether or not it is satisfying to i ts occupants, the social system of the university m ust provide ways of coordinating each one of these roles with every other. To take just one small slice of this enormous role complex, think for a m oment about what is required for a consistent and mutually satisfactory relationship between student and teacher to take place . First, the preparation for each of our roles must be coordinated, preparation which, I have indicated, involves the personality , cul­ ture, and social systems. Then, in the particular institution of which these roles are a part, the university, we need available to us a wide range of complementary resources, options, and sanctions . There are wide ranges of options to choose from : large classes or small, tight or loose grading systems , exams versus papers, to name only a few. These choices and their coordination are certainly made easier if there are strongly institutionalized cultural expectations in the university, so that no matter what our backgrounds and no matter what the resources provided we will expect much the same kind of thing. This issue of socialization into the local intellectual culture is, of course, completely separate from the other kinds of socialization involved, socialization which produces commitments, for example, to the occupational and student roles as such and to broad cultural patterns, like language, which are not role specific. Clearly, Parsons sees the social world as an enormously compli­ cated place. But there is still more in store! Parsons places his analysis of this complexity under the rubric of a simple question which became extremely controversial . How can all this be coor­ dinated so that it works "perfectly"? By working perfectly , Parsons refers to smoothness of operation, to the possibility that soc ial life could be in a state of perfect equilibrium and cooperation , like a frictionless machine. Parsons uses this equilibrium , or harmony , as an abstract standard by which to judge the requirements of society. Critics have suggested that this criterion creates an illegitimate bias in his work. Parsons maintained, to the contrary, that the equilib­ rium concept simply makes it easier to see what "went wrong" w hen we study a situation of empirical conflict. He insisted that he was postulating equilibrium only as an abstract model , not as a

Structuwl-Fu nctiona lism

47

set of more specific commitments which actually describe the nature of empirical realit}' · The model of a frictionless machine, of course, can indeed be u sed to study the resistances and eventual breakdowns caused by friction in the real world. The image of a perfec tl y coordinated two-person interaction , the "dyad" is, ind eed an extremely i mp or tan t one i n Parsons' middle period work. He argues that if such a dyad is to be in eq u i l i br i u m the expectations which each actor has for the interaction must perfectly complement the expectations of the other. \Vhat I wish to do in front of this classroom, for example, should fit i n perfectly with what you would l i ke to do as a student . Pa rsons refers to this as the theorem of the "complementarity of expectations," and this theorem is what Parsons has in mind when he writes about i nsti­ tutionalization. Perfect institutionalization occurs when role de­ mands from the social system complement cultural ideals and when both , in turn , meet the n eeds of the personality . In other words, what the personality needs, in the ideal case , should be the same as what the culture views as meaningfully significant, and these in turn should be matched by the resources the social system has provided for what it defines as appropriate role obligations . If there is this perfect harmony between the differen t levels of society , individual interaction will be compleme n t a ry and conflict will not occur. Parsons and Shils put the situation i n this way : "The same systems of value standards are insti tution alized i n social systems and internalized in pe no n a l i t ie s and these in turn guide the actors in terms of orientatio n s to ends a nd regulation of means. "5 I should add, finally, that in addition t o all of these structural prerequisites for eq u i li br i u m - t h e nature of role preparation and sequencing, t he coordi nation of roles w i t h i n an i nsti t u t ion the significance of common c u l t u re and the compatibility or institu­ tionalization of different levels-Parsons devotes some attention to the nature of actual role performance itself, to the empirical pro­ cesses of i nterac t io n and i ndividuality. He reco g ni z es that "contin­ gency" is a maj or issue here, that there is an open and unpred ict a ble character to any particular interaction. Another way of saying this (which refers back to Parsons' writing in The Structure of Social ,

,

,

,

' PaTSons and Shils, p. 56 .

48

Structura l-Functiona lism

Action) is simply to note that actors have free will and that action is inevitably temporal. This contingency opens up new sources of

instability. How can it be dealt with by the actors involved? Parsons insists that much can be done during the actual course of interaction itself. Participants make conscious and unconscious efforts to main­ tain a satisfying course of interaction . In order to achieve this satisfaction, they use negative sanctions and positive rewards to bring other people into line with their own needs. Any ongoing interaction between two people, or between a person and a group or institution, involves continuous sanctions and rewards. If there is perfect institutionalization , a fundamental complementarity of expectations and resources, this mutual sanctioning and rewarding will allow equilibrium to be maintained in the face of contingency . On the other hand, to the degree there is the lack of comple­ mentarity between resources or expectations this continuous sanc­ tioning and rewarding can lead to serious and disruptive social conflict, for it will serve to reinforce anti-institutional behavior. From this model of equil ibrium and its maintenance emerges Parsons' theory of deviance a nd conflict . Deviance refers to the theoretical possibility-which is an em­ pirical probability-that relat ionships between people will depart from equilibrium . To define deviance, we must go back to the notion of role complementarity , the hypothetical good match be­ tween the actor's self-image and the role definitions offered by the social system . We must also recall h ow this applies to the ideal­ typical dyad: my expectations will be your desires, your desires my expectations. Parsons' and Shils' definition of deviance as "the disjunction between role expectations and need-dispositions" now makes perfect sense. 6 Deviance occurs when the interaction between you and another, be that other a person, group, or institution, is unsatisfying to either party. This dissatisfaction can be caused by problems at any level of the institutionalization process. That there are so many facets of institutiona l ization demonstrates why deviance is so omnipresent, why complementarity in its fullest sense so rarely occurs. Once dissatisfaction has occurred, what is the result? In Parsons' view, two things happen simultaneously. First, there is the internal 6

Parsons and Shils, p. 1 5 2 .

49

Structu ra l-Fu nctionalism reaction on the part

of

the dissatisfied personality. Because there

is not enough satisfaction provided by alter, ego experiences sense of object

loss,

to

use

a

(as Parsons did) Freudia n terms, a loss

of love which results in depression or anger.

This

reaction is

med i a ted by the socialized pe rsona l ity through defense mechanisms

like adaptation , denial, and projection . This internal reaction often results in the withdrawal from role unresponsiveness

or an

obligations,

via e ither a passive

angry and rebellious attac k . Yet, alon gside

this internal personality response there is an " external" reaction on the social system level itse l f for the actor' s withdrawal means ,

that a role has not been fulfilled. In the first instance, this leads to a breakdown in soc ia l functioning, for th e

r esour ce s upon which This, of course, off further instability and conflict , as other role obligations are performed. No wonder that de v ia n ce usually provokes a whole

other sets not

roles d e pe nd

will not have bee n supplied .

range of " social control" mechani sms whose ai m is to bring the

deviant actor , group , or institution back i n to line and, thereby , to

restore equil ibrium to the syst em . The details of su c h soci al control, and a more complex v i ew

of

the social system itself,

will

be the

topics of the lecture which follows. Let me con clude the present talk by making some initial eval­ uation of the

structural-functional mode l which Parsons of his work . In principle , this model

in this middle period

pro vi d e d pro m i sed

to resolve the warring schools of classical sociology , to find a way

of in tegra t in g cultural and m a ter i a l order, to find a way of attending to the individual without underestimating the role of society . I emphasize " in principle" be c a u se in practice it was difficult for

Parsons to keep all the factors in h i s theoretical scheme both in balance and in perspective. Obviousl y , such a complicated concep­

tual scheme suppl ies n umerous opportuni ties for theoretical dis­ tortion and strain; if your general perspective incl ines you to any one-sidedness, this

c onceptu a l

apparatus gives you ample space to

do so. The " interpenetrating" quality of this for example , makes

of

it

structural-functional

model,

tempting to underemphasize t h e significance

instrumental , situational con t ro l . True, Parsons explicitly em­

role of society as compared to culture, in an equilibrium situation these systems will

phasizes the independent but he believes that

50

Structural-Fu nctionalism

"line up" and overlap. If one were at all inclined toward idealism­ and we know from our earlier discussion that Parsons is-this proposed overlap between cultural expectations and social insti­ tutions could lead one to underplay the external, objective aspects of role resources and interaction. Parsons does, indeed , talk more about the need for social system demands to mesh with culture and personality than about the need for the latter to meet the demands of objective conditions . I t may well be true that much social system structure, like the distribution of material resources and the sanctions and rewards of others, coincides with cultural values and socialized expectations. At the same time, it is extremely unlikely that there will ever be a perfect fit. There will always be some "objective world" which remains "uncovered" by common cultural obligations; this will create " scarcity" which is unmediated by subjective meanings and , therefore , coercive. If one were to analyze the sources of deviance from this structural­ functional perspective, for example , one would have to be very careful to examine the objective resources provided by social system roles, not simply variations in common culture and socialization. It is true, of course , that no matter what the objective allocation of resources there can still be complementarity between actors if the cultural system defines these existing resources as desirable. In terms of equilibrium questions, the actual distribution of wealth is irrelevant. If culture is internally coherent and widely shared, and if socialization links culture to resources in any effective way, any objective distribution may be considered just. Yet no matter how personalities and cultures are initially structured, changing objective resources can sti l l create disequilibrium. Com mon need dispositions and cultural values can create conflict. As soon as gaps appear between the distribution of role obligations and socialized need dispositions and values, the very consensus over the Iauer can create sharp conflict and upheaval . There is another possible problem, one that relates not to Parsons' tendency for idealizing his scheme but to the problem of concrete interaction and contingency . We might agree with Parsons that to look for the sources of equilibrium or deviance one would want to examine the process of institutionalization . Yet, given what Parsons has said about individuality-that every concrete person

Struc/u ral-Fu nrtiona lism is different, that each h as

a

51

unique personality-one

w

o u l d also

want to study i n depth the specific patterns of contingen t inter­

action. One might wish , in other words , to examine in much more

detail than

P a r so n s does

the strategie s which actors use to sanction

and reward one another . It seems quite likel y t hat there are defi nite

sequences and ways of ' 'keeping people in l i ne," a nd that different

ways of sancti oning and reward i n g provide fundamental resou rc e s for successful and unsuc cessful institutionalizatio n .

If this is

so , then

the individual's capacities for regulating contingent interaction should

become an obj ect of investi gation in their own right. While P arsons'

theory lea,·es open the possibility for such analysis, it never engages

it .

LECT U R E F O U R

STRU CTU RAL­ F U N CT I O N A L I SM IN IT S M I D DLE PHASE

I

N T H E B E G I N N I N G of mv lectures

Parsons I discussed The Structure of Social Action in terms of the abstract de fi nitions of action and order, and I showed how Parsons sought to use this presuppositional position to reconcile materiali sm and idealism through a "voluntaristic theory" to which he was only ambivalently committed himself. In my last lecture, on structural-functionalism in its early phase, I talked about some of the most general qualities of Parsons' structural-functional model of social life , the model with which he began to specify the abstract assumptions of his earliest work. I mentioned first the i mportance of Freud, then I discussed the "three system" model of personality-society-culture. After that, [ turned to Parsons' conception of social roles and tried to give you some idea of the elaborate processes involved in their institutionalization . From there I moved to the paradigm of concrete interaction , in which each actor is conceived as sanctioning and rewarding the other. This, in turn, led to the final discussion of deviance and social control, the analysis of what allows people to step outside of roles and what happens to them when they do. These theoretical elements gradually came into place in the years between 1 9 3 7 and 1 9 5 0 . Toward the latter part of this period, Parsons' structural-functional model took on an increasingly de­ tailed and systematic cast, a tendency which culminated, as I men­ tioned earlier, in the publication of The Social System and Toward a General The01)' of Action in 1 95 1 . Today I want to look in more detail at this social system model. After doing so, I will move down on

The ,\
53

the s c i entifi c

continuum and discuss a few of the case studies by w h ich Parsons fleshed this ge n e ral model out . Social systems, P a rs on s argues, are concerned with two things, allocation and i n tegration. A l l oca t ive processes d is t ri bute facilities, pe r son n e l, rewards. Integrative processes keep these distributive processes un der control. Allocation is concerned with production, in te gr ation w i t h pro v i d i n g p ro d u c ti o n a cush i o n and framework. Allocation focuses on mea n s and inevitably produces conflic t ; in­ tegra t ion is c o ncerned with ends and with the i nterpenetration of ends which , according to P arson s creates stability. We will see later that there are some problems with this particular way of slicing up the th eoretical pie ; nevertheless , i t is important firs t to see that ther e are distinctive a dv a n t a ges as wel l . Societies must b e concern ed w i t h allocation because o f the in­ trinsic natu re of the social-system level . I nte r act i on occurs i n social systems, and i n teraction means th a t there are at least two people i nvo lved With more than o n e person , there arises t he p r imo rdi al fact of sc arc ity : there m ust always be some division of goods . This division produces compe ti t i v e and evaluative mechan isms to see ,

.

gets what. Although specialized roles are develop ed to carry a l lo ca ti on out to h an dl e competition and perform evaluation-it who

-

is probably more interesti ng to see allocation as produ c in g impor­ ta n t dimensions of every socia l role. Since roles are the basic c om po n ent s of instilU tions, we can say that allocation and integra­ tion provid e two b a s i c sets of instructio n s around which every institution and o rgan i za t i on form. The first th i n g that mu st b e allocated, Parsons suggests , is fa­ cilities, the "means" to control the s itua t i o n i n h is tech nical sense. Such facilities are inh e r en tly scarce. Food, clothing, housing, trans­ portation , communicatio n , tools-all these may be allocated through institutional mechani sms . Parsons cal l s money and power the most ge neralized means of exch a nge and control and, therefore , t he central foci of the allocative process. M o n ey a n d power h a ve a " generalized i n s trumen tal status," they are intrinsically scarce. The allocat i on of facilities, then , is fundamen tally a matter of who gets money and power, questions influenced both by the moral, or n or mati ve criteria which are establi shed for distribution and by the external constraints which exist as barriers to their ach ievement. ,

54

The Middle Phase

It is clear, therefore, that allocative processes are not by any means simply "material," despite the fact they are organized around the problem of instrumental means. The allocation of facilities involves fundamental rules about distributing these means. Money , for ex­ ample, can be distributed by a collective agency in exchange for public services performed, as in state socialism , or it can be dis­ tributed by a competition which allows individuals to keep every­ thing they earn , as dictated by the rules of private property . Similarly, there are various ways of organizing the distribution of power. Power can be given to people on the basis of particularistic qualities like age , religious qualification , race, or personal charisma. It can also be allocated according to standardized rules, as in bureaucracies , and even , on occasion, according to the agreement of all those who are affected by power, which is the case in those few systems which have democratized power allocation . Now the facilities which are so allocated must be used. People must be brought together with facilities. This is what Parsons calls "personnel allocation . " It involves both establishing rules for the positions which handle facilities and elaborating systems which allow people to move smoothly between different positions. Parsons is talking here about training, selection , and appointment. Education is an early phase of personnel allocation . The labor m arket-the phase in which those educated people are actually "out there" looking for appropriate positions and salaries-is the phase that usually follows. As with the allocation of facilities, basic rules must be established for personnel a llocation to be carried out. Norms about age and sex seem always to be unwritten criteria for these processes, though their importance certainly diminishes with modernization . In more general terms, personnel allocation involves disputes over univer­ salism versus particularism and achievement versus ascription . Should people be judged according to standards that apply equally to everybody (universalism), or should standards be tailor-made for particular groups (particularism)? Should positions be given ac­ cording to demonstrated accomplishment (achievement) or accord­ ing to qualities that seem unique to a particular person , l ike family background, religion, or race (ascription)? Clearly, there must be a fairly dose relation between the rules that govern personnel

The JHiddJe Phase

55

processes and those that have been established to govern the al­ location of facilities. I f power is wielded according to bureaucratic rules, it would be unlikely that people will be allowed to assume positions of power on the basis of personalistic traits like family position or religion . I f a political system distributes power demo­ cratically , it will cause problems if the labor markets for political jobs are strongly affected by ascriptive criteria like inherited wealth or if the educational system socializes people in elitist and deferential ways . The third and final dimension of allocation Parsons describes is "rewards. " He has in mind here mainly a special kind of reward, the symbolic element of pres t i ge Every activity, role , and achieve­ ment in society is evaluated in terms of prestige ; for th is reason, one can say that prestige is "allocated" and that systematic criteria are invoh·ed . The same obj ect can serve both as symbolic reward and facility. As a generalized means, for example, money can be a valuable instrument to control the situation , yet at the same time "simply having money" may be considered prestigious no matter what it buys . Money, then, can be both a means (facility) and an end in itself (reward). The case of money shows, once again, how different dimensions of allocation interrelate . If money is central to facilities allocation but for cultural reasons no t valued as symbolic reward, there will probably be far fewer facilities produced for basic societal needs. Or a g a i n , i f power as a facility is allocated according to impersonal , bureaucratic rules , and the penonnel distribution for power plays down ascriptive criteria like family connections and personal qualiti es like good looks, "who you know" and how good looking you are shou ld not become significant bases of symbolic rewards. To the contrary , bureaucratic criteria like "doing a good job " and "objectivity'' should become more pres­ tigious and highly rewarded relative to personal qualities like in­ novation and imagination. The issue of rewards allocati on clearly pushes us toward the consideration of ends and away from means, toward the realms of values, culture , and personality . In Parsons' sense, prestige is the internal , voluntary element that reconciles or alienates people from the more objective allocative processes concerned \',;ith facilities and personnel . At the same time , Parsons connects the problems .

The Middle Phase

56

of ends and values with the major social task that parallels allocation, namely integration. It is, in fact, precisely with the relation of

rewards to the allocation of facilities and personnel t hat the core

of Parsons' theory of social integration is concerned.

I

will try to

explain this apparently contradictory , and poten tiall y confusing,

�ituation in the latter part of the lecture; at this point, however, I am concerned primarily with explaining the theory itself. I begin

with a striking paradox: there are a s p ec ts of social integration that

are scarcely concerned with subjective evaluation and symbolic rewards at all . Let us consider these before moving on to more subjective Cf'ncerns. Parsons introduces the problem of integration by asking what the consequences of allocation a re for the ideal-typical model of a stable system? This in itself is perfectly legitimate , for an equilibrium model does not com m i t

a

th eorist to equil ibrium i n the empirical

sense. Yet we have seen that from the very beginning of his career Parsons often confused empirical stability w i th the existence of the

cultural level as such , an equat ion that reinforced his tendency to reduce his multidimensional position to a more idealist one. When we look at Parsons' treatment of i n tegrative processes we find much the same thi n g . There is

an

ampl ified and complex treatment of

how the interplay between symbol ic rewards, personnel, and facil­ ities produces integrati o n , but th ere is hardly any consideration of the integrative problems that can arise when the more "objective" processes of facilities and person nel allocation come up against value postulate!'> which pattern the distribution of rewards . Yet, as with so much o f Parsons' work , the theoretical pote ntial of his writing exceeds his own particular appl ication of it. (in my own terms) some element!'>

in

I

will elaborate

the theory of "objective"

integration below. When I do , I think it will be c lear that Parsons'

differentiation o f facilities from personnel allocation represents a considerable advance over other theories of objective allocation. Combined with the reference to rewards, it opens up new , more systematic possibilities for explaining social disintegration.

There are two different ways in which the integrative problems raised by facilities and personnel allocation can be understood. First , there is the simple problem of the effectiveness of each system. How well are facilities being allocated? Are there enough

57

The 1\Jiddle PhasP

facilities bei n g produced to supply a given population ' s needs? I n

its most obvious sense, this issue refers to economic consumption,

the provision of food, clothes, and housing. But it also applies to

facilities in the sense of tools . Are tools distributed in a w ay that

allows the division of labor to work efficiently? Are the people who make nails supplied with enough iron and steel and the right nail­ punching machines? Is there sufficient manpower for the builders in a soc ie ty to construct the necessary s ch ools an d factories? M ore­

over, is this economic p roduction efficient? Is scienti fic research linked correctly to productive demands? In terms of the production

of power, are pol itical p ar ties organized so th at th ey can effectively generate le g itim a cy and resp onsiveness? Electoral rules ,

for ex­

ample, may tie up the power-generating process; they may en­

courage a plethora of small parties wh ich undermine consens.us­ building, or , to the contrary, by discouraging small parties they

may undermine the possibility for grass roots responsiveness lO

incipient problems. I ntra-system issues can also generate integrative problem s in the

allocation of personnel . Are peop l e be i n g properly educated? Is enough money al l ocated for education

so

that basic facili ties can

be used? Is there the right sequencing between phases of education , the best combination of emotional and technical tra i n ing? What is the relation between family life and schooling , and between these earlier phases and labor markets in turn? If s c h oo ls interfere with

families , for example, personnel allocation may be damaged . Social problems like d i vorce, alcoholism , even suicide might result . These

are just a few examples of the integrative problems th at ineffective personnel allocation can pose.

The second level of such "objective" integrative problems-those

pose d by

alloc at

ing facilities and person n el-concerns the problem

of coordination between these allocative processes . Here the ques­

tion is not whether people are wel l train ed per se , but whether

the training system provides the right people for exi s tin g facilities. I f the economy demands more and mor e technically trained people while educators have neither the m oney nor the desire to pursue

technical education . severe allocative con flict can resul t . This is the

case in the U nited States today . The i nternational economy demands an increa�ing allocation of science-based tools. yet Americ an l abo r

58

The Middle Pha se

markets so discourage prospective h igh school and col l ege teachers that few competent science and math instructors •can be found. Another example of m alin tegrat ion between fac ilit i es and per sonne l concerns the way gender becomes a nor mative criterion for pers onnel allocation. The U nited States economy needs highly trained women, but the pers onn el allocation system assigns the care of young children to mothers. Some of the m ost highly trained women are siphoned off from the econ om y into such caretaker positions, while those who remain in the facilities realm are often cut off from effective partic ipat ion in the socia liza tion of children. Institution­ alized day care m ight be one obvious solution for t h i s disequilibrium, yet, in the U nited States, there are not effective processes to encourage the assumption of this role . Man y other examples of the uncoordinated relation between facilities and personnel could be cited. To cite one more illustration , while American soc iety pro v ide s s ig n i fi can t p erso nn el incentives for lawyers, the p r od u c ti on of facilities m i ght proceed far more efficiently if many of these wou ld be lawyers were trai ned for administration, engineering, or -

education .

th e ory focuses precisely on these kinds of " objective" social in tegration . \farx descr ibed the growing conflict between the reproduction of labor (personnel , in Parson's terms) and economic production (facilities) . He argued that there was a basic contradiction between the c a pita l i st i c forces of prod uc ti on which demand increased inputs of ca p ita l and scien tific tec h nique , and the c a p i talist relations of pr od u ct io n In terms of the latte r , capitalist laws of pr i v ate accumulation and competiti o n , he bel ieved , force increasing numbers of paupe rized workers and ban krupted capitalists out of production altogether, so that the rep rod uc ti on of labor power (the alloc ati on of personnel) becomes fina lly im­ possible . �arx is pe r haps the gre ates t example of this theoretical focus on the o bj ect ive causes of i nstabi lity, but he is hardly the only one . Because s oci ology is a problem-solving discipli n e , its concerns have a lw ay s tended to foc us on the objective and pr act ical . It is to Parsons' great credit that, d es p i te his tendency to i dealize inte gra t i o n his structural-fu nctional theory conceptual izes these objective aspects of a ll oc at i o n in a more precise and systematic way . Still , it is in the area of c u l tur a l integration that Parsons' most interesting theoretical advances were made. Most social

threats to

,

.

,

The A1iddle Phast

59

The pro b l e m with most soc ial t h e o r y i s that it seeks t o locate

disequilibrium merely at th e i n strumental level . It is at this level

that t h e tensions I have j ust de sc r i b ed with i n each allocative system

and between them are located: t h es e al loc a t i ve pressures do not

di rect ly involve values and they produce pressures w h ich-taken

by themselves-have an externa l, obj e c t i ve force . Yet if it is pe op l e who are rea c t i n g to these pressures, these more "structural" al­ locative problems m ust , inevitably , be i nterpreted by norms. Thus, while Parsons' own appl ication of h i s integration theory certainly slighted the i n strum ental sides, he was

pe rfect l y

right to insist on

the importance of the third , m ore subj ective al locative process, the process of rewards. Parsons imisted that the deepe s t needs of peop l e are n o t for i nstrumen tal obj e cts but for love and respect a n d that ,

for this reason , p e ople want symbolic rewards . Rewards c o n tri b u t e

to stab l e allocation because they t i e objective distribution to the u lti m a t e

values of human b ei n gs

.

An ideal istic readi ng of this

proposition would suggest that rewards can , therefore , successfully mediate-reconcile

sour ce s

.

A

m ore

peop l e

to-any

allocation

of obj ect i ve

re­

multidimensional reading would suggest simply

that prestige a ll oc ati on is al w a y s a factor i n i ntegration . While

Parsons h imself o ften favors an idealist re a d i n g his th eory of reward ,

allocation i s , in pri nc i pl e no more than the fu r ther e laboration of ,

the multidimensional positio n .

Let ' s consider first t h e r ela t i o n between symbolic rewards and

the allocation of facili ties. T h ere must be a n "expe rienced reci­

pr o c ity

"

between them: individuals must feel a s if the relation of

faci lit ies and rewards is " right . " The positions which supply s ociet y

with vital goods , either econom ic or po li t i c a l ones , must receive

e no u gh respect-in p re st i ge or i n symbols of prestige l ike money­ to ensure that t heir tasks are e ffi c i e n tly performed . In cap i tal i s t societ ies, h owever , there is often

a

wide gap between rewards and

allocation . P roductive experti se, for e xam ple , is often controlled by professionals who, while hi gh ly educated, do not control the

sources of money . As a result , the experts who are central to the production of fac i l i tie s often feel they are not sufficiently rewarded.

Roles like factory and sa ni t at i on worker, of course, receive much

less money and respect, and their experience of dissatisfaction is

often comparab l y great. Yet, while the occupants of these roles

The Middle Phase

60

contribute to alJocation in basic ways, as individual workers they exercise significantly less power and responsibility than do profes­ sionals. Only when they aggregate their alJocative power through coHective organi zations like unions can their functional importance manifest itself. After u n ionization , the tension between the aHa­ cation of facilities and rewards for unskilJed groups begins to be addressed.

We can also look at functional reciprocity in terms of the allo­ cation of power . This asymmetry , in fact , often makes it difficult to recruit talented persons to Congress, a failure, in turn , that makes the production of power much less efficient. Yet the lack of reciprocity between facil ities a n d rewards can suffer from the other side. Prestige is often far in excess of productive tasks per­ formed. Movie stars , athletes, and the " idle rich" receive great rewards but, in terms of the facilities produced , do very little for

the society at large-though it could be argued that the first two professions play an i mportant role in the allocation of personnel by providing role model s . I f rewards cannot effectively coordinate t h e production and dis­ tribution of facilities, disequilibrium results. What does a social

system do to prevent such conflict, to maintain the integration of facilities and rewards? S i nce it is cul ture which establishes standards

about what is desirable behavior, this is realJy a question about th e

relation between culture and social system. Culture produces ex­ pectations about prestige distribution , and the most central of these expectations are, in turn, concretized into laws. Property laws, for example , are crucial factors in deciding the relationship between different productive activities and monetary reward. Pure private property systems allow a vast distance between money and expertise ; through inheritance one can own the means of production and the profit it produces without any particular achie"·ement oneself. I n such a system artists , writers, and scientists may produce great value for a society but , if they are unable to turn their products into property , they will not receive an appropriate monetary reward .

Such pure private property systems are based upon a culture of

extreme individualism . Insofar as a culture develops in a more

egalitarian or collectivistic direction rewards will be distributed i n

different ways. Progressive income tax laws, for example, seek to

The Middle Phase

61

assure a more integr ative relation between rewards and achieve­ ment. By taxing highe r incomes more heavily , they ensure that

inherited wealth will be reduced more s h arpl y than wealth which

is related to achievements. I nheritance laws go even further in this direction. Laws concerning property, tax, and inheritance can , of course, be viewed from both an integrative and an alloc ati ve point of view . If your conc e rn is purely with allocat i ve efficiency , you

may want to offer very hi gh rewards for i nnovativ e achievement,

regardless of the inegalitarian consequences. You might, in other

words, wish t o reduce the level of taxation on great wealth insofar as that wealth is earned by productive achievement. I f, on the

other hand, your concern is with social integration, you might be willing to reduce allocative production for th e sake of achieving

more equality and less social conflict. The debate between con­

servatives and liberals over the welfare st ate revolves preci s el y over

this issue o f integration versus allocation . H i sto r y has shown that exclusive concentration on the produc t ion of means

( fac i li tie s)

at

the expense of ends (rewards) will not only create c onfl ict but ,

eventual1y, undermine the allocation of means itself. A t the same time, capitalist countries which have taxed entrepreneurs at rates

of 60 percent and more (like the social d em ocracy of Sweden) have

found that this, too, has its drawbacks. The in tegration a ch i eved

may have a deleterious effect on production , an allocative problem which often reacts back on social integration in turn .

I sh o u ld add, of co u rs e , that money and the laws p erta ini n g to

m o ney are far from being the only forms that reward allocation

takes . Prestige manifests itself in more ephemeral but equally ef­ fective ways. Over the last century , for exampl e , the growth of

more e g a lit a rian values has taken prestige away from the

"

idl e

rich" much more rapidly and effectivel y than it has taken away

their property . This shift in prestige allocation has certa i nly been

as important in reequilibrating the capitalist system as have changes in income distribution per se . The relation between rewards and personnel allocation is s imil arly

s ubject to cultural m ediation a nd control . Insofar as cultural values become more oriented to achievement and less subject to aristocratic ideas of ascribed, or inborn , qualities, processes that seek to sub­ ordinate personnel selection to particularistic concerns-like reli-

62

The

Middle Phase

gious or racial quotas-are increasingly thrown into doubt. As­ criptive considerations in personnel allocation are, of course, virtually impossible completely to erase. For example, being born to an upper- or a lower-class family will always have some effect no matter how open adult or student recruitment is, and birth , obviously, is a matter of luck not achievement! Still, any significant sense of disproportion between the criteria employed in personnel selection and reward distribution creates a sense of injustice, and those who feel they have been unjustly rewarded often withdraw from allo­ cative processes or even actively oppose them. The negative con­ sequences for integration are potentially enormous, revolution by an oppressed , discr i m inated-again s t group being the p ro v e rb ia l case in point. Two caveats are worth mentioning here. First, any personnel process can usually be seen from both allocative and integrative points of view , a fact which enormously complicates the resolution of social strains. Tracking in education, for example, was initiated in part to satisfy the end of equality ; the idea was to allow more social mobility for intelligent and industrious but underprivileged people by allowing higher achieving children to receive special attention . But tracking was also initiated because it provided a means of training the most capable personnel in efficient and ef­ fective ways . Efforts to eliminate tracking in the name of more radically egalitarian values must cope with this double-sided con­ straint, for its elimination may undermine the most efficient training of society's personnel. Much the same ambiguity exists in relation to "affirmative action" in hiring. Recruitment criteria in hiring are affected by both allocative and integrative concerns. Affirmative action was initiated as a vehicle for social justice in the wake of racial unrest in the 1 960s. By the end of the 1 9 7 0s, this "inte­ grative" support for affirmative action began to fade; cultural values had changed, and in a time of increased economic constraint, allocative issues became m uch more important. In the Supreme Court's Bakke decision, affirmative action came to be justified in terms of allocative criteria alone . The court argued that education would be more "effective" if it were more racially equal-not that it would be more just. They suggested , for example, that profes­ sional education needs a wide ethnic base if professional services are to cope effectively with the problems of a diverse society.

The Middle Phase

63

M y second ca v e at

about the allocation/integration relation con­ cerns the proverbial luck of the draw . Good looks, physical coor­

dination, height, weight, inherited intelligence-all these tend to

be randomly di stributed. Yet each of these attributes comes into play in allocative processes. It is p robably true, therefore, that even the most just social system cannot entirely eliminate the sense of injustice from society . Parsons does not, however , write about integration only in terms

of these kinds of au tomatic " equilibriating processes" which occur between the three allocative dimens ions themselves. He also con­ ceptualizes integration as the background against w hich such pro­ cesses fu n c t ion and as the court of last resort when they fail. Childhood socialization, he believes, creates an all-important lim­ iting framework of expectations . Parsons and Shils put this idea in a way that, once agai n, may discourage the hopes of radical egal­ itarianism.

The p rocess of soc i a l i za tio n in the family ,

school , and play in the community focuses need-disp ositions in such a way that the degree of incompatibility of the a c t iv e aspi­ rations and claims for social and n o n so cial objects is reduced, in " normal conditions, " to the usually executable task of making allocations among sectors of the population most of whose claim s will not too greatly exceed what they a r e re­

groups and

ceiving . 1

Socialization, i n other words, forms person alities before they enter into tension-fil led allocative processes and integrative disputes. It forms the background to these processes in two ways. First, it supplies the basic ca tegori es of identification and communicatio n without which these specific social processes would be chaotic and even incomprehensible , cate gories of human and nonhuman objects like good and evil, male and female . Second , it supplies a kind of feedback loop from malintegration back to social behavior that may recon cile people to role strains after they occu r . U nequal class !. Parwns and Shils . "Values, :\1otives, and Svstems of Action," in Parsons and Shils, eds. , TIJ'u-'ards a Gmrral Tht'OT)' 9f Action (N�w Y ork: Harpe r and Row, 1 95 1), p. 1 97 .

64

The Middle Phase

positions, for example, can themselves become the source of so­

cialization, supplying the expected frameworks of i nterpretation rather than the external objects which i nterpretation attacks. In this way, stratification may become so normalized that the advocacy of interclass justice can become a source of disequilibration and deviance! Often, of course , functional reciprocity breaks down and social­ ization fails in its fate-inducing task . In such cases disintegration is met , in Parsons' words, by the organs of "authoritative inter­ pretation and enforc e ment. " The reference here is to the legal system and the coercive forces of police and state . If a society is to stay together, disputatious persons and institutions must be forced to submit their conflicts to the rules upheld by officially designated agencies of control, and whether the contending parties a gree or not these rules must ultimately be enforced. Every society reserves the right to exile, imprison, and even to murder those in whom it cannot instill "cooperation . " In t h i s final discussion of social system process, incidentally , we can see, once again, how empirically intermixed Parsons' analytic concepts are . The legal syste m , it is

clear, operates simultaneously in each of the realms which Parsons

has analytically differentiated. Administrative and business law ad­ dresses itself to facilities allocation; property law has allocative aspects but also is crucial for the distribu tion of rewards ; criminal law regulates the state's opportunity for final redress . In the final analysis, moreover, e very law has a coercive dimension, for it is

designed to operate whether or not cultural rewards make inte­ gration a voluntary , intrinsically appealing process. Before turning to some case studies in which Parsons applies this formidable scheme of theoretical abstraction, it might be well to return to a simple consideration

I

suggested at the outset of today' s

lecture. O n e w a y to look a t Parson s' detailed conceptualization of social system processes is to view it as elaborating the components

of an ideal, typically institutionalized social role . Rather than saying

simply that every role involves norms, sanctions, and rewards , we are now in a position , given the detailed structural-functional theory, to say more specifically to just what these categories refer. Every role, for example, is defined in relation to its part in the allocation of facilities: it must articulate with the " tools" its status provides.

The Middle Phase

65

The competence a role requires for th e use of its facilities, more­

over, must be coordinated with the requirements it stipu l at e s for

entering its status in the first place . Every role must, in ad dition

,

set into plac e pr esti ge symbols which will reward these processes

of successful assum pt ion and competence , and it must define sanc­

tions that will be brought into play if success is not ac h iev ed Each .

such complex l y defined role must, finaJly, mesh with the entire

range of the other roles with which the social system pl aces it in in tera c tion . It is

no wonder that , in any society, the c h ance s for

fuiJ role compliance seem so extraordinarily slim and the sources of deviance so omn ipresent.

This p i ctu re of a demanding , even harsh and imperious soci al

system is in accord with the critical ide o l og ical overtones which

informed Parsons' early and middle work. We saw earlier that

Parsons was sensitive to the serious i m bal an ce s in co n te mporary

society and that he was committed to finding a nonindividualistic

way to e xplai n (and resolve) them . He wished to do so, moreover ,

not simply for theoretical , scientific reasons but b eca u se he bel i ev e d

that radical individualism and unrestrained com p etition-consid­ ered as norms of pr ac t ica l conduct rather than as sc ie n t i fic pre­

suppositions-were the primary sources of disorder in Western

societies (see, for example, my discussion of the disintegrating

consequences that individualism has for the reciprocity between

facilities and re w a rds) Just as anti-individualistic theory could rectify .

the scientific problem , less individualistic, m ore collectivity-oriented behavior might ev entually h e l p to rectify the social one . Indeed, in the discussion of two of Parsons' case studies which follows , you can see how Parsons uses his collectivist theory not only to ex pla i n but also covertly to attack the competitive ind i vi d ual ism of tw en tieth-century Western life. In the lecture following, you will see, ­

ironically, that Parsons e ve n tu al ly came to believe that his new anti-individualist th e ory

,

along with the distinctive developments

of postwar society , actually allowed these social problems

to be

superseded.

For our purposes the two most important empirical essays that

Parsons published between 1 9 3 7 and Social Structure in Pre-Nazi Germany"

1 950 are "Democracy and ( 1 942) and Cert ain Primary "

Sources and Patterns of A g gressi Ofl in the Social Structure of the

The Afiddle Phase

66

Western World . " 2 Both have long been r ega r d ed as seminal em­

pi ri cal works, studied for their par ticula r insights into the specific problems at hand. I would like to consider them here, however, in relation to the broader th eo reti cal and i deo logical issues I have

discussed thus far. I will show , first, how they can be understood

in te rms of the detailed structural-functional model presented above-despite the fact that Parsons himself never made this

lation explicit .

I will show , in ad d i tion

,

re­

that it is poss ib le to relate

these essays to the broader t h eo retica l and ideological developments in Parsons' work I have earlier discussed.

Because the essay on aggression sup pl i es a general framework within which to consider Parsons' d isc ussio n of Germany, consider it first . Parsons wrote this essay after Wor ld War

I II,

will

the

devastating conflict wh ich brought to a head t h e pat ho logi c a l tend­

encies that had spurred his th eo r iz i ng in the interwar period. His

aim was to explain why this pathology occurred , why Western

society had been brought to the brink of massive destruction . Here was a true

c

h all e nge for his social system theory . Could it e xp lai n

the problems w h ich had motivated its creation?

Parsons first describes the tremendous allocative strains of West­

ern societies. For the production of facilities Western nations have de velop ed e no rm ou s ly spec i a l i zed and differentiated mechanisms

which em phasize efficiency , experti se , and te c h no logy Yet to achieve .

this extrao rd in a ry adaptive capacity , the organization of productive

institutions , like the i n du s t ri al factory and the bureaucratic state , m u st be made re sol ute l y i m p e rson a l

.

Parsons suggests that this has

had profound consequences for the allocati o n of personnel . De­ mands for i mp er so n al effi ci ency can be met only if the intimate

sphere of love and affection is radically separated from t h e sphere

of work. The family becomes "specialized" in emotions, and t h e

"office" assume s an a fa m i l ia l often antagonistic role. To maximize ,

efficiency , the n orm at i v e regulation of work life becomes purely

universalistic and achievement oriented . C riteria for perso nnel re­

cruitment must also become radically depersonalized if they are to

fit with these new allocative demands. I f personnel are to be trained 2. Talcott Parsons, "Democracy and Social Structure in Pre- N azi Germany" ( 1 942) pp. 1 04- 1 2 3, and "Certain Primary Sources and Patterns or Aggressio n " ( 1 94 7) pp. 298-32 2 , in Parsons, Es.says in Sociological Theory (�ew York: Free Press, 1 9j4).

67

The ,\-fiddle Phase

to assum e impersonal work orientations, t here must at some point

in the training and socialization process be a sharp rejection of family life , which i s diffu se and emotional. To effectuate this radical

break seems to be one latent function of formal schooling and the

i n formal schooling of "hard knocks , " both of which draw children increasingly outside of the home. It is this emotionally difficult break, P arsons suggests, that makes adolescence such a difficult time. Thus, while personnel training may effectively allocate facil­ ities, th e re is great cost in personality terms . The demands for

e motional re pr e ssio n and depersonalization create frustration which may eventually have negative effects on personnel allocation itself.

T he allocation of rewar d s , Parsons believes, cannot really over­ come these strains. First, the primordial sca rcity of rewards actually

increases insecurity even wh ile it effectively channels facilities and recruitment . Equally important, however, is the fact t hat a system

which emphasizes al locative efficiency can give rewards only for

achievement . The question must always be, "what have you done lately?" Thus, while rewards may reinforce allocative processes they

serve to increase insecurity and frustration at the level of the

individual personality. The fact that positions are awarded com­ petitively means that no matter what r e w a rds

a

person h as previously

ac qu i red , he is always in danger of losing the m . The e mphasis of

the

fac ili ties

system on technology and cognitive skills, moreover ,

means that the abilities a person has developed to e a r n certain rewards are in constant dan ger of becoming obsolete . Faced with suc h strains the integrative challenge for Western societies is clear. Parsons has demonstrated that their allocative

processes have e s ta bl i s hed intrinsically frustrating role relationships . The personality system of " ego" simply cannot get what it needs from "alter" -in systemic terms, from the role opportunities in­ stitutionalized in Western societies. We know from our earlier

discussions that if rol e participation is unsatisfying, deviance results .

In Western societies, Parsons believes, this i nstitutional ized deviance

occurs as fol lows. The anxiety

and frustration built into t he ir

allocative processes are handled by the personality through the defense mechanisms of projection and external izati on . Instead of allowing the actor to understand the roots of his frustration, these

defense mechanisms allow the personality to place the "blame" on

The Middle Phase

68

erroneous sources . The Western personality scapegoats unpopular social groups , blaming th em for creating its real anxiety . To "ex­ plain"

their problems, people create ideologies that assert the

unjustified aggression of forces which they can potentially control , the "rational " response to which is aggression in turn . Aggression , Parsons believes, has become a dominant mode of interaction in Western societies. The malintegration of Western social systems produces what he calls "free fl oating aggression . " How can integrative processes cope with this situation? As I have

already mentioned, Parsons is rather pessimistic about the system

of rewards. It is very often the case , of course, that reward seeking can provide a relatively harmless outlet for free-floating aggression, from chasing foot ba lls to running after the almighty dollar. Yet

each of these activities results as often in deprivation as gratification . For every folk belief about money buying happiness there is the equally persistent recognition that "money can ' t buy you love. "

Parsons believes that cultural systems have , however, discovered a way to skew rewards which allows aggression to

be

redirected even

if it is not eliminated. F a m ily loyalty and comm u n ity morality

prevent people from unleashing their aggression against groups and institutions with whom they have established close relations.

But those who are outside of this community-those which social morality does not explicitly designate as "friend"-are by this very

process legitimated as subjects for aggression's full force. These ex te rnal objects of aggression are the proverbial "other ," the class,

ethnic, racial , or national group which is seen as different and, hence, despised.

To find out precisely which groups these will be is to discover

the structure of modern social conflict

To do so , Parsons argues,

we must return to the a llocative system. What kind of rational

interest groupings have been structured by the allocation of facil­

ities, personnel, and rewards? Whatever these lines of interest

conflict are, they will be overlaid by the powerful, unconscious engines of aggressive emotions. But what about the background for integration, socialization ,

and its court o f last resort , the bodies o f authoritative interpretation and enforcement? Clearly , soc ia l i zati on allows some conflict reduc­

tion simply by providing the basic and minimal "categories of

The Middle Phase

69

identification'' within which every i n teraction occur!;. Beyond this, however, socialization may not contribute much . Parsons has de­ scribed the difficult discontinuities that sociali zation faces when home and family become sharply divided, and, indeed , how so­ cialization produces emotional conflicts that contribute to disinte­ gration rather than ameliorate it. This is exacerbated, he believes , by the way in which gender is brought into play. The masculine emphasis of premodern societies meant that when the modern spl it emerged between family and work it was males who assumed the impersonal , highly rewarded work of facilities production , while females took exclusive control over emotions and the home. Thi!; more radical sexual divi!;ion of labor increase!; the strains which discontinuous socialization involves. For boys the early objects of intense identification are almost exclusively fe male. When these males reach adolescence , therefore , they have not only to develop more impersonal and repressive need-dispositions (which is accom­ plished through identifying with the adult of their sexual type) but to do so they must repress a major sex-role identification from earlier life. The common difficulties faced by other aspects of the modern integrative system make enforcement institutions such as the courts and the police more i mportant. Parsons does not deny , prima facie, their ability to handle the destabilizing situation , but he evaluates their effectiveness by paying more attention to specific time and place. Just as the interest grou p target for free-Aoating aggression is dependen t on the particular social formation, so too, Parsons argues, the auth ori ty and power of social control institutions can be decided only by lookin g at the particular structural and cultural situation in a given social system. With th is in mind , we turn to his d iscussion of pre-�azi Germany . In discussing the allocative problems of Germany before World War I I , Parsons deepens his systemic a na lysis of the causes of aggression and makes them historically spec i fic . He discusses the development of the bureaucratic state, the rise of large-scale cap­ italist markets , the growing complexity of social relations and the growth of modern science. Each of these factors , P arsons believes, increases the efficient production and allocation of facilities enor­ mously, but each al so contributes to the growing impersonality of

The A-fiddle Ph ase

70

work and to the split between office and hom e . Parsons' most

important innovation in this essay , however, is his focus on the polarization that these allocative processes produce. He believes that there developed in Ger m any a more extreme version of what happened throughout the West : the society became divided be­ tween, on the one hand, a " modern" sector which was deeply implicated in newly emergi ng, impersonal and rationalized struc­

tures and, on the other , a " ' traditional " sector w h ich was funda­

mentally opposed to them. The trad itionalistic groups experienced

great anxiety about the loss of t h e old pattern s slipping away,

focusing on the end of reli gious certa i n ty , the destruction of rural

simplicit y , the loss of economic stability . The modernist sector experienced anxiety because of its v u l n e rable position on ration ­ alization ' s cutting edge . Th i s polarization made rewards relatively

i neffective , for rewards themselves appeared to be skewed along

the fault l i nes produced by th is allocative division . A new group

like t h e German i ndustrial working cl ass felt i t had not yet received

its due; an older group like s mall farmers fel t , to the contrary , that it was losing prestige a nd economic security compared to this working c lass group. Parsons suggests , further , that the German reward system was skewed i n an exaggerated hierarchical way .

Despite the decl i n e in thei r objective position , the old German aristocracy m a i n tained much of its control over the symbols of prestige and privileges. As a result its members felt superior and depri ved a t the same time. M embers of the i ndustrialist class, on

the other hand, experienced an increase in their control over

facilities but felt depri ved of an y th ing like equal access to the symbols of prestige .

No grou p in German soci ety was satisfied with its lot . These

unusually great strains between modernizing and traditional sectors

m ad e intergroup scapegoating relatively easy . Every group wa s frustrated , and each externalized its frustration as aggression against

those it defined as "crimi nal outsiders." For t h e mode r n i z i n g left­ the workers, i n t ellectual s , scientists, communists-t h e scapegoats were the groups of old Germany , the aristocracy, lower middle

class, religious leaders , and segments of the new upper class wh o

had made alliance with them . For the traditionalistic right, the

scapegoats were socialists, intellectual s , scientists, and Jews. The stage was set for a battle to the death .

71

The A1iddle Phase I n th e German situation , moreover, t h is ba tt le could not

be

a vert ed by s o c i al i za t i o n or social control . German families were even more p r i va t i ze d and female-centered than those of other

Western nations . The compensating cult of masculinity which as­ serted itself i n allocative institutions was , therefore, even more pronounced. This

exagge ra t ed sex l i nka ge in t u rn , made sociali­ ,

zation even more discontinuous. These r es ult s can be fou n d in the

familiar ideo l o g ies of German reacti o n : the fa n tasy c on fi gu ra tions romanticism, the escap i st y ear n i n g s for the old ways . Other pa tt er n s in the German cultural system undermined its inte grative

of

pot e n t i al even further. The traditional e m ph asi s on hierarchy cre­ ated, in the face of m ode r n i zat i o n , a pattern of

i n t erpers o n a l while providi ng a semblance of co n t i n u i ty , further e nc ou ra g ed a rigid res i s t an ce to e gal i taria n developments . By giving this formal aut h ori t y its c o mplet e sup p o rt , G er m a n L u t he r a n is m ce rta i nl y suppor ted " ' integ ration " in the short-run sense , but its pass i ve adjustment to this-worldly authority en co u ra ge d the dog­

formalism which,

matic mor al i ty that made social reform and long-run integration impossible.

If soc i al control were to work in th i s situ a tion , the lawyers ,

judges , and pol i ce wou ld have to be seen as th or ou gh ly legitimate

neutral par t ie s . The problem , of course, was t h a t the same p ressures

which polarized the allocative system undermi ned the n e u t r a l ity of Germany's system of s o c i a l control . Prussian ar istoc ra c y m a i n tained

a

Be fore

W orld

War I , the

reactionary pol itical system that

was accorded neither respect nor obedience from modernist groups. In the interwar period, during the democratic Weimar Republic,

groups felt that the tables were turned . Bec aus e they accept the l e g i t i m a t e a u t h ority of the mode r n ist legal establ ishmen t , there was no way t ha t the social control system could adj ud i c a te , or even repress, the i n creasingly a ggressi v e conflicts within German soci ety. The resu l t is h ist ory : the rupture o f equi­ l ibrium and a revolution from the r i g h t . Revolutions can be seen as radical efforts to restore equilibriu m , to establish allocative and i n tegrat i v e structures more accura tely geared to the real conditions of a society 's l i fe . The N azi revol ution restored, at g reat cost , some vesti ge of German unity and integration . With i n t e r na l enemies forcibly eli m i na t e d , the re m i l i ta r i z e d German nation turned its

traditionalist would not

"

"

72

The Middle Phase

aggression to the Western nations it considered responsible for the modern o rde r it

so

despised . The internal stabi l ity of the Third

Reich was intricately tied to the success of this scapegoating foreign struggle.

LECT U R E FIVE

THE T H EO RY OF SU CCESS F U L MO DERNITY

I

N T H E. M I D D L E. period of his career Parsons developed a structural-functional theory of the way social systems work; for him, this meant a theory of the requirements for systems to be in equilibrium. I want to stress that to an important extent this theory takes the form of a model . It is a simplified picture of societ y ; it must be simplified, for it seeks to talk about the precise relation of a number of factors simultaneously. Although it re l ie s on a vast repertoire of concepts and definitions and is informed throughout by a deeply informed em p i r i ca l sensibility , it is not a fac t ua l or em p i r i c al description of society as such . I n principle, such a model biases the observer neither toward empirical stability nor change, neither toward a positive and approving view of a particular society nor toward a negative and critical one. This insistence on the abstractness of Parsons' model does not contradict my suggestion , toward the end of my l ast lecture, that Parsons sought to concretize his model by making a range of more specific commitments. In the essays of 1 9 3 7- 1 950, Parsons did, indeed , articulate a fairly well-developed, c om parat i ve account of twentieth-century cap­ italist soc i e ty This hi stor ica l ly specific theory revealed itself to be a de ep ly pessimistic one, conceptualizing Western nations as systems whose basic structural processes inexorably produced self-destruc­ tive strains. From the perspective of this middle period analysis, pre-Nazi Germ any was less an anomalous, deviant case than an all too t yp i ca l outcome. Parsons had certainly achieved the ambition he set forth in The Structure �of Social A.ction. He had overcome nineteenth-century liberal theory with its assumptions about auto­ matic s elf adj ust i ng mechanisms. .

-

74

Successful lVIodernity

But Parsons' ambition had not been simply to produce a theory better able to explain social breakdown and conflict. He wished also to produce a theory that would be able to conce ptualize, and therefore contribute to, a society which would not be at such constant risk . The other side of his theoretical ambition, then , was a positive one . He wished to replace Utilitarianism and Idealism not just because their easy assumptions about individualism and rationality failed to explain social breakdown, but also because they could not sustain a convincing picture of social harmony. Parsons' structural-functional theory, he hoped, would not only be able to paint a more realistic picture of the destruction of reason and individuality but a more compelling and durable model of how they could be maintained. A theory like L"tilitarianism , which simply assumed rational action and voluntary order, was incapable of explaining their dem ise . Only if a theory understood that individ­ uality and reason were social products could their breakdown be explained and their survival understood . If Parsons' theory could face the world in all i ts complexity-recognizing the interplay of subjectivity and objectivity, individuality and social control-then perhaps the liberal hopes Parsons held about social progress based on reason and individual integrity could be realized . In terms of this more positive ambition Parsons' middle period work did not fully measure up. He had not used his theory to explain how rationality and autonomy actually could be sustained. The post-World War I I period in Western society gave him an opportunity to do so . This was an unusually stable and optimistic period in twentieth-century history , and the U nited States emerged from the war as the most democratic and stable industrial society in the world. Parsons' theori zing responded to this new situation. He did not, it must be said, suddenly become Mary Poppins; his equilibrium model continued to sensitize him to deep and con­ tinuing sourcs of social-system strain . Still, in this postwar period his theory underwent profound alterations. Before 1 950 , he had spoken about the "\'\'est" in critical terms, taking Germany as its leading if most depressing representative . After 1 950 he spoke about "modern" society and identified it with the vigor and stability he sensed in America itself. America, not Germany, became the "prototype" for any social analysis of Western modern ization. Fas-

Successful Modernity

75

cist nations were deviant cases, the societies which had emerged from the war as communist industrial states almost equally so. In ideological terms, this shift in perspective represents a tran­ sition from a critical to a relatively c omplace n t liberalism . America and other democratic capitalist societies had e nt ered the Cold War, and their citizens earnestly held up their particular patterns of cap ital i st and de mocra tic social development as universal and right. The euphoria of the immediate postwar period seems also to have had a major impact, swee pin g away the doubt and negativism of the prewar and depression years. But there were also more legit­ imate, scientific reasons for this change in Parsons' work. A stable and rational social order may in fact be possible, and one cannot begrudge Parsons the ambition , which he shared w i th all his great classical predecessors, to explore j u st how this possibility might actually come about . Western societies had not, in the end, self­ destructed . Despite the second world war and the carnage it wrought, certain ba sic institutional patterns had survived, and some in par­ ticular seemed to have demonstrated great resilience and strength . Certainly any compelling theory of the social system must show the resilience which allowed some capitalist democrac i es to survive as well as the pathologies which threatened their destruction . There is, then , a delicate balance in Parsons' later theoretical work . I nsofar as he is simply "filling in" his general model with a new empirical analysis of Western development , his theorizing cannot be faulted . This, after all, is the virtue of general theory and model bui lding: it applies to different contexts and can be specified in different ways. I nsofar, however , as the optimistic turn in Parsom' later work actually introduces a naive bias toward "progress" and stability into the abstract model itself, this marks a disastrous development . We will see, indeed , that both these "readings" of Parsons' later work are possible. He introduces, in this later work, a more amplified and b a l a n ced accoun t of W estern development; at the same time, the work re veals an ideolo gi ca l tilt that exacerbates some of the reductionist tendencies we have noted already . The best way to give you some sense of these developments is to discuss Parsons' l ater theory of social c h ange. This change theory tried to explain how individuality c ou l d be realized without sac-

Successful Afodemi t)'

76

rificing "socialization" -the collective character of individuals and institutions. It promised, in other words, to explain independence and interdependence at the same time. The same is true for the new theory's perspective on rationality. While it continues to main­ tain that there is no "natural" rationali ty and that situational efficiency is only one component of action , it by no means abandons the possibility of institutionalizing rationality as a dominant form. Parsons' later theory suggests that substantively rational action can result from particular arrangements of situational structures and from particular normative guidelines regulating this situation. These possibilities are realized because modern social change develops in certain distinctive ways. The master concept that Parsons uses to describe modern change is differentiation . In his middle period , Parsons stressed the negative consequences of institutional separation , emphasizing the psycho­ logical difficulties of strictly dividing expressive from instrumental behavior , the social difficulties of providing consistent regulation of independent institutions, the cultural problems that emerge when weakened religious institutions and cognitively speciali zed thought try to address the vital problems of human existence . The theory which emerges after 1 950 is strikingly different. 1 Parsons stresses the positive side of institutional separation, pointing out that it allows i ndividuals freedom from external and dictatorial control . With m odernizing social change, he believes, there i s increasing differentiation in every institutional sphere. Family, work, law, education, religion , intellectual life, government-all have an in­ creasing autonomy from one another. He acknowledges there are problems which go along with such differentiation, but he empha­ sizes its empowering advantages . \\Then he speaks in these later writings about societies in which modernizing social change pro­ duces destabilization, Germany , for example, he describes them as victimized by insufficient differentiation rather than by too much . According to this later analysis it was the all-embracing German 1 See, for exam ple, S oc ia l Strains in Americ a " ( 1 9 5 !':1 ) i n Parsons, Pol itics and Socia l Structure (New York: F ree Press, 1 969), pp . 1 6 3- 1 7 8 ; " Durkheim ' s Contri­ bution to the Theory of Integration of Social Syste m s ( 1 960) in Pa rs o ns Sociological Theory and Afodern Society ( N e w York : Free Press, 1 967), pp. 3-34; Societies: Et'olu tiona ry a nd Compa ratiu Perspectit·es (Englewood Cliffs. N .J : Prentice Hall, 1 966); The SJslem of '"1odmz Societies (En g lewood C l i ffs )'l; .j : Prent ice Hall , 1 97 1 ) . "

"

,

,

Su ccessful .Modem it_v

77

a r istocracy that created its problems, preventing, for example , the most effective allocation of bureaucratic personnel and the just distribution of rewards. This destabilizing corruption was reinforced by the compromised interpenetration which opposed the differ­ entiation of Church and state . These were certainly signi ficant references in his earlier analysis, but t h ey were combined, in that earlier treatment, with the destabilizing consequences of differen­ tiation as such . Parsons emphasizes in this later work on change that i n a good society institutional separation does not mean that the different spheres simply go off on their own in an uncoordinated , antisocial way . I ndeed, he insists that the process of differentiation produces new forms of wider, and ofte n more binding, mutual interdepend­ ence. In the first place, differentiation does not mean that insti­ tutions become completely autonomous but rather that they become more speciali zed , their goals more clearly separated from the goals of other institutions . This allows one to see that differentiated i nstitutions can actually interrelate more closely than the institu­ tional groupin gs of earlier societies. S ince they ha ...·e become special­ i zed, they can not supply themselves with the resources they need. Increasingly they must rely on a wide range o f inputs from other i nstitutions, and their specialized outputs are relied upon i n turn . This new social di v i sion of labor involves intricate processes of social exchange and reciprocity . But there are also, Parsons now believes, distinctly moral con­ sequences of differentiation . �ot only is there increasing i nstitu­ tional interpenetration but also moral inclusion . This happens be­ cause one of the most significant things that becomes differentiated and autonomous in the course of modernization is the criterion of community membership. Ful l membership in the community be­ comes defined in terms w h ich are more general and humanistic than specific and particu laristic. People are increasingly defined as full members of the community simply because they are competent " individuals" ; they do not have to possess " special qualities," like membersh ip in particular religious, racial, familial , or economic groups. This is Parsons' conception of sociological citizenship: it is open to an those who fulfill minimum competency requirements. With the acceptance of citi zenship, moreover, there is an acceptance

78

Succesiful AJodernit_y

by the individual of certain oblgations on behalf of the community as a whole. Differentiated institutions, and the autonomous indi­ viduals which now comprise them , can thus be seen as encompassed by a more inclusive community. They are protected by, and must themselves uphold, universal normative obligations, most obviously the law . The history of \'\'estern development extends " inclusion" to previously excluded groups , to racial and ethnic minorities, economically oppressed classes, and to other groups like the old , the young, the handicapped, which have formerly been excluded on particularistic grounds. In his earlier essays Parsons stressed the competitiveness and i mpersonality that universal ism engendered. While not completely ignoring these problems, he now emphasizes the equality and opportuni t ies it creates. Differentiation and inclusion are two major parts of Parsons' later theory of social change. Value generalization is the third.2 What happens to strongly held values in such a diversified and tolerant setting as the one Parsons has described? Does such plur­ alistic development mean that values no longer control anything at all? Parsons disagrees. Values are still important; it is merely their nature and function which has changed . Those values about which consensus exists have become very gen eral and abstract. I f a society is going t o b e democratic a n d individualistic, there must be a great deal of "generalization ," for there can be no direct relation between a value and a specific activ i ty. I f a direct rela­ tionship did exist , if consensual values directly controlled action , there would be no room for diversity, rational ity , and change. General values provide sources for some agreement but they do not regulate the details of everyday life . Take t h e case o f America, Parsons' favorite example in h i s later writings. I f America is to remain a democratic society , its citizens must agree upon the general values of liberty and (to a lesser extent) equality. We need not, however, all agree on values that are more specific, that is, on values that connote specific forms of institutionalizing these general commitments (see my discussion of these more specific alternatives in lecture 4 , above). We do not 2 Actuall y , Parsons iden tifies fou r major proc esses of change, the last bei ng some­ thing he called "adaptive upgrading." Beca use I regard t h i s as merely another way

of descr i b i n g the effects of the o t h er t h ree, I

will

not

ta l k about it fu r t h e r .

Successful :Hode rnity

79

i n o ther words, about whether socialism o r capitalism the best way to rea l i ze libe rty or equality, let al o ne about whether our present eco n o my works most effectively through deficit spend­ ing or through a balanced budget. With modernization, value generali zation affects the value commitments that inform every institutional sphere. In religious life it is no longer considered a moral obligation to follow the Catholic, Protestant, or Jewish version of God ; one is accepted as a "religious person" if one simply believes in God per se and leads one's life in a manner that is consistent with this general m oral obligation . (Th e re seems not yet to have been sufficient value generalization in the U nited S tates so that spiritual c o m m i tm e n t s are accepted as legitimate which give up the belief in God altogether.) Parsons believes that generalization has deeply affected our most fundam ental value commitmen ts, so much so that b y the middle of the twentieth century t h e most basic American value has become " instrumen tal activism ." The emphasis on activism meam that Americans experience a general duty to control their environments , both natural and social, and to achi eve practical results in a dis­ ciplined way . T he instrumental emphasis means that Americans feel this activism must be in the service of some m oral and social obligation. The value " instrumental activism , " however, mandates nothing about what the particular nature of this guiding norm might be. By defining the dominant American v alue p a t te rn i n this way , Parsons suggests that A merica n s can be c o m m i tted to the same general value e\·en w h i le they carry out widely different activities in conflicting institutional contexts. Parsons has described the rea lization of rationality and individ­ uality in a n or m at i ve and collectivist way . The three fundamental processes he h as described allow modern society to embody what he calls "institutionalized i ndi vidualis m . " The differentiated , inclu­ sive , and value-gen eralized society is individualistic in the sense that the i nitiative for the action of its u n i ts-whether individuals or collectivities-comes in large part from the u nits t hemselve s . I n this kind o f society, i n co n tra s t t o communist or traditional societies, there is no ovenll directi n g agency responsible for making ultimate decisions, nor is there a speci fi c val ue that society can be said to embody which seeks to impart to social development an overall

have to agree, is

80

S1lccesifu1 ;\-fodem il)'

design. In this society, Parsons insists, "choices are open, " social change is continuous , and the interpretation and meaning of emerg­ ing situations is contingent. There is indeterminacy in the meta­ physical sense: what is good or bad is not, and should not be, firmly codified in advance. Yet there remains a strongly "institu­ tionalized" element in this opening toward individual choice. Most importantly , of course, this individualism is itself the result of social processes which no single individual can control. Individual choice in a specific h istorical moment is relatively free because of value generalization, but the acting individual who chooses has neither created value generalization nor is particularly aware of its exist­ ence. The institutionalization of individuality, Parsons believes, also creates certain obligations. Individual s must agree to work coop­ eratively and to be responsible to norms, just as they must reconcile themselves to a relatively smaH role in determining the overall course of social life. In his later theory of social change Parsons has painted a different but in certain respects even more sophisticated post-Utilitarian picture of society . It is a picture that is neither materialist nor idealist, neither individualist nor anti-individual in tum . Social control exists in abundance, but it relies heavily on individuality and individual choice. Indeed, as we will see in the second part of this lecture, social control is confined in great degree to the pro­ duction of active and socially responsible individuals. Does this picture resemble Western or even American society in the postwar period? The answer seems to be "yes and no." Certainly it captures something that is absolutely vital to thi s more recent phase of modernity . I n the postwar period we have experienced more stable and more democratic societies than at any other time in the industrial era . Yet it is clear , at the same time, that this picture has certain one-dimensional features; there is a tendency­ not always carried through-to convert every vice into a virtue and every strain into a source of stability . There is, in fact, a deep ambiguity in Parsons' later model of modern life. On the one hand, he presents it as a general model denoting an abstract social type. On the other, he presents it as an empirical description of postwar America . For empirical, ideological, and even presuppositional rea­ sons, Parsons often generalizes from American society to his model

Successful Atodenzity

81

of modern soc iety as such. I nsofar as th i s has occurred, the model becomes idealized and overly one-sided , failing to cover all the different possibilities for modern change . Yet for all its faults it is still wonderfully revealing, not only of certain important processes in American society but of crucial dimensions of modern societies a s suc h . Let us tu rn now t o Parsons' more specific

d is c u ss i o n of

how such qui n tesse n tially " voluntaristic" social systems actually work.

We will do t h i s by returning to our old friends, allocation and

integratio n . These , you will remember, are the social system pro­ cesses which Parsons first set forth i n h i s m i ddle-period theory . I n a subsequent lecture I w i ll discuss his l at e r t h i n k i n g on the allocation of facilities; here I want to focus on his later theorizi n g allocation of personnel and rewards.

about the

I n the later writings Parson s' underst a nding of personnel allo­

cation focuses more than anyth i n g else on socializa t ion . The so­ cialization process, we recal l , is in volved in both allocation and

integration. In terms of allocatio n , it m us t produce the best trained personnel for the jobs at hand . I n t e r m s of integration , i t should work in such a way that the unequal rewards which inevi tably result from efficient allocation will be accepted with equan i m ity, that is, will

be seen by the role occupant as consis ten t with h i s i n ternalized i ts i ntegr a tive

val ues. Both aspects of socialization - its a l l ocative and

sides-are esse ntial con tributions to t h e i n stitmionali zation of adult roles; they are essential to the acceptance of a stab l e , effective

and education are completed. " Acceptance" means that the rol e is considered to be complemen­

occupational position after you th

tary with the motivational complex of earlier roles ; " e ffective"

means that the facilities attached to the rol e m esh with the p erson's earlier technical training. We are aware from our earlier discu ssions how fragile Parso ns consi ders such ins titutional i zation to be. If personnel and , particularly , socialization processes are not operating well, the delicate relationship betwee n effi c i e n c y demands a nd re­ wards will c ert ai n l y break dow n , with deviance and conflict the

result. I n view of the changes I have traced in the post- 1 95 0 work , you might expect tbat in these later writings Parsons w i l l find that

socialization does not, in fact, usually break down . You will not be

disappointed in this prediction, nor will you be surprised at the

82

Successfu l Alodernil)'

complexity and elegance of the model for equilibrium which Parsons actually presents. I want to begin by emphasizing the u nusually significant role that socialization plays in the kind of "voluntaristic society" Parsons envisions in his later theory of modernity . For a society to exhibit what Parsons calls "institutionalized individualism," for it to be both highly differentiated and broadly inclusive, the individuals who are its members must adhere to high levels of self-control. If society is structured so that its ultimate direction is open to indi­ vidual action , then it is individual action itself-people's ability to motivate themselves-that will determine their social position . This ability depends upon individual value internalization . In a volun­ taristic society , internalization "produces" the allocation of per­ sonnel and facilities: it does not depend primarily on external coercion and control . The importance of childhood socialization and education now becomes clear. They are crucial because they provide the major processes agaim.t which value internalization takes place. It is clear, as well , that i n this "modern " situation value internalization is hardly the same as conformity. The values internalized are the highly generalized ones of instrumental activ­ ism . They emphasize rationality , indep endence , and self-control. Their internalization develops highly abstract and sophisticated cognitive and moral capacities. School is the intermediate point between fa m i l y and occupational world. As such it is the prototypically modern m ilieu for socialization in both the allocative and integrative sense. In a well-known essay entitled "The School Class as a Social System,"� Parsons shows how the character of the elementary school classroom , and the whole sequencing of the elementary school experience, is geared to these functional tasks. The really signi ficant learning that goes on in an elementary school classroom , he suggests, is not factual but social. Socialization succeeds to the degree that a student manages to identify with and internalize the values of the teacher. For such identification to be possible and productive , the teacher role must be defined in a way that is consistent with its intermediate ' Parsons, 'The School Class as a Society" ( 1 959), i n Pa rson s , Social 1 964), pp. 1 29 - 1 54.

Social S y ste m : Som e of I ts Functions in American Struct u r.. and Personality (New York : Free P ress,

Successful A1odemit_)'

83

posit i o n . On the o n e h a n d , the teach e r rese mbles the female head

of the family and promotes fam i l ial val ues l ike diffuse affect, per­ sonalism, in formality, and play . At t h e same time, the teacher must embody t h e va lue!> dema nded by the occupational world-abstrac­ tio n , rationill ity, mastery , independence , and cooperatio n . The first set of values facilitates i dentificati on ; the seco nd set directs iden­ tification to the adul t role . In term!> of expl i c i t deman d s, "teac h i n g "

is governed by the

adult-oriemed code. The teach er not only insists upon effective i n tellectual perform a nc e , upon rational ity and mastery , but she or he also dema nds cooperation . the accepu nce of a uthori ty , and good citizensh ip. O n e of the most striki n g facts about formal ach ieve ment i n the elementary grades ,

Parsons su ggests,

is that " these two

primary components are n ot clearly differe n t iated from each other.

Rather, the pupil is eva l uated i n d i ffusely general ter m s : a good

pupil is defi ned in terms of

a

fusion of t h e cognitive and m o ral

components . . . T he ' h igh ach ievers' of the elementary sch ool

are both the ' b righ t ' pupi l s , who catch on eas i l y to t h e i r more strictly intellectual tasks, and the 're spo n s ible ' pupi l s , who ' beh ave well' and

on

whom t he teacher

can

' cou n t ' i n her d i ffi c u l t problems

of manag[ng the class . " 4 E lementary school grad i n g is i n fl u e n ced

by both these criteria , wh ich taken togeth er i n d icate the degree to w h i c h the child has succeeded in va lues

requ i red for

learn i n g t h e m i xed set of

i n s ti t u tio n a l ized i ndi v id u a l i s m .

The success of this i n terna li7.ation-and, t h e r efore , the expla­ nation for whether or not a student re ceives h igh grades-depends

to a large degree o n the i n dependence t r a i n i n g a c h i l d has already received in his fam i l y . T h is h e lps to expla i n the relatively bad school performa nce of working-class and d i sadva n taged ch ildren ,

for , Parsons suggests, the lower one goes in t h e clas!i structure the less i ndependence i s s t ressed i n fam i l y l i fe . T h i s impact

on school performance clearly represe nts

a

of family

closed, supra-indi v id­

ualistic eleme nt in even the most mode rn social systems, sinc e it places tremendous importa n ce o n the group qualities outside of a n actor' s control . Yet Parson s insists t h at sch ool ing as such remains an open competit ion that embodies institutionalized i n dividualism 4

Par.-.ons, " T h e School C las s , " p. 1 3 7 .

84

Succesiful 1Hodernity

in the purest sense . The competition is informed by the general values of rationality and freedom. Grades reflect the child's capacity for performance during school , nothing else . While this perfor­ mance capacity is partly the result of inherited intelligence, over which individuals have no control , it is more dependent upon the student's ability to internalize the school's generalized values . It is the capacity to become "value-generalized" which is at issue, and it is clearly the lower-class/h i gh ability child who is subject to the most cross-pressure and has the most at stake . The crucial threat to the successful internaliza tion of schooling values is the peer group, which also presents a fallback once internalization has failed. Peer groups , Parsons believes, are an inevitable source of "temptation" in modern societies, the product of strain between office and family . In his middle period work Parsons described this differentiation as producing frustration which led to ami-social aggression . Here he describes it as leading to the peer group, a much more closely bounded and controlled arena which , nonetheless, embodies similarly "diffuse" impulses. On the one hand, peer groups are places for continuing activism and achievement, for demonstrating prowess in the skills of indepen­ dence and cooperation . At the same time , pe e r groups let children and adolescents (and others! ) get away with all the things that schooling seeks to socialize them away from : compulsive conformity , overweaning personal loyalty, romantic and simpl i stic ways of look­ ing at the world. True, schools themselves, especially elementary schools, must embody some of these peer group values if they are to earn the early identification of the initially family-centered child, yet these peer values must always be in a secondary position. Peer groups threaten schooling by reversing its value priorities . Children seek out peer groups partly to escape schooling values. As children enter into their teenage years, peer group life blos­ soms into youth culture, the mixture of eros, art , physical prowess, and political nonconformity that provides a transitional , "softening" millieu through late high school and college years. Youth culture emphasizes the search for meaning and the problem of identity, not impersonal achievement and universalism . Parsons described this "dropping out" institution long before it had become an internationally acclaimed social "problem " in the late nineteen-

Successful Afodemity

85

sixties. ' His descri pt ion of you th c u l t u re i s con tin uou s with his earlier concern for s u c h escapist phen o m e na as roma nticism, which he also described as a stopgap between family and work . I t is, however , a much more muted and optimistic treatment of this earlier theme. Parsons stresses , for example, th at contemporary youth culture is effectively restrained by the culture of institution­ alized individualism, s.o m uch so that it allows y ou th to continue to play a " socially responsible" role. The possibilities of aggression it feeds , and the deep frustration it represents , are now largely ignored. Yet even for the later Parsons peer groups and youth culture are serious sources of dev i a n ce from the "modern adult role . " I f this deviance is t o o strong, you th wil l not w a n t t o assume adul t roles. Committed to the diffusene!'.s of youth and peers , they will not wish to engage i n the affectivel y neutral . in strumental activism that is requ ired . Whether pe rson n el al location is succe s.sful or not depends on where the primary identification of youth lies: ·with the peer group and youth culture or with the teacher and the school . Lowe r-class children have special problems in this regard. Trained in home!'. th at do not emphas.ize these " m iddle-class" success valu es, they a re not as well prepared to mak e the necessary identifications in school l i fe . They are caught between the values of the school and the values of the home, between the values of the teacher a n d th e anti-authorita r i a n va lue of t h e peer group. This cross-pressur i n g may l ead to withdrawal and deviance. It is no acc ide n t acc o rdin g to Parsons' theory , that the vi olent culture of street gangs is so much more pervas i ve in l ower-c lass than in middle-class youth. The tragedy of this situation , P a rs o n s notes, is that successful value internal i zat ion is th e only l egitim a t e h ope that lower-class ch ildren have. If middle- and upper-class children have not internalized success v a l ue s in a strong and forceful way, they have the safety net of famil y connections and i n h erited wealth to fall back on . These are some of the pressures which undermine the effective allocation of personnel. They also contribute , Parsons points out , ,

; See " Y outh i n the Contex t o f American Society " Structu re a nd Persona litJ. p p . 1 5 ,',- 1 82 .

: 1 962).

i n Parson �. Socia i

86

Succesiful Mode mit)

to the ineffective al location of rewards. I n principal , we recall , reward allocation should play a n integrating role b y harmonizing the unequal results of the allocation of facilities and personnel . In many respects schooling is a perfect vehicle for fulfilling this function because it distributes personnel by a criterion which is also a highly s o u gh t after reward, namely grades. High grades are the means to attain powerful position and great facilities, but grades are also symbolic rewards for performing in a culturally valued way, symbolizing as they do universalistic achievement. Because grade allocation tends to be accepted as a fai r evaluation of indi­ vidual capacity , positions and facilities which follow from grades are effectively legitimated . There is only one danger that th is apparently neatly integrative reward system faces : people must accept the legitimacy of achievement values if they are going to accept the validity of the unequal rewards. They must, in other words , feel they have " only themselves to blame" if they receive bad grades, recognizing that their own lack of performance brings them unequal facilities and reward. Yet according to Parsons' own analysis of the sources for school socialization , it is precisely for low achievers that this "rewarding" quality of grades is put to the sharpest strain . It is the very people who a r e less committed to these achievement values who tend to receive the lower grades. The stratification system, then, underm ines the desired duality of grades . The criterion which distributes positions and facilities may gradually become separated-especially among less privileged groups-from the criterion that determines rewards. If children do not aspire to universal ism and achievement, lower grades will not­ seem like a legitimate pun ishment (reward deprivation); since they­ have not deeply internalized school values, they may well feel that they have continued to act in a proper and deserving way acc ord i n g to their own lights. This "deviant" transvaluation of values will be rewarded by any extensive peer group participation , which is in turn more l i kely if a child experiences punishment, or simply the lack of reward, in school . To the degree this occurs, the particularistic " loyalty standards" o f youth culture can become an institutionalized basis for challenging the just dist ribution of social rewards. If this happens, the reward system has failed in its task of integrating dominant values and allocation , and serious disruption can result.

Successful A1odemif) Parsons assumes in t h i s

mo

de l

87

that t h e a l location of facilities and

personnel is, in fact. guided by universalism and is responsive to the individual ' s achievemen t . This is the reason for his optimistic pre di c t i on that , w hile individual rebell ion against these school stand­ ards ca n be pro fou n d no basis exists for continuou s , group-based alienation from societal processes. Such a prediction assumes , h ow­ ever, certain empi r ic a l fac ts, like social m ob i l i ty and institutional fairness , which may not exist. O ne c a n , in fact, employ this same model of deviant youth to u nd e rs ta n d how in quite di ffe rent em­ pirical si tuations anti-integrative revo lutionary proc ess might arise. If the allocation of positions and fac ilities is not based on univer­ salism and a c h i e v e m e nt if it is, in fact, biased and distorted in th e interests of a dominant group. then those who experience the inevitable frustration of i n e q u a lity will eventua l ly see the game as "fixed . " To th e degree they realize that ach ievement values do not govern a l location , th e n th e alienation which i n v a r i a bl y accom­ pa nies socialization w i l l be suppo rted by " fact . " Thus, revol utionary com munist and fasc i s t movements appeal to many of the same diffuse value commitm ents as peer and youth culture, and in truly malintegrated situations they o ffer a n a t u r a l contin uation . Righ t­ wing mm.ements m ake ami-rational values t h e i r r a l l y i n g cry ; left­ ,

,

wing m m:emen ts, wh i l e relyi ng on " irrationa l " emotions and cul­

the renewal of ac h i ev e m e nt and "universalism" their milita n t deman ds. Parso m ' analysis o f personnel and reward a llocation in sc hoo l i n g demonstrates both the theoretical soph isticatio n and the polit ica l and e m p ir i c al ambi guity of h i s l ater work . W h i l e the model is a com p l e x and pow e r fu l one , it is often compro m i sed by the way in wh ich Parsons' postwar " American ism" na rrows his e m p i ri ca l ref­ erence ar,d flatten s h i s sense of ideological possibility. Qua model, the theory does not n ecessa rily assume s ucce ssful personnel allo­ cation and rewards; still , it never refers to a situation in which opp os i t io n to this success would h a ve t h e final say . I n important respects, of cou r se Pars o n s seems to h ave been right, but this seems to be as much the resu lt of e m pi ric a l co ndi tions in a certa i n

tural a l ienation o ften make

"

"

,

unique h i storical period a s the resu l t

of

anyt h i n g inherent about

" m odern ' ' allocation per se. These conftationary tende n c ies in P a rso n s '

l ater writings-wh ich empirical proposi-

sometimes reduce model to ideology and even

88

Su ccessful Alodemil_)'

tion-reinforce (and are reinforced by) the tendency toward ideal­ ism we already noticed in h is earlier work . It is this idealist tendency , the tendency toward a "pure" volun tarism rather than a multidi­ mensional one , which leads Parsons in the later work to focus much more on personnel allocation than on the allocation of facilities . Because of this choice he can focus on socialization, the most internally directed and voluntaristic of all social system pro­ cesses, the one which , if successful, ties such social process intimately to culture and personality . We have just seen how this idealization comes back to haunt Parsons. It was the failure to consider the possibilities of systematic class-based inequality in the allocation of facilities that allowed him to underestimate the destabilizing po­ tential of personnel allocation in schools. If these processes are more systematically considered , the model can begin to explain the sources of even revolutionary instability in a sophisticated, even penetrating way. Only if Parsons' model is purged of its presup­ positional, ideological , and empirical reductions can it retain its independent status; only by doing so can Parsons' in itial political­ cum-intellectual ambitions be achieved. This is the great paradox that haunts Parsons' later work. Even as the theory grew more supple and sophisticated its generalized status became more open to doubt . This paradox created great problems in Parsons' own work but even more for the theorizing which followed it. I ndeed, I will suggest in my later lectures that this explains much about the character of sociological theory in the entire period after the second world war . But I am getting ahead of myself. I am not yet finished with the theoretical upheaval that transformed Parsons' later work . The transformation which I will describe confirms, to my mind, Parsons' status as a revolutionary theorist , despite the fact that the advances of this later work were obscured by the ambiguities I have described, ambigu ities which have been highlighted by recent theoretical movements which have taken up explicitly "anti-Parsonian" themes.

L E CT C R E S I X

P A R S O N S ' LATER T H E O RY

A

L T H 0 U G H P A R S 0 N S ' theorizing about education and

youth extended into the 1 960s, it seems to have been constructed with the structural-functional framework of his middle period very much in mind. By the time this work was completed, however, a maj or trans ition in Parsons' theorizing was well under way. Many have mistaken this shift for a fundamental break not only with form but with the substance of his earlier work . It seems clear, to the contrary , that an essent ial continuity remained . Still , a change there certainly was. Before I outline what this new phase was like , you should know something about w hy it occurred. Parsons, incidentl y , gives us little help in this tas k . Like all .. grand theorists" (a somewhat derogatory term invented by C . Wright Mills), Parsons regarded every change in his work as merely the logical unfolding of its basic structure. Each new aspect , every new phase, was an advance, and every advance was perceived as having been dictated by i ncreasingly dear insight into the structure of the real world. You will see that, while I agree with P arsons that his later phase was "better " in many ways, I do not see it as an unequivocal improvement, nor do I think it can be explained in such exclusively empirical, as opposed to theoretical, terms. In my view there is no gainsaying the permanent accomplishment of the middle period work. No general theory since has matched its potential for analytic precision and its capacity for detailed reference to the empirical world. Still , the model was confusing in certain strategically important ways. An ironic but nonetheless i lluminating way to sum up these problems is by suggesting that there remained in this middle period work too much of Marxist and U t i litarian thought. It was Marx,

Parsons' Later Theory

90

of course, who used the rationalistic assumptions of U tilitarian theory to develop a "base/superstructure" model of society , arguing that the material, economic forces form a base upon which all moral and ideological-superstructural-elements are built. In Par­ sons' middle period theory we find, ironically , much of this same ambience . One part of the social syste m , allocation, is designated as primary; it is the sphere of instrumental activity, the "first actor . " Another part, integration,

is treated mainly a s a reactive sphere

which "mops up" the spil lover from this first sphere by getting people to believe in moral scruples and, if that fails, by applying social controls. By differentiating allocation from integration in this way , Parsons seems to attach them to mea n s and "ends" respec­ tively. He implies. moreover, that a society's concern with allocating means comes first, that integration deals mai n l y w ith the problems c r e a ted by allocation , and that ideal things like values exist because material things like money and power need to be controlled . But the parallel with Marx's base I su perstructure theory extends still fur­ ther, for Parsons superim poses upon this material-ideal split the an­ tithesis between co n flic t a nd order. Allocation not only concerns means "

"

but creates conflicts; in tegration not only concerns en ds but is devoted

to the restoration of equilibrium . This raises a very "Marx­ there be any values if equilibrium could be sustained through allocative processes alone? In his middle period ist" kind of question: would

work Parsons, the great critic of materialism, would ironically have

been forced to answer " no . " H o w would Parsons have got himself i n t o such a fix? Because , it seems to me, he tried to use his conceptual vocabulary to do two different things at the same time . On the

one hand, he u sed

it to describe the fundamental social system processes that produce the di fferent "elements" of the unit act-means, ends, norms, and conditions.

This marked the "presuppositional" reference of his

model . On the other hand, Parsons tried to use this same conceptual vocabulary to differentiate specific empirical tasks, for example , the economic production of facilities from the processes of social con­ trol. This marked the " propositional" reference of his mode l . It

is true , of course, that models must always face both ways, toward

specific empirical concerns and basic meta-empirical ones as well (see diagram 1 . 2 in my first lecture). Still, models can not actually

Pa rsons' Later Theo ry

91

encompass both at the same time. In fact, if you look cl osel y at what Parsons says abou t how allocation and i nte g r a t ion actu al l y work, you ca n see that because he t r i e s doing both these task s he e n ds up fully doing neither. When he speaks about the allocation of faci l iti e s , he is forced to talk about the production of certain idea l elements like norms, and when he speaks abo u t integrative rewards he is l ed to speak about the stra te gi c allocation of material sanctions like money. Just s o , Parsons could never r ea ll y confine conflict to a l loca ti v e tasks an d order to integrative on es. His so c ia l co n tr ol a gen c i e s are rife wi th the potential for c o n fl ict, and h is producers of facilities are cr i t i c al if often unre l iab l e sources of social order. The most reveal i ng e\•idence of the problems i n this middle period sc heme i s th e ambiguo u s status of "rewards . " Re ward s are e xp l i c it l y defined as products of t h e third kind of a l l oc at i on , the allocation that distributes prestige . Yet they are never spo ke n of in term s of the " means" pr ob l em a l on e , which is certainly the case for the first two allocative processes , facilities and p e r so n n e l. I n­ stead , Parson s describes rewards pr i m arily as related to values, .. phenomena fu ndamentally structured by the syst e m of ends." Fur­ ther, pr e st ige allocation is pictured as th e main inte grat ing force in soc i ety , de spite the fact that it is often in marked tension with the alloca t ion of facilities and personnel. This tension is a very real one, and I a m not criticizing Parsons for ack nowledging it. What I am pointing to, rather, i s t he fact that to describe it he must cannibal ize one con cep t u a l sph ere with another. If reward al locatio n primarily reflects values, then it is fu ndamentally impli­ c ated in the very processes which are supposed to be conceptually antithetical to it-the integrative p roc e sse s which deal not with allocation but with its consequences. That Parsons smug gl es values into all oc a t ion demonstrates, of c ourse , that he is by no means prepared to accept the implications of his base/superstructure model . He has done so to demonstrate th e interpenetration of ends and means , stabil ity and conflict. It is this gap between his substantive theoretical i nsi gh t and his formal conceptualization that Parsons' later innovations a re intended to address. In thi s later work Parsons deve lops a th eoret i ca l model which sticks more close ly to presuppositional concerns. Though conceived ·

92

Parsons' Later Theor;.•

as providing access to empirical issues, the later theory models these issues from the point of view of much m or e generalized ones . The new model does not describe detailed empi r ical tasks; it d eals almost exclusively with the fundamental social processes which pr oduce the different elements of the unit act. The new model, then , is couched at a much h igher level of abstraction . We will see that this abstraction is a great ad van ta ge. It allows more elegance and simpl icity, a n d it also allows Parsons to resolve poi nts that once had confused him. At t h e same time, th i s abstraction is not w ithout disadvantages. Its elaboration draws Parsons away from the details of the real world. Once he has discovered his new model, we will see , h e rarely retur n s to the dense spe c ific ity of his middle pe r i od work. Parsons cal led his new discovery the i n terch an ge model . " 1 His students nicknamed it the AGI L m o de l an acronym based on the first letter of ea c h subsystem which when read as "agile" also communicates t h e new model 's greater flexibility ! This AGI L model "

,

describes the social system as divided into four different dimensions , none of which corresponds completely to a n y given institution and e a ch of which relates both to stability and change. The four dimensions rep resent different degrees of proximity to ideal and material concerns, and the model's intention is to sy n t h es i ze the i de al i s t and materialist traditions in the most effective possible way. " Adaptation" (A) is a dimension that represents the forces i n t h e social system closest t o the material world, i.e. , t h e coercive , " conditional" forces which must be faced and adapted to whether p e ople like it or not . The economy is the s phe r e most closely connected to the adaptive s p he re "Goal-attainment" (G) represents forces which while still heavily i nfluenced by material , adaptive concerns are more s u bj ec t to ideal control . Organizat ion is the key to this subsystem; it seeks to control the impact of external forces in order to achieve carefully delimited goals. Politics and govern­ ment are the s ph eres of society most clearly associated with " G . " " Integration " (I) represents forces that emerge from the inherent thrust toward solidarity. Solidarity is the feeling of "we-ness" which .

1 First

Economy

presented as a model of the social system Socii'IJ (New York: Free Press, 1 956).

and

in Parsons and

Neil J .

Smelser ,

Pa rso n s ' Later Theo r)

93

develops w i t h i n groups. Because i t is group specific, it is regulated by norms rat her than broader values. Thus, though much less i nfluenced by obj ecti ve and material considerations than either adaptation or goal attainm ent, integration is governed less by purely subjective considerations than one might initially conceive . " Pattern maintenance" (" latency" or " L") represents the most purely sub­ j ective forces in soci ety . It is the sphere of general values, though these are values which bear sufficient relation to objective concerns to be i n stitutionalize d . Even " L , " after all , is a dimension of the

social rather than the cultural system, so i t is st ill subj ect to material constraints. None of t hese spheres, or subsystem s, is completely ideal or

completely materia l , a point which is forcefu l ly articulated by the diagram which Parsons employed to represent their interrelation (see diagram

6. 1 )

.

The whole poi n t of drawi n g the subsystems in this way is to be able to focus on the phenomenon of "boundary relations . " Each sphere of acti v i ty is a subsystem wh ose boundaries are composed D iagram 6 . 1.

Adapt;�lion (A )

I I

E co nomi(

Goal ;� l t a i nment (G )

facililies

Pol i tical goals

Patt e r n

I n tegr a t i o n (I)

maintenance (l)

Values

N o rms

94

Pa rson s ' Late r Them:v

of other subsystems with m ore material or more ideal concerns. From this fact of intermediacy, Parsons draws the conclusion of interdependency. Each subsystem engages in interchanges across its boundaries, each needs what the subsystems on its boundaries can provide , each of its adjoi n ing subsystems needs what it can provide in turn (diagram 6.2) . Each level of ideal and m aterial interest, then , depends on the support, or the "input ," from subsystems with more material and more ideal concerns. Parsons uses an economic analogy to stress this point about interpenetratio n . Each subsystem , he writes, is prod uced from a combination of the inputs it receives from the subsystems on its boundaries . Each of the four subsystems produces a distinctive output or product-money , power , norm s , values . This product is created from inputs , or "factors of production," that come into the subsystem from those around it. The product, in turn, becomes a new factor of production, an input, in the creation of the output or product of adjoining subsystems. D iagra m &.2.

Pa rsons ' L a ter Theol)

95

The economy , for exam ple (see dia g ram 6 . 3 ) , i s c ompos ed of fac tors of production derived from the "G" su bsy s t e m (the in ter nal organization of business is political , in P a r so n s sense, as is the e x te r nal support from the sta te) ; from t h e " l " subsystem (legal norms re gulat i n g contracts and the solidarity of economic acto r s); and fro m the "L" subsystem (ge ne r al value commitments inter­ n a l ized in the personalities of e c o n o m ic actors.) These i n p u ts in­ teract with the specific exigencies of material adaptation ("A" problems) to produce ec o no m i c goods and services , often repre­ sented by o u tpu ts of monetary wealth . Let us consider a very different example, like the church (d ia gr am 6 .4). H ere is the prototypical institution of cultural life , but in Parsons' scheme it is hardly t r e a te d as an emanation of the cultural system . True , it i s rooted more in value commitments th a n in ec on o m i c life, but i t is also a ffec ted by inputs from the material e x i ge n ci es of the econom y , from the orga n i za t ion (suppo r t or an t a g on ism) of the s tat e , and from the n at ure of the norms and so l i d a ry relations in the society .

'

Di agram 6 . 3.

Econo my

�'

,"

'

i

i

I

G

l "- 1

"

Parsons ' Later Theory

96

By the way, though modern institutions tend to specialize in producing different kinds of products-religious institutions, for example, are usually clearly separated from organizations special­ izing in material production or in political power-every institution , no matter what its specialization , can be internally divided into each of the four

functional

dimensions as well . Within a church,

Parsons suggests, there are adaptive , political , in tegrative, and pat­ tern maintenance forces at work, just as within a corporation there are positions specializing in the internal regulation of values, the promulgation of norms and solidarity, political organization, and

adaptation

to the external environment (see diagram

It is clear,

major

6.5).

I hope , that this interchange model solves one of the

problems that muddied Parsons'

middle

period work. It

makes it impossible to think that any of the basic social system processes is, by itself, e ither material or ideal. The continuous operation of any institution can be analyzed only through its bound­ ary relations with different subsystem s . Confronted with this in­ terdependent model, the social scientist cannot minimize the role Diagra m o.4.

A

G

/

Pa rsons' Lata Theor_)

97

D i a gram £>.5.

cor pora tion

A l

I

G I

A

G

l

I

church

o f any o f the different compo nents o f com p l e x social syste m s . I

believe that this kind of interpenetrating, inclusive model is always

what Parsons had in mind . One could go bac k to the early de­

scriptions of aggression and N azism , or to the processes modeled

in the middle period, and reconcep tua l i ze them in t e r m s of the

boundary exchanges he has now desc r ib e d

model , Parsons fou nd

an

.

'W i th the interchange

elegant, precise , and sophisticated model

to articulate his long-standing ambition to sy n t h e s i ze ideal and material form s.

It should a l so be e v ide n t that, i n principle at least, this interchange

mode l can also r es o l v e the second major problem of the m iddl e

period work , namely the tendency for that work to separate the

an a lys i s of stabi lity from con fl ic t . According to i nterchange the ory ,

n o subsystem spec ial i zes in stability

or

cha n ge; both processes,

rath e r, are ever present empirical possi b i lities. Equilibrium depends

on a general reciprocity between inputs and outputs throughout

the social syste m . Each su"Ssystem must get a certain amount of

support from its environing systems, and this support is far from

98

Pa rsons ' Later Theo l)'

an automatic thing: it depends on whether the subsystem can supply its environing systems with the resources they need . If a sector or institution cannot command the resources it needs to continue operation, its production will falter. If its output falls, so do its contributions to other systems, which will feel cheated and withdraw their inputs in turn . Conflict will result, not just between different subsystems but within them as well . The conflicts Parsons so often described in h is earlier work can be reconceptualized in such interchange terms. Education, for example, may be seen as an output from " L" to " A " and "G" . Children are taught appropriate values, they enter the labor market (the boundary between " L" and the organizations of " A " and "G ) and eventual\)· they assume adult positions of organizational responsibility. The more differ­ entiated and autonomous the institutions in " L" , " A " , and G however , the longer and more difficult this transition from social­ ization to adult position becomes. I nputs from families and schools remain crucial , but they become more difficult to make. The forces produced by each subsystem in the interchange model often exert themselves in an " invisible" w a y . The norms which " I " produces, for exampl e, are not concrete things that people consciously confront, nor are the "organi zational problems" (the product of "G") which a group faces always concretely embodied in the form of an actual person or state. But Parsons suggests that there are many times when these subsystem forces do , in fact, assume a very concrete and specific for m . H e calls the concrete forms of subsystem products "generalized media of exchange . " 2 The medium for the adaptive subsystem is m oney , for the goal attainment system power, for the in tegrative system influence, and for pattern maintenance value commitments. Each of these media is a concrete sanction or reward; it is wielded by people and institutions trying to get results in interaction with others. States and politicians wield power to commit people to their goals, cor­ porations and entrepreneurs use money to get cooperation, univer­ sities and churches invoke h allowed va lues (like God or rationality) "

"

" ,

2 "On the Concept of I n fluence" ( 1 963), pp. 3 5 5-382: and "On the Concep t of Political Power" ( 1 9 6 3), in pp. 297-354 , i n Par sons, Sociological Th�OTJ and Modnn

Socil'IJ; "On the Concept of Va lue Commitments"

( 1 968)

in Parson s , Po litics a nd

Socia l Structu re (Xew York: Free Press, 1 969), pp. 4 3 9 -4 7 2 .

Pa rso n s ' La ter Th eo n'

99

t o ga i n adherents, a n d representatives of s o l i d a ry groups use I n ­ flu e n ce to g e t peop le to

j o i n with them .

Behind ea c h medium , of course, stands the i n ter c h a n ge process.

I n t h e course of a pa r t ic u l a r action , individuals, g rou ps, or insti­

t u t ion s " r e pr e sent" a pa rt icu lar subsystem ; they act in their own interest within the co nfi n e s of e xch a n ge . They wield a medium , h op i n g to exchange some of

it for the media of adj o i n i n g subsys­

tems; in so doing, they hope to gain the " factors of production"

needed to pr odu ce more of t h eir own . One need only listen to the

appeals of a public radio or television station drive to know the kind of

d u r i n g a fu n d i n g bargaining that th e u se of even suc h a

s u bj e ct i v e medium as value commitments involves l l n voki n g cultural

i deals and playing upon guilt feelings. fund raisers try to " trade " some of the i r s tation 's

value commitments

for the m o r e conditional

fa ctors necessary for the station 's con t i nued production . To p r o d uc e

more of the value m e d iu m , they n eed more money , pm•,;er, and

organization , and sol i da r y support from the com m u n i ty .

I t is because he viewed medi a as cau gh t up i n t h e vicissitudes

of ex c ha n ge that Parsons conceptualized the for m o f each medium

in a flexible way. He described ea ch medium as having

spli t pe rsonal it y. On the one hand , i t symbolic ,

a

can

a

kind of

be g en e rali z ed and

form which cor respon d s to bei n g a c c e p t ed by ot h e rs

on the basis of trust. Dollar bills, for exampl e , a r e a mere symbol of goods

and services, yet peo p l e will accept t h is fl i m sy piece of

paper for real goods because they trust its promissory valu e . Such a m e d i u m has "genera l i zed" status; i t is a g e n e r a l thing which

s ta n d s for a w ide range of specific goods . But t h i s generalize d , symbolic form i s not au tomatically m a intained ; its .. b ackup syste m , " the s y s t e m o f economic " production , " must be in good worki n g order. ¥/hy? Because t he " real goods" must be there w h e n the consumer decides to "make good" on the promise of the generalized medium.

If the back up production system fa l ters , if people learn that

money is not easily r e d ee m ab l e for real goods , people will no l o n g e r

accept the p ro d u ct of economic production in its symbolic form.

T h ey wil l de m a n d not ge n e r a l i zed promises but the concrete goods themselves . Parsons calls th i s concrete form the mediu m ' s "base . "

While each medium consists o f base and symbol, social systems

Parsons ' Later Theory

1 00

work much more smoothly i f the symbolic form is widely accepted.

actors all demanded real goods in exchange for services, a barter economy. Such r estr i cted exchange would undermine the d i v i si o n of labor and, eventually, the wealth of socie ty . Bankin g , for example, would be eliminated because people would not trust t h e symbolic status of pro m i ssor y notes, and without banking it would be i mposs ib le to aggregate capital for large-scale production . A so c iety s resort to the b a se form and barter does not o cc u r arbitrarily. It is only when a soc i al sy ste m a c t u a lly be gin s to break down and production falters that gener­ alization is reduced and the "base" form demanded. This demand c o n tri b u te s to the vicious circle of d i st rus t which m a kes pro duc t i o n

If economic

we would be back to

'

that much

The

m ore difficult.

I have

for money applies to the other media as wel l . I nfluence, you remember, is the m ed i u m of the integrative system , whose p rodu ct is s o l i d ar i t y and norms. In its generalized for m i nfluence works because a p erso n trusts that the wie l de r of influence " really" is what he or she says they are that they really are fr i e n d ly i . e . , solidary with, the same groups and communities to wh ich the p e rson who is i nfluenced be l on gs The person assumes, in other words, that the symbolic m ed i um , influence , can be redeem ed for the " real t h i n g communal soli­ darity . To allow yourself to be influenced means, in fact, that you do not try to "look behind" the influential p erson in order to force him to show us his so l i da r y ties. I n s te a d , you allow yourself to be influenced by the person on the b as is of his p ers o n a l de­ meanor, by h is "presence" alone . One can see from this example how efficien t the generalized status of influence is. Influential people can o r gan i ze new groups quickly, respo n di n g to contingencies in a flexible way. But the ge neral iz ed status of influence depends on effective integrat ive "production ." If in tegrat ive pro d uc ti on fails, social sol idari ty breaks down, and influence will not be so ea si ly accepted . Rather than be i ng inclined to trust a stranger as a potential friend, you will be inclined to see those trying to influence you as potent ial enemies. If you feel this way, you will try to g et them to "prove" their solidarity with you by t r y i n g to establish their t i e s in irrefutable ways. In highly unstable situations, where i n te grat i o n has rea lly same k i nd of dynamics

"

outlined

"

,

,

,

.

,"

Parsons ' Lata Theo ry

101

broken dow n , people may allow themselves to be i n fl uenced only by those i n their immediate region or their neighborhood , or only by those in their

own

religious , political , or eth nic group. The

"base" of influence is felt, or experienced, solidarity . As the in­ tegrative system fail s and symbolic i n fl uence is increasingly rejected , the basis for experienced solidarity becomes so narrow that the ability to influence can come to be c ircumscribed by familial, blood connections alone. This introduces a "barter system" for influence which would make it almost impossible to form wider associations. Of all the soc i al system media i t is power t hat draws Parsons' m ost concentrated attention , and it i s upon his discussion of power that I propose to spend the rest of this tal k. Bu t there is another reason for my decision, for the topic of power also provides a concentrated comparison of the middle and later phases of Parsons'

work. When Parsons discusses power and its "production , " he is continuing in another form his earlier concern with allocative

processes. If we a nalyze this later treatment of power, therefore,

we will be able to offer one final evaluation of the strength s and weaknesse!; of the later work . Parsons emphasi zes that power has two levels. I ts base , what Parsons calls its " i ntrinsic persuader," is force pu re and simple . The state with its monopoly on physical coercion , or an individual

with phys ical superiority, can make people do what they themselves may not wish to do. Yet while this is one form of power, Parsons

stresses that it i s not its only for m . As we know from his earlier work, he believes social systems work m u c h better if people want to do what they must do. Power possesses this voluntary component

in its generalized, symbolic form . People want to do what power

has the objective capacity to force them to do if they bel ieve

in

its legitimacy. If power is legitimate , people t rust it, and if they

have trust they will follow the orders of powerful actors without demanding proof of their actual contro l !

This is the essence o f Parsons' later model o f power a s a gen­

eralized medium of exchange . Whether power actually operates as

a generalized element, however, depends on concrete empirical considerations , for it is the nature of the actual social system within which it functions that determines the r esources the power system can draw on and the i nterchanges it conducts. It is characteristic

1 02

Pa rsons '

La ter Theory

of Parsons in his later phase that for an elaboration of these more empirical considerations he turns to postwar American society. By far the best example of such work can be found in his article, " 'Voting' and the Equilibrium of the American Political System. " � The detailed theorizing in t h i s essay brilliantly fulfills Parsons' analytic ambition to construct a post-Utilitarian theory and his ideological ambition to u nderstand how reason and individuality can be socially sustained. You can also find in this essay all the characteristic faults of Parsons' theorizing, his tendency to empha­ size the normative over the material aspects of his m odel and his inclination to portray the American system as the fulfillment of every progressive ideological goal . Parsons maintains, to be sure, his model of power as the product of a multidimensional production process. Power, the capacity for goal-attainment ("G"), i s the product of inputs from adaptation, integration , and pattern maintenance . Political leadership is the capacity to combine these ingredients into effective system goals. Power needs economic facilities (" A"), cultural legitimation (" L " ), loyalty and support (" I "). If power is to gain a generalized status, if it is to be legitimate , it needs inputs from each of these sources. To receive such i nputs it needs to give valued outputs in turn. The process sounds circular, and it is meant to be . The "health" of power-whether it remains symbolic and generalized-depends on the effectiveness of exchange, and vice versa . The focus of Parsons' essay on voting i s o n the input t o power production from the integrative subsystem . If power is to be gen­ eralized, it must receive solidary support. The " G "-" 1 " interchange goes like this: solidary groups in the public offer support and loyalty to the polity in exchange for leadership. In a democracy , Parsons believes, the most crucial aspect of support is voting, or, to put it another way , voting is the act th rough which solidarity is politically channelled. Why does voting necessarily involve the generalization of support? In a large and complex society , a leader cannot possibly represent every single interest or constitutency . The voter cannot "barter" his power; he cannot act in an instrumentally rational ' Panons, 'Votin g ' and the Equilibrium of the A merican Political System ," ( 1 959) in Parsons, Politics a 11d So(ia/ Structu re, pp. 2 2 3 - 2 6 3 . ··

Pa rsons ' La ter Them)'

1 03

way, g ui d ed by the motto , " I g i ve you my vote, you give me what

I want in return . " I f you vote for someone, you assume that, r a t i on a l interests will be met , but it may take a long time and in the meantime it is quite poss ib l e that only the general i n te r e st s to which you are indirectly com m i t ted will be served . I f this is a fact of modern p o l i tic a l life, and Parson s

eventually, your instrumentally

believes it i s , then the voter must general ize his support from the candidate's interest po s iti on to "what he st a n d s for." The voter

must , in effect, give his t rust to a generally accepted leader. T h i s trust, agg re gat ed th rough m illions

of votes, is an i nput to the

production of power wh ich makes the elected official legitimate . I f power i s legitimate, it w i ll b e accepted even i f i n the short run the voter's specific interests are not served.

T h is reasoning process is presented in a completely abstract way , fro m the viewpo i n t , as it were, of the social system i t sel f But how .

does the genera liza tion wh ich votin g produces r e al l y come about , i n a concrete and specifically e m pi r i c a l sense? I n Parsons' e x p l a

­

nation we can see the fa m i l i ar confrontation with Utilitarianism

with which h e bega n h i s career. The first point he makes is that

the voter cannot act in a completely rational way . The issues the

voter m u st address are too complicated to u ndersta nd empirically;

even experts who have studied the issues often disagree about their mea n i n g . The impossibility of exercising absolute ra t i o n a l i t y means

that the i n terpretations of individual voters will i n e v i tably be guided by no rm at i v e standar d s . Here is how Pars.ons put this po in t : " When a rational dec i s io n is n o t poss i b le but at t h e same ti m e , there is pressure to m a k e comm itments, there has to be some stable s e t of ,

reference points so that beliefs can give meaning to the commitment and pople can fee l 'comfortable' about it. " 4

Voting, then , i s an act of faith , a supposedly rational a c t t h a t is

actually guided by normative comm itments whic h pre c ed e the act itself.

From t h i s critique of the U tilitarian approach

to action

Parsons moves on to the pro b l e m of order. The normative refere nce

poin t s of v o t in g he suggests , are rooted in stable su bj ec ti ve struc­ ,

tures, the solidary groupings which are products of t h e integrative s ub s ystem 4

.

Rather than " for w h a t? " , the crucial question which

Parsons, " ' Voting· ; · p. 2 1 8 .

1 04

Pa rsons ' La ter

Theory'

actually guides a person 's vote is "with whom?" The most stable group with whom people vote is their own family, and voting statistics show that most family members do, indeed, vote the same. In the form of empirical propositions about voting Parsons has restated the critique of Utilitarian individualism which he first made in The Structure of Social Action. How does the political process in a democratic society transfer the solidarity generated by the family to the vote and, eventually , to the candidate himself? Parsons believes there exists a sequence of solidary groups, groups which "borrow" from primordial family sol idarity and extend it in turn. Solidarity extends from the family to informal prim ary groups, like friendship networks and cliques, and from there to eth nic, religious, occupational , class, and regional groupings. Each of these solidary communities draws on the "we­ ness" experienced in family life and, taken togeth er, they extend this we-ness all the way to the political candidate himself. The crucial mechanism for turning this solidary network in a political direction is the poli tical party. Parties are intermediaries between solidarity and power, for they are both solidary groups and arenas for power struggles between candidates for objective power. Simply belonging to a political party focuses solidarity in a sharply political way , though this commitment remains at such a general level that it cannot , in itself, decide the nature of any particular vote. It is the cultural aspects of the party 's political campaign that provide a more speci fic, candidate-centered focus. It is the "style" of the campaign- in the vernacular, the " h ot air" rather than the nuts and bolts issues-that extends solidarity to the candidates and that is crucial in d etermining the vote . T hrough campaign s , the generalized solidarity w hich extends from the family through intermediate groups to poli tical parties is attached to generalized political promises like "efficiency," "fair taxes ," "cut­ ting back big government," and the l ike. These promises are accepted because of influence , because t h ey are generated by poli­ tical figures who seem, to the voter, representative of fam iliar solidary groups . Once the candidate is elected, this n ormative commitment to generali zed issues becomes the basis for legitimacy , for maintaining the generalized status of the political medium . Even if a candidate wins, however, it is quite possible that he will not be able to produce truly generali zed power. Specific political

Pa rsons ' Later Theo ry

1 05

mechanisms can neutralize the input of political trust. M uch de­ p ends for exampl e , on the natu re of political part i e s If there are many small partie s rather than a coupl e of big ones, the solid a rity invested in individual votes cannot e xten d in a smooth line to the victorious candidate . Small parties must form coalitions, and the candidate who is actually elected never has the complete trust of the factions that are not his own . Because there do e s not exist full generalization and trust, factions in th e coalit i o n will be quick to demand the fulfillment of s pec ific interests, the immediate payment of their prom issory notes. In this way the coalition candidate may be deni ed the possibility of exercising true leadership, which consists in directing the country in new directions which h a v e not yet been conceived. This is bad for the country because its co lle c t i ve goa ls are much less likely to be achi ev e d It is also bad for the leader ' s tenure i n office because i t is bound t o b e unstable. Si nce th e leader cannot fulfill all interests at once, his supporters are bound to becom e frustrated ; they will withdraw their support for him at the first opportunity. This loss of generalized status ma kes po w er, in Pa r son s words, "deflated." The leader whose power is deflated will have to engage in bar g aining and barter if his go als are to be achieved. Sometimes he will even be c ompe l le d to rely upon brute force. Deflation through overzealous demands, of course, is not limited to coa li t ion governments. I t a lso presents a d a nger to cand i da t e s who are elected by a n i n formal coalition the members of which feel no real solidarity . Yet even if power is fully "legitimate," even i f the persons voting for the ca ndidate have really generalized their support, a significant problem remains. What about the losers? They have ended up with no power at all, except the power they indirectly p ossess as members of the soc ial system for whom goal-attainment activities are formally conducted, i . e . , their power as c i ti zens We are reminded that, though Parsons focuses on sol i d a rity voting is a means of a llocati ng and distributing scarce resources. The value of the goods distributed makes it all the more important to understand wha t forces might lead the losers to stay in the system rather than optin g out and starting their ow n . O bv io u sl y there must be some grounds for consensus and agreement outside of the party system , be yo n d the issues which the pa r ti e s have made visible and decisive for h o l d i ng power. ,

.

,

.

'

.

,

,

Pa rsons'

1 06

Later Them�v

Parsons' model of the social system , with its insistence on mul­ tidimensional exchan ges, prepares us to consider all sorts of inputs to power, both subjective and objective, as significant for creating supra-party agreement. He h imself, however, discusses primarily the supra-party role of normative and solidary concerns . These sources of agreement, he points out, can come from " above" and "below" the party as well as from withi n the party itself. First, there must be normative consensus about political rules and cultural agreement about central political concerns. The former issue refers to the proverbial "rules of the game." A l l part ies must ack no w ledge the existence of rules about political selection procedures-rules about how campaigns should be run, how many votes it takes to elect, how authority is transferred, and so forth . If such procedural rules are accepted, and power is fought according to its terms, then losers must accept the winner's power as legitimate and accord it some measure of g eneralization. Th ese rules of the ga m e of course, are inscribed in constitutions, elaborate sets of rules gov­ erning not s i mp l y elections but the whole range of political social interactions . In back of both procedural rules and con stitutions, however, there stands, i n Parsons' words, " a common framework . . . of cognitive de fin ition of the situation . " 5 Parsons is referring here to the need for a common p oliti ca l culture. Given such common understanding , there will be a g ree m e n t across party lines on the characteristics of the candidates, the relevant criteria upon which to judge their performance, the crucial issues faci n g political so c i e ty Such common p e rc ep t ion s serve to c o n sol e and integrate the losers. But there must be extensive agreement "below " the party as wel l . To describe this Parsons refers to the conception of cross­ cutting loyalties. Losers in a campaign will remain integrated if they belong to nonpolitical s o li dary groups which include members from the other major parties. Modern societies tend to produce such cross-cutting solidarities because their complexity makes any neat political alignment next to impossible. You usually find yourself i n voluntary associations, neighborhood groups, occupational as­ sociations with all sorts of different people, many of whom have ,

.

' Parsons, " ' Voting'," p . 2 2 2 .

Pa rsons ' Later Theory

1 07

s h a rpl y d i ffering po l i t i c a l affil iations. P a rso n s suggests that such o ver lap pi n g sol idarity l eads to fe e l in gs of s o l i dar i t y with members of other pa r t ies and to some non political trust in th e candidate

they

elect .

There is, fi n a l l y , one other, rather m u n da n e factor which P a rs o n s cites to expla i n the integration of los e r s i n t o t h e po li t i ca l system . Th i s is the si m p l e alternation of ins a nd outs. If you know y ou w i ll never be allowed to come back into power , you a re much less l i k e l y to su ppo r t the c a n di da te who beat you out . I f you know that your ow n ch a n c e will come again , you are mor e likely to gi v e the newly elected i ncumbent a little rope. What Parsons has discussed here are p ro b l em s which develop from the "distribution " of power, even after its s u c c ess fu l " pro­ d uc t ion" has been assured. Severe distributive p rob le ms arise , in his view, in s h arply di vided soci e tie s . Sharp divisions mean that losers ( I ) may no t share supra-party con se n s u s on rules or c u ltu re , ( 2 ) may not have cross-cutti ng party ties , (3) m a y n o t have the i n st itu t i o n al opportunity for getting back into power. If you look back to Parsons' discussion of pre-Nazi Germany, you will see that t h e se a re pr ec i se l y the sources of instability he pointed t o there; his l ate r work, then , produces a co ncep tu a l reworking of this e ar l i er th e ori zi n g b u t p ro d u c e s no fundamental empirical or p r e s uppo si ­ tional departures. I hope y o u will agree t h a t i n th i s later effort Parson s has produced an intricate, o fte n c o m pel l i n g a nal y t i c a l fram ework, and, i n add i­ tion , that t h i s later i n terc h a n ge model can be specified in an e mpir ic a l way. Yet it i s p r e c i se l y in this empirical speci fi c at i o n that the familiar p r o b l e m s of Pa r so n s' theorizing surface, p roblem s which even in these final m inutes o f our d i s cu ssi o n of his work we can h a rd l y fail to explore . These are the same pr obl em s we e a rl i e r observed in the m iddle p e r i o d work and , before t h a t , in The Structu re of Social Action itself: an overem p hasis on the normative, the equation of normative co n t rol w ith the maintenance of emp i ric a l e quilibrium , and, finally, the eq uatio n of normative equilibrium with the real­ ization of a good soc i e t y . Although power is c le a rl y one of the pri ncipal m e a n s of social allocation, Parsons actually is m uch l e s s concerned with the pro­ duction and distribution of power than with the p rob l e m s these

Pa rsons' La ter Theor_)'

1 08

processes create for i ntegration . Parsons does, of course, write about power's production , but he i s concerned only with the facet of produ ction the ' T' inpu t , which is keyed to normative inte­ gration. He focuses a lmost exclusively on the solidary support for power and the problem of its generalization , and the generalizati o n of a medium , we must recall, implies for Pa r sons the relation to common values which he considers decisive for social integration. You might note here how similar this a mb i gu i ty is to the lacunae we discovered in Parsons' earlier treatment of rewards. While rewards were nominally defined as elements of allocation-as keyed, therefore, to efficient production of money and power-they were treated by Parsons much more in terms of their capacity, as carriers of pres t i g e to b r in g values to bear on political and economic power. ln that earlier case too, in other words, central aspects of allocation and production were tr eated as manifestations of i n teg ra tive de­ mands. This is not to say that Parsons' n o r m at i ve treatment of political production is unimporta n t . To the contrary , it is vital and inter­ esti n g . Still, this treatment is weakened by Parsons' failure to c onsider more con d i t io n a l inputs to power produ ction for example, the crucial issue of power's access to money and the contribution to its production of efficiency and coercion . Moreover, Parsons' treatment of the s oli d a r y input itself suffers from an unwarranted empirical ass u mption: he optimistically describes this input as resting on c o n sensu s and he underevaluates how often it is skewed by the unequal distribution of ideal and material goods. To the degree that such typ i ca l bases of solida r ity as class , race, region, and relig i on inv olv e i nequality there will be mo re than one " line" of extended solidarity . True , there must in every case exist an extended solidary sequence from family to larger association to political vote, but to the degree that i neq ual ity exists, this sequenci ng occurs in separated lines . I f this is true , then the s o l id a ry support for candidates will be a source of distrust and conflict rather than order and agreemen t . lt i s because of such divergent lines of support that po liti c al p arti e s in many countries " specify " so li d a r ity in fundamentally conflictual ways . In much the same way, the force of m aterial arrangements and the fragmentation bet wee n and within empirical subsystems can ,

,

,

,

Pa rsons ' La ter Theory

1 09

undermine the consensus building processes that Parsons has de­ scribed as coping with problems of unequal distribution. Inequality and discrimination weaken a dominated group's commitment to common rules of the game and common definitions of the situation . They also make it less likely that political winners will ever let the defeated parties return to power. While Parsons has sorely neglected these empirical possibilities, it is precisely his multidimensional analytical model which allows us to work them out . Once again we confront the paradox that haunts his entire work. Parsons' analytic reductionism , however, is only one element in this paradox ; there is also the moral or ideological one. Parsons began his great system-building effort to demonstrate not simply that reason depended on nonrational processes but that , in a modern society, such nonrational processes could form the basis for rea­ sonable action more broadly defined . He wished, further, to dem­ onstrate that the failure of analytical indi,,idualism did not mean that individuality could not be sustai ned in a supra-individual, more "societal" way . In his early empirical essays he was very affected by a sense of this moral side of his calling. Even in his later work­ for example, the writing on education-some explicitly moral at­ tention remains, even though the social achievemen t of i ndividuality and rationality is often made too easy by half. In much of his later work, hm•;ever , as the discussion of voting indicates, Parsons loses sight of his critical ideological ambit ion altogether . Having proved that rational voting in the U tilitarian sense is impossible, he leaves the question of substantive rationality aside . But surely, within the confines of complexity and cultural determination , the question of the relative rationality of voting remains significant. Societies can do much to i ncrease the education and insight of voters , to maintain their rationality in a nonreductionistic sense. M uch the same can be said for Parsons' later argument against individualistic theory , which suggests that political leaders cannot be held accountable in a direct, one-to-one way . One can grant the truth of this proposition and still believe that efforts to increase political accountability are viable. Laws which demand parliamen tary review of presidential actions or extend public access to information are examples of institutional structures upon which such efforts can be based. Finally, there is in Parsons' later work on politics a disturbing and, in light of his earlier work , a perplexing lack of concern for

1 10

Pa rso n s ' L a te r Theory

the relative universalism or particularism of political culture itself. Granted, the degree of common culture is central to stability and instability. Once stability is achieved, however, the moral status of the state remains i n doubt. It is not simply whether or not culture is shared and consensual but whether it is universalistic which decides whether the political system can sustain individual liberty and allow for the rational challenge to political authority. The irony of Parsons' later work is apparent. While he becomes increasingly successful in his effort to identify the social conditions within which reason and individuality can be ach ieved, he became less excited by the critical ideology which would make their insti­ tutionalization possible. This is not to say that Parsons actually gives up his democratic concerns. It was rather that in the optimism of the postwar world he became convinced (much as Hegel once had been) that reason and individuality were in the process of being realized in the political system of his own country . Less conscious of the distance between the ideal and real, he became more content to describe this system than to evaluate the possi­ blilities for its critique and transcendence . The consequences of this double reduction were fateful. Not only was Parsons ' later theorizing less lively , but it was much more vulnerable to attack . Once the hegemonic prestige of American society wavered, once the bloom of the postwar world began to fade, Parsons' commitment to "the American Century" made him seem to many ideologically obsolete . A moralistic attack began on his work, an attack which could seize on real explanatory problems. I nevitably, in the process of establishing these criticisms, anti­ Parsonian theorists obscured the real ideological and explanatory achievements of Parsons' \"�1d DPmocrCJ• in Germany ( N e w York : Doubleday 1 96i).

2

1 54

Rex a nd

the Problem

of Coercion

release . s He can accomplish this awkward marriage only by i nsisting that ritualized encounters are sharply bounded by external eco­ nomic and political conditions, indeed, that the former provide . . translations" of the latter . On the basis of this contention he can continue to maintain an ostensibly anti-cultural and anti-Parsonian . .conflict" position , as he did when he argued in a recent article that the concept of " norm" should b e struck from the language of sociology.6 Surely, however, this very suggestion demonstrates the risid ual, contradictory qualities in Collins' argument. How can the rituals of in terpersonal behavior avoid normative standard s that "socially" mediate emotion and perception? In many ways, then, Collins too has moved back to Parsons, and while his insights are often superior his work has also suffered from its failure to ap­ preciate the problems Parsons addressed . This appreciation is not forthcoming because an abstract antagonism to Parsons is at the very basis of the con flict traditio n .

Only i f a more "concrete

negation " is attempted can a general theory be established which sees conflict and order for what they actually are, specific and variable empirical conditions rather than generali zed theoretical assumptions. If such a general theor y were proposed, the residual categories which mar the work of these conftict theorists could be systematically included as elements within a larger whole. 7

None of the post-Parsonian theories we have considered here, anymore than Parsons' original theory , are s i mply theories for theory' s sake. True, they present models at a high level of gen­

erality; they are not attempts to explain specific empirical cases.

Yet the models are oriented to explanatory concerns and their ambition is t o reorient empirical sociology in turn. In th t: thirty years since its articulation, conflict t h eory has had an enormous impact on the practice of empirical sociology , producing a " conflict perspective" in every empirical field. Deviance has been reconcep•

6

Randall Collins, Conflict Sociology (New Yor k : Academic Press, 1 975). Col lins, "On the Microfoundations of M acrosociology," :\ml'rican journal

Sociology ( 1 9 8 1 ), 86:99 1 , 1 1 will su ggest i n m y

of

n. 3 . concluding lecture , indeed, that in h i s latest work. Collins may, in fact, be moving in precisely th is direction. One can find in his work i ncreasing reference to Dur kheim's cu ltural th eo ry and even to Parsons' . See, e.g., Collins, .. T he Durkheimian Tradition in Conflict Theory ," in jeffrey C . Alexander, ed . , Durkhl'imian Sociology (New York: Cambridge U n iversity Press, 1 987).

Rex a n d the P roblem

of Coercio11

1 55

tualized as the product of a ruling group's control over definitions of powerless behavior. Professions are explained on the basis of a monopo ly of expert knowledge and as the result of successfu l power struggles by practitioners against patie nts. Racial discrimination is portrayed as internal colonialism , as resulting from power conflicts between initial settlers and newcomers. The status differences cre­ ating stratification are conceived as power differences dependent on the control of material facilities or information, and group inequality has been linked to the capitalist class . Politics is linked to resource mobilization and group struggles, and revolution is portrayed as an " a nti-voluntaristic" response to shifting material conditions. U nderdevelopment is conceived as the product of a world system dominated by Western capitalist states. Conversations between men and women are explai ned as a struggle situation which , in principle , is not different from the conflict of rape. Much more could be said along these lines, but let me conclude by suggesting this outpouring of empirical work cannot by any means be equated w ith scientific progress. The errors of the postwar generations haunt the work of contempories. While conflict theory has provided a crude, if sometimes incisive, model for empirical research , its restricted scope has set strict lim its which have forced this empirical work to introduce yawn ing residual categories and frustrating ad hoc explanations . None of these empirical studies has fully avoided the issues of consciousness and moral control , nor have these studies ever completely avoided some reference to systems as such . The)' ha\'e merely been forced to sneak such issues in by the back door, leaving logical i nconsistencies in their work of an often embarrassing kind . Nor will further empirical research be able to vitiate these errors-an old sociological saw. They are located in theoretical l ogic. To correct them , we must engage more general levels of analysis. This is precisely the task in which these last two lectures have been engaged .

LECT C R E TE�

E X C H A N G E T H E O RY

( 1 ):

GEO RGE H O M AN S ' I N S I G HT S

T

H E B R E A C H W I T H Parsons' functionalism established by conflict theory indicates how theoretical change pro­ ceeds along both scientific and s ocial tracks. The growing disappointment with the performance of Western societies after World War II provided ideological motive for conflict theory's dissent, and the presuppositional disagreement with Pars on s mul­ tidimensional , sometimes normative bent provided the theoretical rationale for an intellectual challenge. Cont ra st i ng empirical "find­ ings," of course, also played a role , though I am inclined to see these more as the product of ideological and presuppositional shifts than as indep e n den t factors in their own right. After all, Parsons was himself exposed to the same changing empirical milieu, and he came up with very different empirical descriptions . In back of these immediate, initiating factors there stood the theoretical tra­ ditions which the dominance of Parsons' structural-functional theory had effectively denied, the traditions whose classical status allowed them to be crucial legitimating resources for the constructio n of alternati..,· e, anti-Parsonian t heories. I n t h e case of Rex's conflict approach , the critically significant traditions were M arxism and an instrumentalized form of W eberian theory. Shortly after conflict theory c h all en g e d Parsons' hegemony t here emerged an equally determ i n ed critical movement which em p ha­ sized rational exchange. At first the work primarily of one man, George Homans, and the book he pu bl ish e d in 1 96 1 , Social Behavior: Its Elementar)' Forms, 1 "exchange theory" soon became a widespread '

1

George Caspar Hornans, Social Behavior: Its Elrmenla r)' Fo rms and World, 1 9 6 1 ).

Brace,

(New York: Harcourt,

Geo rge Homa n s ' Insights

1 57

movement throughout the social sciences. I t gained not only major adherents but influential revisers-some of whom we will consider later in this set of lectures-and it deeply affected sociological work in virtually every empirical field. One reason for this success, it seems to me, is that exchange theory closely resembles the com­ monsense perspective on everyday life in Western society . But there are other factors as well, and it is these intellectual and sociological issues which will occupy us today. When Homans first presented exchange theory, in an article in the American journal of Sociology in 1 95 8 , 2 it was in the context of an anniversary issue devoted to one of the great doyens of classical sociology, Georg Simmel. Yet while Homans claimed Simmel's patronage, and while he drew substantially on the more contem­ porary tradition of Skinner's behaviorist psychology , the real tra­ dition that Homans reclaimed for post-Parsonian sociology was classical economics. Classical economic theory was born in the seventeenth century in the work of John L ocke and formalized by the work of the Scottish moral philosophers, especially Adam Smith, who formulated the famous notion of " laissez-faire . " It reached a high po i n t in the work of the nineteenth-century U tilitarians, Ben­ tham, Ricardo, and Mill. You may remember that I talked in my introductory lectures about the critical role played by classical economics in the ration­ alistic and i n d i vidualistic theorizing of the n i n eteenth century. The theory described social life as the exchange of more or less equal commodities between m ore or less rational individuals. The rise of this mode of analysis, therefore , can certainly be seen a s tied very strongly to progressive developments in Western cultural and social history. I t viewed institutions a s built upon the conscious interests of inherently rational individuals . 1\ot only economics but politics, too, can be viewed in this light, for at the heart of classical economic theory stands the notion of contract. Just as economic life is con­ ceived as based on contracts between individuals, political life is viewed as one great contract between citizens and their government. This political contract theory formed one of the most important 2 Homans, '' Social Behavior as Exchang e , " 6 2 : 597-606.

.-'\ merican Journal of Sociology ( 1 9 58),

George Hom a ns ' Insigh ts

1 58

intellectual j ustifications for the development of democratic soci­ eties . It argued that , because society is com pose d of free and u nconstrained individuals , governing political forms should b e ar­ ranged to respect this "natural" freedom . But classical economic theory was not simply a philosophy , an articulation of general presuppositions about action and order. It was also an explanatory, highly specific em p iri cal theory . Indeed , it pr od uc e d the first body of social scientific theory v..·hich could be mathematically articulated , developing equations that predicted th i n gs like prices, value , profit, and cost s . T h is specificity allowed it to have great practical effect , and it was deeply i nvolved i n both the successes and the failures of nineteenth-century ca pit al ist econ­ om ies. Behind its explanatory propositions there stood a critically important model of interest relations in the empirical world. Ac­ cording to this model, economic actors were ration a l , to be sure, but t h ey could act only as individuals. How , then , could their actions be coordinated? This occurs, the classical model proposed, through the " invisible hand" of the market. I ndividuals make their choices on the basis of efficient self-i nterest, but the market arranges the context of each decision so that it results in the best interest of all . The m a r k et makes sure that prices go dow n , for example , when goods are over supplied. Since a lower price for a good m a kes its p u rc ha se attractive, the potential surplus in that good, which could create problems for the seller, wil l soon be overcome. In this way rational individual exchange will lead , inevitably, to equilibrium and harmony. The model posits what one great com­ mentator on this t r a d i ti o n , Elie H a levy, cal led the natural identity of interests. � Yet for many participants in, a n d obse r v ers of, th i s early capitalist system, the p ro p osa l that there was a natural identity of interests seemed ideological and absurd. Faced with the instabil i ty and con­ flict of early capitalism they took the individualism of economic exchange theory severely to task . They argued, aga i n st the classical model , that the sources of social order lay outside individual control , that such collective forces usually made the partners in exchange s

See Halevy's The Growl"

1 972).

of P"ilosophic Ra dicalism

( 1 90 1 - 1 90 4 ; :-.lew York: Kelley . ,

George Homans' Insights

159

unequal, and that this inequality explained the conflict and insta­ bility of the time. Utilitarian reformers like Bentham argued that a strong English state should redistribute power so that an "artificial identity of interest" (Halevy's term again) could be formed between economically and politically contesting groups. :\farx, though more radical, agreed with Bentham's attack on the natural identity theo­ rem of classical economics. He differed by insisting that such an artificial identity of interests could be achieved only through socia list revolution. Stimulated by political and ideological concerns, then, these chal­ lengers to classical economic exchange theory raised profound theoretical-in my terms, presuppositional-issues. It is important to see , however, that whi le criticizing the reigning conception of order as too individualistic, they did not challenge its perception of action. Bentham and �1arx both viewed people as behaving in a rational and efficient way. Cultural constraints , good or bad, were not for them sources of instability, nor could they become the grounds for renewed cooperation. In fact, reformist Utilitarians and Marxian socialists both associated the influence of norms and ideals with the conservative forces they opposed. For the Utilitarian, they were associated with the customs and honors of the aristocracy and the superstitions of the Church: for the :Marxists they implied the false liberal ideals of the bourgeoisie. J\ormative factors, in other words, implied irrational a nd antirational, not simply non­ rational actio n. They stood in the way of the equality these critics of laissez-faire exchange wanted to create. If you see in this nineteenth-century challenge to classical eco­ nomics the outlines of "conflict theory," you are certainly right to do so. Bentham and Marx laid the basis for Rex's work. It was bv '

drawing on these traditions that Rex equated material inequality with conflict , and reform

with changes in external conditions.

Moreover, just as Marx's well intentioned theories often led to the coercive imposition of "equality from above," so, we have seen, did conflict theory end up supporting a coercive understanding of the nature of social control. Now where does all this leave Homans, the man who revived classical economic theorizing in the late twentieth century? It seems to me that by reviving exchange theory Homans sought to reverse

160

George Homans' Insights

this historical process. Despite its elegance and often penetrating insight, Homans' work must, in the end, be viewed as an effort to turn back the clock, theoretically and ideologically. Let me develop this point a little further by drawing on Homans' own statements about his work. Homans' theory, despite its positivist search for explanation, is still a form of self-reflection. Like Parsons and Rex before him, Homans' was responding to what h e viewed as the crisis of Western society. The formative years for him , as for Parsons, were the Depression years of the 1930s. His mature exchange theory, and its popularization, coincided with the breakdown of postwar con­ sensus in the late 1950s and early 1960s. I have suggested earlier that the renewal of ideological pessimism in this period meant a break with the optimism of Parsons' liberal faith . Only now , as we turn to H omans, is it clear that the alternative to this optimistic faith did not necessari ly have to come from the left . Homans is a man of the American right. He offered a conservative challenge to a liberal, reformist understanding of the social system in our time . Homans' intention is to restore the notion that a natural identity of interests exists between men . No great external impediments stand in the way of equality and cooperation, he believes, and no complicated theory of human motivation is necessary to explain how men may act to bring this about. Common sense will prevail, against the perceptions and often the interests of dissatisfied groups. Ideological and theoretical motives, then, were involved i n the development of exchange theory, a fact clearly acknowledged in a remarkable autobiographical passage ,.,.hich appears in the intro­ duction Homans made to the collection of his essays. Homans begins his recollection by establishing the link between the Depres­ sion experience and his search for a new, more viable sociological theory. Someone has said that much modern sociology is an effort to answer the arguments of the revolutionaries. As a Republican Bostonian who had not rejected his comparatively wealthy family, I felt during the thirties that I was under personal attack, above all from Marxists.

George Homans· Insights

161

Homans goes on to describe his encounter with Pareto, a theorist who opposed Marxian economics while agreeing with Marx that interests determined action. I was ready to believe Pareto because he provided me with a defense . His was an answer to Marx because an amplification of him. Marx had taught that the economic and political theories of the bourgeoisie-and I was clearly a bourgeois­ were rationalizations of their interests. Pareto amplified \hrx by showing that this was true of most theories of human behavior. . . At least the proletariat had no more intellectual justification in demanding my money or my life-and it looked as if they were demandin g both, and my liberties to boot­ than I had for defending myself. Emotional justification was something else again . If we could only meet as honest men-or honest rationalizers-we might divide up the take without fighting . It was the intellectual guff talked about by the alleged leaders of the proletariat that put one's back up and got in the way of a settlement. 4 .

.

.

.

One sees clearly from this forthright statement how Homans' renewal of rationalistic and individualist theory provided, simul­ taneously, an understanding of, a defense against, and a solution for the instability of the day . It provided an understanding because it frankly acknowledged the clash of interests which were at stake in the class war . Such recognition could be made with a clean conscience, moreover, because the tenets of exchange theory held that no party to negotiation is more rational or more powerful than any other. Herein lies Homans' defense, for this theory cannot envision either side as having access to a higher, more legitimate "reason"; all such claims can, then, be denigrated as irrational, emotional rationalizations of interest. As Homans wrote in his systematic presentation of exchange theory: "Some of the greatest profiteers we know are altruists. "5 How, finally, does such a th�ory of exchange provide a solution? S ince its individualistic assumptions recognize no fundamental differences in power, the parties engaged in conflict are said to be able to meet "as honest men." Honest George 'George

•

C. Homans, Srntimml> and ;\clit·iliP.i C. Homans, Social Beha;•zbr, p. 79.

(New York:

Free Press,

1962),

p. 4.

162

George Homans' Insights

men will readily admit that greed is their motive, and harmony will be restored once the spoils are divided. The ideology behind H omans' exchange theory, then, sharply departs from Parsons' liberal and essentially humanistic vision . It acknowledges no possibility that higher reason or ultimate good can be realized in social life , that actors might transcend their self­ interest for the greater welfare, that society might be able to institutionalize collective justice. From the perspective of Homans' exchange theory, the ideal of a community of brotherhood is a delusion. Cooperation, not community, is the intended model, some­ thing which can be ach ieved through individuals acting on the principle of "I'll scratch your back if you'll scratch mine." Faced with the exploitation and reckless power that systems inspired by this philosophy have often legitimated, you might be inclined to condemn Homans as an irresponsible conservative . But one con­ sideration s hould give pause: Homans is himself fiercely committed to political liberty and to the autonomy of the individual conscience. In the course of introducing his systematic theory, he says at one point that if people are "Yankees-white Anglo-Saxon Protestants living in New England-they hold a taste for the fruits of conscience as dearly won as a taste for olives . "6 He himself is the quintessential Yankee, so he speaks here from self-knowledge. Homans, then, has no personal wish to justify the elimination of human ideals, least of all the commitment to voluntarism and individual will. Like most individualistic and rationalistic theorists, however , he seems unable to appreciate how difficult such freedoms are to realize in the modern world. Still, ideology is not the exclusive determinant of sociological theory. Ideology inclines a theorist toward one position or another, but it i s the range of other commitments which , taken together, finally determine in which direction theorizing will go. Let us examine now the process of specifically theoretical reasoning by which Homans arrives at h is post-Parsonian thinking about ex­ change . To begin, we must recall that ever}' challenging theory in the postwar period had to create its own Parsons. Each had to develop •

Ibid.,

p. 46.

George Homans' Insights

163

a negative target which would justify its own positive theoretical claims. This straw man, however, was never made up of straw alone. The challenger could be successful only if his polemic was directed at real weaknesses in Parsons' thought, the resolution of which would be welcomed by significant members of the sociological community. For Homans, this construction of a straw man was more than a mere academic exercise . It was redolent \Vith personal meaning. He and Parsons had been colleagues in the Harvard department for many years. He had been a student when Parsons had been a young i nstructor in the 1930s. Parsons was always "just ahead" of Homans throughout his scientific career. Homans' "Parsons" resembles the Parsons of conflict theory. Because both theories insist that action has an exclusively instru­ mental hue, they find Parsons to be an exclusively normative theorist. Yet Homans' Parsons also differs from conflict theory's in critical ways. First, because H omans insists on the !>uperiority of individualistic theories he must paint Parsons in a much more anti­ individualistic -way. Second, because Homans is committed to a very different form of scientific theorizing he must bring in an i ssue which never existed in the conflict debate , the methodological question of the proper mode of explanation. While Homans' objections to Parsons' mode of explanation were not, in m y view, central to his substantive theoretical claims, they did become central to later developments in post-Parsonian theory. Homans claimed that structural-functional theory is not truly sci­ entific. It is much too general and abstract, too con cerned with producing concepts and definitions, too focused on the formulation of general models. As a result, Homan!> suggests, functionalist theory cannot be really explanatory. Because there is a great distance between its generalized level and the processes of any specific society, functionali!>m cannot name the precise cause of any specific effect. Homans put it this way in his presidential address to the American Sociological A!>sociation in 1964, a speech which became a central element in post-Par!>onian developments: " I take it that what sociology has to explain are the actual features of actual societies and not just the generalized features of a generalized society .''7 To achieve the desirable specificity, Homans insists, the7

Homans,

"'Bringing \len Back In,"' American Sociological Rn•ieuJ

(1964), 29:813.

164

George Homans' Insights

orists must work on the propositional level . Propositions are if/ then statements which lea,·e no doubt about precise predictions or about the suggested cause of predicted effects. It is my view that Homans is wrong in this explanatory dispute, though not necessarily wrong in his more general critique of Par­ sons. I mentioned in an earlier lecture that Parsons' theory has an uncomfortably abstract quality and that especially in the later work he had great trouble moving from general models to propositions about specific societies. Furthermore , propositions are, indeed, cen­ tral to sociological theorizing, since it is only in its "empirical payoff' that theorizing (in contrast, for example, with philosophy) ultimately makes any sense. This said, theory which claims to consist entirely of propositions is self-deceiving, and to the degree that Homans helped to lead sociology down this path he helped spread a sterilizing illusion. A body of simple propositions may look as if it is standing alone, but in fact it can emerge only from more complex comceptual schemes. Propositions depend on general and widely ramifying models, and they are always undergirded by pre­ suppositions about action and order. Whether a theorist is aware that these other levels inform his propositional work, and whether these levels are latent or explicit, is irrelevant. \\'hile Homans himself insists that his theory is simply propositional, we will see in the followin g discussion that his apparently simple statements carry heavier and more general theoretical baggage. In fact, it is precisely such general considerations which lay behind the other parts of the straw man Homans constructs. Like conflict theory, exchange theory insists that the chief characteristic of functionalism is its focus on norms, that norms are the principal resources for the definition of social roles, and that roles are the basis of a functionalist view of society. Unlike a conflict theorist, however, Homans does not complain that this normative focus eliminates social conflict. Homans himself, after all , is committed to the natural (i.e. , harmonious) identity of interests. \'Vhat Homans complains about is something entirely different, something which is much more closely connected to the nature of the theory he seeks to propose. Norms and roles, he complains, refer only to the collective, institutional framework of action, not to action itself. To really explain action you need a theory of "subinstitutional"

George Homans' Insights

165

behavior. 8 Because functionalists focused on norms and roles, he insists, "they took conformity to norms for granted ."9 Homans suggests, by contrast, that rules cannot spell e veryt hi ng out in ad va nce that the concrete reality of interaction means that things are always changing. As he writes in his introduction to Social Behavior: "It takes time for rules to get formulated, and once formulated they tend to stay on the books for relatively, though not absolutely, long stretches of time. In the mean time the actual behavior of individuals goes on, changing with changin g circum­ stances." If, t h erefo r e sociology is to be truly explanatory, it must focus on these changing circumstances . These changing circum­ stances , the new or changing elements in action , are the "contin­ gent" elements. Since "no rule can spell out in enough detail how persons should behave in every contingency,"10 it is behavior and not rules which sociology should describe. Homans' sociology will, in the words of his presidential add ress, "bring men back in." With this claim that Parsonian theo ry ig nores the actual behavior of real individuals Homans opened up a vein which t heorists would mine for years to come . It revealed real weakness in Parsons' theorizing, and it c ertainly spoke to deep-rooted theoretical dis­ content. The focus on beh a v i o r over against norms-in the name of interaction , individuality , intentionality , o r microsociology-has been one of the central disputes in the field since Homans' time. It is also a dispute, however, which can never be carried out in the name of the individual alone. Wh ile the individual versus c ollec ti v ity d ispute refers to the problem of order, there remains the other presuppositional problem the problem of action. Homans' "subinstitutional" behavior is, inevitably, behavior of a specific type, and the men he brings back in are men with certain particular (in my view quite limited) capacities. Exchange theory is not simply individualism, it is ration a l is ti c individualism. Homans' individuals are economizers, exchangists, men v.·ho act in the name of efficiency. This insistence on a certai n type of action is camouflaged by Homans' individualistic objec tion to norms, but it is equally re­ sponsible for the most notable characteristics of his work. ,

,

,

8

Homans, Social Behavior, pp. 391-398. "Bringing Men Back In," p. 814. 10 Social Bl'hm,ior, p. 3.

9

166

George Homans' Insights

The model Homans proposes for subinstitutional behavior is derived from economics. According to this tradition , individual interaction consists in sanctioning and rewarding, and the response of each individual to the other is geared to the "payoff" each receives. What you do, and how much you do of it, depends on the amount and kind of reward you get . Since this is just as true of the person with whom you interact, interaction amounts to nothing more than an exchange of rewards. The more often an action is rewarded, and the more valuable this reward is, the more often you will repeat it. The value of a reward is determined by its supply: how much have you had of it lately and how much more do you need? Your supply determines whether a reward will be valuable to you, your partner's determines how much he is willing to give . The quantity and nature of your reward, however, are not the only factors determining your profit from interaction . There is also the element of cost. To pursue an action you must spend certai n resources; most importantly, you must forgo other poten­ tially fruitful lines of action. Profit is reward minus cost . Action must be mutually profitable to proceed. Homans call this "the open secret of human exchange."11 The secret is to give up something that is more valuable to the other person than it is costly to you, and to find a way of persuading him or her to give you things that are more valuable to you than costly to them. This perception of behavior as cal ibrated exchange leads to a vision of social order as depending on continuous negotiation. If you do not get the response you want, you will try to increase the reward you offer. For example, people "can make each unit of approval they give to others a warmer kind of approval."12 You may also try to increase the value of each "unit of reward" by mak ing it more scarce. Homans bel ieves that continuous profit from interaction requires just such constant calculation and inge­ nuity, for he sees no extra-individual structure�. neither norms nor conditions, which have any binding effect. Continuous activity, moreover, leads to continuous comparison with others. Is another person getting more for his activity toward me than I am getting " !bid p . ·�!bid., p. ..

62. 66.

George Homans' Insights

167

for thi s same activity toward him? Given his low costs, is he receiving too much? This is the problem of distributive justice. Homans says this is also vital to every exchange , for it determines just what amount of reward is actuaBy enough. Homans has provided a simple and elegant model of action and order. Let us consider some of its achievements before exploring the problems it raises. Exchange theory challenges functional ism on both action and order. Since I have suggested earlier that there are critical respects in which Parsons' positions on both issues are problematic , it should not be particularly surprisi ng when I tell you that there are im­ portant areas where exchange theory makes significant and welcome contributions. I considered the problem of action at some length in my lectures on conflict theory, for this was also a point of challenge for Rex , and I spoke about Parsons' ambivalent position on action in earlier discussions of his work. Formally, Parsons produced a multidimensional approach to action; substantively, he often emphasized its normative over its instrumental forms. His conception of the unit act includes ends , means, and norms, and his analysis of the social system includes allocation and integration (in the middle period) and AGI L (in the later). Yet Parsons chose to identify his early unit act theorizing as "voluntaristic," and he often used it to negate instrumental perspectives in an abstract way. In his later work, the centrality of reward allocation and the uneven application of the AGIL interchange model o ften biased Parsons' systematic models . There were times when Parsons pre­ sented society as if norms would be foll o w ed and social order ensured if only socialization were strong enough. In fact , however , the more multidimensional strands of his theory lead to a very different conclusion, namely that external conditions, calculations of efficiency, and self-interest always mediate subjective expecta­ tions. By underplaying the cognitive dimension of action and over­ playing the moral and emotional, Parsons underemphasized the means/ends calculations about efficiency which Homans puts at the center of his work. Homans' presuppositional critique relates to order as well. Parsons clearly is wedded to a collectivist account . He maintains that in­ dividualistic theories i mply randomness and that for this reason

168

George Homans' Insights

they cannot "solve" the problem of order. Does this mean, however, that Parsons believed sociology should not talk about individual action or the process of interaction between individuals? In prin­ ciple, it does not mean this at all . Parsons himself spent a good deal of The Structure of Social Action detailing the components of individual acts. He emphasized that every act i nvolves an element of "effort," a contingent, temporal quality that refers to free will . In the middle period work, furthermore, Parsons outlined a par­ adigm of interaction which he called the "dyad," in which ego and alter sanction and reward one another within the context of es­ tablished norms and conditions. This dyad, you may recall, was crucial for Parsons' attempt to explain how dissatisfaction with norms can lead to deviance. Parsons emphasized , in this regard, the "double contingency" of interaction . One can even find several points in Parsons' work where he emphasized the significance of individual , contingent responses and the importance of the m anip­ ulation of instrumental means. In his analysis of socialization, for example, he recounts how the withdrawal of parental reward leads children to alter the means they e m ploy to gain their ends-the cries, the sounds, the facial expressions, the mode of pleasure­ seeking behavior they employ. It is the creation of new means, Parsons insists, which allows new norms to develop in the parent­ child interaction and only then are different u nderstandings inter­ nalized and the transition to different phases of socialization com­ pleted.1� A collectivist theory , then, even a functionalist one, certainly can acknowledge and even highlight the role of individual, contingent activity . A crucial distinction must be made here between empirical level of analysis and presuppositional approach to order. In his discussions of individual interaction Parsons focused on a particular empirical process, a level of analysis. He was doing so, however, within a presuppositional context that was decidedly collectivist, since he emphasized that such contingent action occurs in rela­ tionship to (internally and externally) socially structured constraints. It is one thing to focus on the individual as the point of one's "See, for example, Talcott Parsons, "Family Structure and the Socialization of the Child, .. pp. 35-132, in Parsons and Robert F. Bales, eds., Famil)', SocializatWn, and Interaction Process

(New

York: Free Press,

19!'15).

George Hom a ns' Insights

169

empirical analysis and quite another to adopt, as Homans proposes, an individualistic position in terms of one's presuppositions about the sources of patterned action in general . A collectivist theorist may , indeed, focus empirically on the level of individual interaction or even on the level of the personality itself. Likewise, an individ­ ualistic theorist may try to expl ai n not the isolated individual but a group or even a nation-state. T he point at issue is the more ge neral analytical assumptions which are made about such empirical processes, i.e . , how relatively important are a priori socialized attitudes or coercive structures as compared with historically spe­ cific, contingent , individual signals and responses? Yet, once again, while it is true that Parsons' functionalist theory can, in principle, i nclude the element that Homans made the point of his challenge , it is equally certain that Parsons' particular ap­ plication of this theory gives Homans' challenge legitimate grounds. Collectivist theory need not ignore the individual level of analysis, and Parsons does not always do so. Still, he usually does. H is is a systems theory . I t focuses almost exlusively on levels larger than the individual, on groups, institutions, subsystems, value patterns.To conceptualize these larger-than-life units Parsons assumes that there is, of course, a level of individual interaction. While he does not deny the fact of contingency, however, he assumes that there is a probability that contingent action will conform with normative patterns and the institutional balance of punishments and rewards. How systemic processes actually articulate with individual capacities and interactions is not something that Parsons ever spells out or even seems particularly concerned about. This leaves in functionalist theory a gaping e m pi r ical hole, for the individual and the dyad constitute a critical level of empirical life. T hey are not more important than a group, an institution, or a system, but neither are they less important either. Larger processes always involve smaller, micro units; if the workings of these s m al l er units are not explicated we can never fully account for equilibrium in social systems nor for their change. Exchange theory, then, supplies a significant corrective to func­ tionalist work. Its focus on contingency illuminates a new level of analysis, its emphasis on rational action counterbalances a dangerous presuppositional tilt. By acknowledging exchange the vocabulary

170

George Homans' Insights

of functionalist thoery can be expanded in significant ways. Thus, while institutionalized norms pro,•ide standards for choosing ap­ propriate means, specific means still must be chosen. Normative standards must be put to use, and within the context of these normative standards considerations about the efficiency of means is an important criterion of choice. Since norms are more general than any particular case, we usually have a choice between several legitimate means. One way we make a choice is by testing a line of action for its cost and reward. We compare the rewards which are available for different actions and the profitability and relative justice of each. But the "uses

of contingency" go even

deeper

than this . How do

we know what is a "means" and what a "condition"? How, in other words, do we know what in our material situation is possible to change and make our own (i.e., a means) and what we must take as unalterable (i.e., as a condition)? Simply to state the matter in this way demonstrates how contingency and calculation are involved. While the conditions of action appear in systems analysis as unal­ terable parameters, in terms of individual interaction this appear­ ance is contingently arrived at. It is the individuals who separate, in the course of each action, what is unalterable from what can be put to their use, what must be acknowledged as a condition from what can be used as a means. They do environments. They decide,

given

so

by testing their

their current priorities a nd re­

sources, what part of that environment would simply be too ex­ pensive to alter. If it is too costly, they treat it as out of reach­ a "condition" for that particular act. It is through this same kind of trial and error process that individuals set new goal s in response to their changing external environments. We establi sh new goals according to what we conceive to be contingently possible, not simply in accord with what is consistent with previous goals and with general norms. What is efficient depends on what other means are available to us, what rewards are forthcoming, what our costs are, and how we compare these to what is available to other actors. Exchange theory, moreover, demonstrates how such contingent considerations of efficiency affect even the operation of norms themselves. For example, in the course of interaction within a role, how do we know whether role definitions-the relevant institu-

George Homans' Insights

171

tionalized norms-are actually being shared, whether the person with whom we are acting is beh a v i n g consistently or contrarily to our role expectations? In part, we know this simply by interpreting his action in relation t o our internalized expectations. But something else is involved . We are also very sensitive to whether the re wards he is providing us are too costly for us to reciprocate. Can we afford to cooperate, given our own expenses and supplies? Can we afford the means to respond effectively to our partner's acts? Do we feel that the rewards we are giving are morally appropriate relative to the rewards he is giving us in return? Finally, if we decide that our partner's actions do not conform to our expecta­ tions , how do we carry out the sanctions im;olved in social control? We begin to withdraw our rewards . To do so, however, we must carefully calibrate their effectiveness in making more costly the course of the other's acts. What I h a ve done here is to insert the c on ceptu al vocabulary of exchange into the broader framework of functionalism . I am sug­ gesting that this revised neofunctionalist theory may be preferable to Parsons' origin a l . It is ce r t a in ly also different from Homans' own. Homans was not trying to fill out functionalist theory, to add a new level of analysis, or to keep it from being biased in o n e way or another. Homans sought to repla c e functionalism completely and to put in its place a theory which had no use for broader frameworks or for an yth i n g other than rational individual acts. For Hom ans action is simply exchange, and individual ne gotiation is not an empirical level of analysis but the presupposition of order itself. Exchange theory focuses on con tingent elements as opposed to structured o n es and on quantitative, calculable motives rather than subjective, interpretable ones. While we may recognize the broader significance of Homans' t heory and the fundamental cor­ rectives it offers to Parsons' work, this does not amount to an evaluation of Homans' theory as such . I will get to this in the next lecture. ,

,

LECTURE ELEVEN

EXCHANGE THEORY

(2):

HOMANS AND THE INDIVIDUALIST DILEMMA

W

E ENDED the last lecture with a problem. Granted that exch an ge theo ry generates strong insights a bou t pa rt ic u l a r aspects of social behavior and the co n stru c t i on of social order, is it, in fact, a general theory of action and order as such? How might we answer this question? Well, one thing we might do is to turn to the theory's em p ir i cal claims. If we find there descriptions or pr opo s i t i on s which do not seem empi ricall y valid the theory's universality is thrown into doubt. This criticism

would have the same status as the question I raised about Rex's claim that postwar capitalist society remained a two-class system. Let us, then, accept for the sake of argument H o ma n s ' presup­ posi tions and m ode ls and loo k rather, at some of h is specific predictions. Evaluating the cost of a t y pical action, he suggests at one point that asking for help is ex pe nsi ve because it is humil­ iating. ,

"

"

[A] person can either d o his own work o r get help from and give appro v al to Other. If he does his ow n work he forgoes the value of getting help. But if he c hoose s to ge t h elp what value does he forgo? We believe that under these circumstances he, like many men, forgo es the value that we ordinarily call self-respect, the fee lin g that he is good e no u gh to do h i s own work w itho u t help.' 1 Homans, Social BPhm,ior: lis Elementary Forms (�ew York: Harcourt, Brace, and 61. Pa ge references to Homans' Social BPhm•ior will hereafter be

World, 196 1), p.

given parentheticallr in the text.

Homans and the IndiL7dualist Dilemma

173

But is asking for h elp inherently a cost? Is self-respect always based on maintaining the kind of absolute i n depe n de n ce that this prop­ osition implies? How, indeed, can a subjective concept like " self­ respect" enter into an e xc h ange t heory in the first place? Sim ilar empirical questions are raised by another proposition Homans makes, this time about t he exchange of punishment. "The more one hits," he states, "the more the other hits back, for it is rewarding to hurt someone that hurts you" (p. 57). Perhaps, but certainly not in religious orders or utopian societies! Like his proposition about help, this seems a clearly culture-bound statement. In strictly em­ p iri cal terms we have to wonder whether Homans has based his generalizations on data too narrow to support them. This suspicion seems justified by the frank aside, early in his book , which allows that he has relied almost purely on American sources: "Though I believe that the general features of elementary social behavior are shared by all mankind, I believe it as a matter of faith only, and the evidence that I sh al l i n fact adduce is almost w h ol l y American" (p. 7). Yet however such empirical issues raise questions about the ge n erali ty of Homans' work, they are not sufficient, in themselves, to undermine his th eory. Other data can b e found and, given Homans' theoretical power, there is little d oubt he could construe such data as giving mo re support. It is exactly this kind of "mopping up'' operation which occupies the followers of a theoretical master. What we must do, then, is to examine H omans' general framework itself. It is this general framework that presupposes Homans' per­ ception of the em pi r ic al data and sharply constrains every atte mpt at empirical reconstruction. If I criticize Homans' empirical state­ ments it is merely my word against his. If, however, I find con­ tradictions and strains inside his theorizing, I may be able to gain Homans' su pport, as it were, against h imself. If H omans must introduce significant residual categories into his thinking, this amounts to an implicit acknowledgment that significant weaknesses exist and points the way, in spite of itself, to theoretical alternatives.2 If ad hoc statements made by Homans himself contradict his own 2

I discussed this interpretive strategy of looking at residual categories in lecture

I, above.

1 74

Homa ns a n d the Individualist Dilnn ma

theory's systematic intent, we are on firmer ground i n questioning the theory ourselves. Let us consider, then, Homans' presupposi­ tions about action and order, and let us see whether he can maintain the principles of exchange theory in a consistent way. Homans insists on the complete rationality of action . His actor is concerned only with efficiency and profit. I nto these objective calculations feelings and subjective value inclinations never intrude or, to state the issue in terms of exchange, feelings and subjective inclinations follow and are formed by calculations about profit . The actor' s ability to calculate, his capacity for rationality, is never problematic; it is not something that has to be learned . Because it is an innate capacity, the theorist's (and the actor's) attention is always directed outside the self to visible, concrete things . Profit, you recall, is reward minus cost, and reward is based on the external stimulus received . The first question to ask about reward is a quantitative one: how much is received? The second is qualitative: what kind of stimulus is it, hov.· much is it valued? Value is also objectively calculable, for it is a matter of external supply: how much of this stimuli has been received in the past? Cost, for its part , refers to resources lost, either through outright expenditure or through objective opportunities foregone. If we know the external situation of the actor, then we must know how he will act . Since the rationality of his action is taken for granted , the environment of this action will determine its course. Since it is rational calculation of material, visible factors-basically, of quantity and supply-which determines profitabi lity, determi­ nation of the cou rse of action can be made as easily by the scientist­ observer as by the actor h imself. Such behavior is predictable for the social scientist, and it is predictability and precise explanation which, according to Homans, one strives for in sociological theory . This predictability would be impossible if subjective , internal states of mind were allowed into theoretical play, for in this case the actor's (and the scientist' s) calculations about external conditions would be mediated by nonrational , less easily visible facts. It is for all these reasons, presuppositional as well as method­ ological, that Homans is led to make the radical claim that internal states do not actually exist, at least not independently of external\y observable acts.

Homans a nd the ln dil'idualist Dilem m a

175

Sentiments are not i nternal states o f a n individual any more than words are. They are not inferred from overt behavior : they a re overt behavior and so are directly observable. They are, accordingly , activ ities (and) we need no special proposi­ tions to describe their effects. (p. 34) In theory , therefore , Homans' actors do not have an interna l consciousness which i s differentiated from their external activity. Taken to its logical conclusion this means they have no memory , for memory would allow the sentiments attached to past acts to accumulate independently and to intrude on present ones. Because Homans l i nks sentiments to present activities, he feels compelled to eliminate memories about "options foregone" from his for­ mulations about cost . Opportunities can refer only to present op­ tions, options which are objectively observable: " For an activity to incur cost, " he writes, "an alternative and rewarding activity must be there to be foregone . " We shall consider as costs only those forgone rewards that remain available throughout the period in '"" h ich a particular activity is being em itted, as the reward of escaping from fatigue is open to the pi geon th roughout the time it is pecking. If I am offered two j obs, only o n e of which I can take, no doubt I shall find it painful to make up my mind; but as soon as I have taken one and turned down the other , which is then no longer open to me because someone else has gotten it, then the rewards of the job I let go are no longer a cost to me in doing the job I t ook . (p . 59) I f the ability for memory to affect cost has disappeared, then

H omans may be right in likening men to pigeons. If memory exists, however, this analogy breaks down , for wh ile pigeons may respond only to present opportunities , men with sensibilities certai nly do not . Homans has presented a systematic and consistently rationalistic perspective, even if it has been at the cost of impoverishing his perspective on human beings . The sign of truly distinguished the­ orists, however, is that they sense the limitations of even their most systematic work . They know where it will be vulnerable , and they move, consciously or unconsciously, to shore it up. This shoring

1 76

Homa n s a n d the In dividualist Dilemma

up, however, can be done onl y i n an ad hoc way; to do anything else would be to undermine his theory's systematic integrity . It is clear, indeed , that Homans is acutely aware of the limiting character of exchange . Contradictions and residual categories abound. In his very first general proposition about exchange, for example, h e suggests that the subjective capacity for discrimination is vital for calculating profit. "The more similar the present stimulus situation is to the past one," he writes in regard to his prototypical actor, " the more likely he is to emit the activity, or some similar ac t i vity now " (p. 5 3). What Homans is saying here is that actors must compare the external stimuli they are currently receiving with their experiences of stimuli in the past . But if th is is true, the analogy between men and pigeons is lost. In fact, Homans goes on to suggest that "whatever establishes the similarities and dif­ ferences in question-whatever makes men discriminate between stimuli-may be exceedingly complicated. It is far more complicated for men than it is for pigeons " (p . 5 3). It is so compl icated precisely because the abi lity to discriminate depends entirely upon the sub­ jective capacity to recollect the past-upon the "memory " which Homans is so intent on leaving out. " v\'ith a man the discrimination may he the result not only of his every da y experience hut also of his formal education , his reading, and the verbal arguments he may have listened to. They may be u nconscious or the result of conscious reasoning" (p. 5 3 ) . Since the past is carried by sentiments, the tight link between a person's sentiments and his contemporary activities has been lost. It is, moreover, much more difficult to predict-objective ly-the behavior of a person if we must compare the stimulus he is now receiving and that which long preceded it. We would have to know whether the actor himself feels that a similiarity exists. Memories and sentiments differ from person to person. We are pushed back from a theory of observable realities to an interpretive theory about states of mind . Discrimination also implies standards . We compare things to one another by comparing both to a more general standard of what such types of things should be. O n ce again , this leads us back to the past, a fact which Homans seems to acknowledge when he writes that it is through "processes of past learning" that patterns of contemporary stimuli h ave the effect they do (p. 74). Are such ,

Hom a ns and the Individualist Dilem ma

1 77

learned standards of discrim ination, however, in any way different from Parsons' norms? Has not H omans' reference to discrimination led him impl icitly to recognize-to note in an ad hoc way-the reality of nonrational action and of extra-individual constraints on experience? These reservations about a purely instrumental perspective on action also surface in the contradictory definitions Homans offers for "value . " Value is absolutely vital to any theory of exchange: it is the qualitative element which, with the quantitative, determines reward . Homans ' second general proposition about exchange has two parts. The first is quantitative, referring simply to number: "The more often within a given period of time a man's activity rewards the activity of another, the more often the other will emit the activity" (p. 54). The second is qualitative, focusing on value: "The more valuable to a man a unit of the activity another gives him, the more often he will emit activity rewarded by the activity of the other" (p. 5 5 ) . But we can also find in Homans' work a very different approach to value. ' ' The value of the unit [an actor] receives, " he writes, "is the degree of reinforcement or punishment he gets from that unit" (p. 40). Why is this different? Whereas in the former proposition , value is described as an independent me­ diator of stimuli , in the latter it is seen as determined by the stimuli. In the latter case it is the behavior of the actor which tells the value of the stimu l i , in the former, the i ndependent assessment of value predicts what the behavior of that actor w i l l be, i.e., whether the stimuli will reinforce or pun i sh him . Why is Homans so ambiguous about this cen tral concept? We have seen that he is perfectly capable of developing an objectivist definition of value, namely , that value is determined by the recip­ ient's previous supply of the object. Since this definition succeeds in turning quality into quantity , why would Homans want to avoid placing value in an independent position? Because, I believe , he has misgivings about the actor's ability objectively to calculate the meaning of "previous supply . " We have seen how he feels compelled to acknowledge the role of discrimination , and how he links dis­ crimination to the role of memories about past rewards. The problem , then , is that if value is determined by past supply, then it is surely dependen t upon discrimination . To allow value to be

178

Hom a ns a n d the In dividualist Dilemma

an independent mediator of stimuli is, therefore, to tie exchange to internal , even irrational things. Value would become something imputed to stimuli by (stored up reservoirs of) sentiment and sensibility. Far better to reduce value to an epiphenomenon of stimulus, forcing the observer to examine the specific course of observable action if value is to be ascertained . Is this a case of the tail wagging the dog? I will argue that it is. My discussion of Homans' problems with action has been guided by my conviction that presuppositions establish a "theoretical logic" which sharply limits the possibil ities for empirical descriptions of the .. real world." Homans clearly wants very much to talk about discrimination and accumulated memory , but his commitment to instrumental presupposition s about action makes it extremely dif­ ficult for him to do so. Certain references can be smuggled i n by the back door, but if his theory is to remain recognizably an " exchange theory" any analysis which links discrimination to states of mind, and value to both , would have to remain occasional and ad hoc. Homans must direct!}' contradict such analysis in his sys­ tematic work . In this particular sense one can say that theoretical logic meets empirical reality head o n . " Reality," I believe , is multidimensional: there are norms and interests, individual negotiation and collective force. A theorist may ignore significant parts of this complex reality , but he can not make them go away, and one indication of an important theorist is that he senses they are still there. Thinking both from "inside" and from "outside" his conceptual framework , he makes efforts to find these neglected elements some place in the theoretical whole . No empirical reality , of course , is ever sensed "in itself. " I f a theorist is aware of other variables it is because he has been exposed to-and at some earlier point may even have adopted-other presuppositions. I have described just this sort of problem in my earlier discussions. Parsons' idealist tendency led him to introduce one-sided normative reductions that threatened to negate the multidimensional model he strived so hard to produce. Rex, for his part , faced what I called the conflict dilemma. His commitment to rationalism and collective order forced him to choose between coercion and residual category. To avoid both he would have had to step outside his rationalist

Hom a ns a n d the Individualist Dilem nw

1 79

framework and to ackno\',.· ledge that collective force, and conflict and order, could be built upon normative foundations. Thus, even while Rex chose coercion, he insinuated normative ideas about supra-class consensus into his theory of the postwar capital/labor truce. To continue theorizin g about supra-class values , however, would have meant approaching order from assumptions about action very different than the instrumentalist ones he held . It is precisely this possibility that creates the dilemma for theory of the conflict type. I want to retu rn now to my critique of Homans' exchange theory , moving from my analysis of action to a discussion of his treatment of order. I nstrumental rational ity is central to exchange theory , as it is to conflict theory . What distingu ishes exchange from conflict theory (on the presuppositional level) is its forcefully individual istic position on the problem of order . Homans claims that " elementary behav­ ior" is behavior rewarded by another concrete , living, breathing person. While ack nowledging the existence of " silent third parties," he will not directly write about them . He theorizes only about dyadic relations. H e is not just tryin g to illuminate a level of empirical analysis but insisting on a fundamental theoretical-more precisely presuppositional-position . � H omans insists that collective order , the level of in stitutions in empirical terms , derives from " subinstitutional" behavior. Collective patterns result from indi­ vidual, face-to-face i nteraction . This i ndi vidual interaction i s e x ­ change. But Homans faces a problem . It is the problem of order. Since he rejects the collectivist position , is he not tied to the infinite complexity of individual negotiation? Infinite complexity is simply another way of talking about randomness. Of course , Homans seems to accept randomness ; what other way to explain his discussion of individual action as guided only by calcu lations about the profit­ ability of exchange? But he also wants to relate these actions to supra-individual order, the existence of which he never denies. As a result, Homans faces what I wi11 call the "individualist dilemma. " T o maintain an approach to order that i s individualistic in a dear, ' For the distinction between empirical level of analysis and presuppositional

position,

see

discussion i n

the

prec eding le cture.

1 80

Ho m a n.s and the Individuali.st Dilemma

consistent, and honest way, a theorist must introduce into his construction a level of openness to contingency that makes his explanation of order approximate randomness and unpredictability. But whatever the theorist' s formal commitment, and whether or not this contingency is seen eventually to lead to collective order, few individualistic theorists are , in the end, fully satisfied with such randomness. Their dissatisfaction may derive from " the pressure of reality" or from the pressure of competing, more collectivist social theories. After all , even the most individualistic theorist is a sociologist, not a psychologist or an existentialist philosopher. But whatever its sources , this dissatisfaction pushes individualist theorists toward more collective ideas, for despite their formal commitments they try, in one way or another, to embrace some aspect of supra­ individual order. The individualist dilemma is a choice between randomness and residual category . It is created because this "theorist with second thoughts" will not-indeed , cannot-give up on his formal claims to a thoroughgoing individualism . For this reason, the "collectivist moment" he introduces must be hidden inside residual categories . Because it cannot be part of the systematic, forthright argument of the theory itself, this collectiv ist reference will be i n determinate and vague. For this problem to be resolved the dilemma itself would have to be transcended . This could come about only if the formal adherence to individualism were abandoned, for only then could the sui generis autonomy of social order be stated dearly rather than camouflaged in ambiguity . The contingent and indi­ vidualistic element of social order could then be inserted into a collectivist theory as a significant level of empirical analysis rather than as a theoretical presupposition as such . In principle there are two paths by which Homans could introduce residual categories asserting collective order. He could describe this supra-individual force in a rationalist form , pointing to the kinds of material controls over individual behavior that preoccupy conflict theorists like Rex . Since Homans shares Rex's perspective on action, this strategy would seem to make perfect sense. It is significant, then, that Homans does not avail himself of this op­ portunity. Though he is caught within the individualist dilemma, we can see no evidence of his resort to residual categories in a

Ho m a ns a n d the In dir.'idualist Dilemm a

181

rationalistic form. Why not? Because, I believe, Homans is so committed to indi vidualism not simply in a presuppositional but in an ideological sense. Remember this self-confessed Yankee insisting that the "fruits of conscience [are] as dearly won as a taste for olives"? On some levels Homans must have realized that any move­ ment to material collectivism involves coercion , and he is too committed to individual liberty to allow this to happen. But there is another side to this ideological resistance . Homans' liberalism is of the conservative, laissez-faire kind. To move toward collectivism within an instrumental mode would acknowledge material con­ straints on the proto-economic actor. It would allow that a " natural identity of interests" might not exist, and that, faced with a break­ down in social order, the solution lay in the reform of political­ economic institutions. Conservative laissez-faire would then give way to progressive reformism, even to the kind of socialism and M arxism which inspired Rex. Homans' ideological-cum-presuppositional refusal to acknowledge material constraints , however, has debilitating empirical conse­ quences, even if it allows him to avoid the problems that Rex's work suggests. Homans maintains, for example, that we must "as­ sume, by whatever process of trial and error you please , [ that] the two [partners to an exchange] have struck a bargain as to the kind of service each will provide , and that for the time being neither will provide another kind" (p . 54). But is the kind of service different actors provide a matter actual ly decided by individual trial and error? Is it entirely the result of bargains decided by the contin­ gencies of the immediate situation? Surely not . Kind of service refers to the allocation of facilities, and Rex and Parsons both have shown how such allocation is structured by collective demands. For Parsons it is a matter of role definitiom and the exigencies created by scarce resources. For Rex it is determined by the power dif­ ferential of dom inant groups, which is itself related to supra­ individual factors like technological conditions and party organi­ zation . Homans, by contrast, insists that the power of bargaining parties is basically equivalent . He acknowledges the possibility that monopoly can affect supply and demand, but he i nsists that .. either party may break off the exchange " at any time (p. 67). Punishing, disadvantageous exchange , he believes, will continue "only if for

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Romans and the Individualist Dilemma

some reason neither of the two men can avoid hostilities, or if the other aspects of exchange are rew ar ding in themselves and the chances of successive victories falling to one side or the other are about equal (p . 57). To me this seems like an outlandish distortion of empirical reality . If ba r gain i ng power is unequal, if one side has a monopoly on goods w hich the other side absolutely needs, then the weaker party cannot simply break off the exchange when it becomes punishing or unrewarding. To suggest that it is simply equality that ensures continuing punishment is bizarre. Surely we should also look to i n equ al i ty and the inabilit y to bargain successfully with others . It should not be surprising, then, that Homans insists, in the end, tha t ex cha n ge takes place in what economists ca ll a perfect market. "The sort of market we are dealing with in this book," he writes, " holds no absolute monop olists-for our people are always free not to enter into excha n ge at all . " Neither, he adds, "does it offer a man many alternative sources of reward." Because of this, he reasons, "exchan ges between two pe rs on s tend to con­ tinue" (p. 78). We are back to the pre-Marxist ideology of Locke and Adam Smith, to the insistence that there is an inherent, n atural i d e nti ty of interests between individuals which makes collective control unnecessar y . Homans' exchange t h eo ry is utopian in just the kind of conservative way developed by laissez-faire . U nequal facilities, the oppression and exploitation of others, do not exist. Homans' empirical assumptions reinforce h is ideological p osit io n Together, they allow him to ignore an entire complex of problems en gendered by the individualist-rationalist position. Yet while Homans has avoided, for good reasons and bad, the problems of rationalistic conflict theory , he has avoided facing the problem of collective order o n l y in one of its forms , not collective order as such . The problem of order still hangs over his head like the proverbial sword of Damocles. For Locke, the inventor of classical economic theory , the natural i dentity of interest could be maintained by m ak ing certain empirical assumptions about the state of nature, namely that men are naturally friendly and potentially Ekeh, Social Excha nge Theory: The Tuoo Traditio>lS (Cambridge, \fa ss . : Harvard U n iversit y Press, 1 9i4). ' Blau, Excha nge and Pou•rr in Soc i a l 8 Blau,

Homa n s a n d the Individu a l ist Dilem ma

1 93

party. This indirect third party, h o w e v er seems no different than the sol i dary group which Homans pointed to in his first pri n ciple of d istributive j u st ice To make exchange normat i ve by ma k ing it i ndi r ect is equally ad hoc . It violates the prin c i pl e of parsimony-let a l on e the fundamental criterion of consistency­ to suggest that issues like s olida ri ty and !'.}'Stem i n teg rat i o n should be forced to fit into the co n s tricti n g a nd theo retic a l ly discordant language of social exchange . Cha r l es Kadushin's later w rit i n g on indirect exc h a n ge suffers from the same surplus co mple x i ty as does William Goode's attempt to make excha nge theory the basis for his s y stema t i c explanation of the distribution of prest i ge in social l ife . 1 1 Goode "corrects" e x ch a ng e theory by reminding his readers that the exchange of symbolic resources-a subset of the "rewards" mentioned in Homans' and Parsons' work-must be regulated by what Durkheim called the noncontractual elements of contract , and t hat for this reason any analysis of prest i ge must deal with cultural bases which a re outside of exchange i tse l f. Buy why start from a theory of the primordiality of ex c hange in the first p l ace ? Why not state from the o ut s e t that while exchange is an ana l y t i cal dimension of action it cannot come close to expl a i n i n g action by i t self? The answer, perhaps, is that to do so would be to step outside the theory of ex cha n ge as a unique tradition . Rationalistic and individualistic a ssu mp ti o n s permeate the em­ pirical study of !'.ocial life; they are not lim ited to analyses which formally annou n c e themselves as part of the "theory of exchange." Studies o f co l lecti v e behavior a s resource mobilization often em­ phasize rat ional choice, as do discussions of revolution. Political sociology em ploy s such assum ptions ro u t i n e l y Man y theories of ra c e and ethnic r e la tio n s depend on them . Explanations of inter­ natio nal relations use proto-exchange theories to model the be­ havior of natio n s family sociologists use them to explain the de­ velopment of emotional path o l og ies Conflict theories rely upon exchange to ex p la i n the actions of i n d i v i dual parts of complex "silent" t hird

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1 1 Charles Kadu�h i n , "Cast Thy Bread L pon the W a te r s for Thou Sh a l t Find It After M a ny Days: Notes on Mot i \·at ion in Network Behavior" (un p ubli shed paper, 1978), W il l ia m Goode, TM Celeb ration of Hnos: Prestige as a Socwl Control SJslem (Berkeley and Los A n geles: University of California Press, 1 979).

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Homans a n d the Individualist Dilem m a

systems. Marxists use exchan ge t o explain t h e logic o f alienated individuals and groups in ca pitalist society . 1 2 Though few o f th e s e efforts push their theoretical assumptions in a systematic way, the l i m i t s of their em pi r i ca l explanations follow the fault lines we have discovered in the more explicit and gen­ eralized l o gi c of Homans' work. Th is, after a l l , is the r at i on a l e for pursuing gen e ra l th e or y. I t is a m i croc os m of sociology . By con­ sidering ge ne r a l theoretical problems we are engaged in an abstract and concentrated consideration of sociology itself.

1 2 ohn Elster formalizes th is tendency in the ''ra t ion a l choice Marxism" he has J recently offered in Marx's name: "Marxism, Functionalism , a nd Game Theory ," Thmry a n d Soci,ty ( 1 982), 1 1 :453-482.

L E C T U R E T \V E L V E

SY M B O L I C I N T E RA C T I O N I S M

( 1 ): PRAGMAT ISM AN D THE L EGACY O F G E O R G E HERBERT MEAD

T

HE

E X C H A J'\ G E and conflict challen ges to functionalist emerged on the postwar scene at specific times . They were formulated in the late 1 9 5 0s and early 1 960s.

hegemon y

They appeared as new theories, th ough of course they had classical roots. The case is much different for the next theoretical challenge we will co ns id er the tradition which has come to be called symbolic interactionism . I t has been around in one form or an o t h e r for most of this century, and its intellectual origins go even further back. Even if we limit ourselves to i ts modern for m , which emerged in the writings of H e rb e r t Blumer, we must go back to the 1 940s. Modern interaction i sm , th en , appeared long before Parsons' intel­ lectual dominance be gan to wane. Indeed, it emerged a t about the same time as Parsons' own functionalist theory . Yet in the im mediate postwar period it was Parsons, not Blumer, who assumed a position of theoretical leadership. To understand why you might recall some of my earlier discussion of the h istory of sociology . I note d i n an earlier lecture that the sociology departments at Harvard and Columbia, and Parsons' functionalist sociology in particular, came into prominance by "defeating" the more prag­ matic, individualistic, and empirical sociology of the Chicago school. The latte r was very much influenced by Pragmatism, the precursor of symbolic i nteractionism . The early phases of this tradition, how,

1 96

Pragmatism and George Herbert A'lead

ever, were not recognized as constituting a major theoretical school ; they were, rather , viewed as significant approaches to sociological research. In that early period, German and French sociologists made Europe the center of theoretical work . Only later, in the interwar period when these great European traditions began to disintegrate, did some of the most important theoretical contri­ butions to interactionism by Mead appear, as did the critical re­ formulations by Blumer. These works certainly were known and discussed in the post-World War II period, but the " migration of sociological theory to America " was associated not with the emer­ gence of a theoretically m ore sophisticated interactionism but with Parsons' functionalist theorizing. Only i n the process of challenging Parsons' dominance did interactionism come to be regarded as a major theoretical tradition . I t was in the 1 960s that Blumer's theoretical essays were first brought together, and it was in this decade that younger theorists seriously took up Blumer' s challenge to develop "interactionist" approaches in various empirical sub­ fields . I will discuss this contemporary , post-Parsonian challenge in my next lecture . Today I will try to explain the historical background from which it emerged . With symbolic interactionism we encounter the same kind of individualistic response to functionalism that we found in Homans' exchange theory . We will see , in fact , that it has much the same ideological background, since it is inspired by the belief, or at least hope , that society can be organized a round a natural identity of interests. The roots of exchange theory can be traced to the individualism of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century contract the­ ory and to the classical political economy of the nineteenth century. The individualism of symbolic interactionism, however, is linked to very di fferent intellectual traditions . These traditions are deeply rooted in American history. Indeed, interactionism is the only theoretical challenge to Parsons that rests entirely within the Amer­ ican tradition . It is the only theoretical tradition in Western so­ ciology that is almost entirely " American" in its outlook . If we are to understand the possibilities and limits of in teractionist theory we would do well , therefore, to know something about the intel­ lectual history of America itself.

Pragm atism a n d Geo rge He rbert Afead

197

While all societies have manifest tensions between the freedom they allow to individuals and the obligations they demand of their communities, this tension has been more striking in America than anywhere else. Perhaps this is because from its beginning, almost 400 years ago, America has been as much an area of the imagination as a geographical entity. It has been the place where "everything is possible," where there are supposed to be no limits to achieve­ ment. It has been the land of opportunity , invention , and liberty . Perhaps because of this faith America has been the only Western country without any real socialist tradition . There has simply not been enough communalism for that . Left and right in American history have never embraced collective ideologies; they have always presented themselves as variations on individualistic thought. This emphasis on the individual is, in my view , the source of the best and the worst in American history. It is easy , I'm sure, for all of you to see the good parts. It is natural for those of us living in American society to see freedom positively , that is, as the elimination of constraint. But individualism has also been an ide­ ology in American society. It has often hidden the effects of unfair institutional barriers. It has often inspired brutal competition and restless dissatisfaction . Homans' social theory neatly embodies these contradictory qualities. Though he expresses a personal concern with individual conscience and a commitment to the ideal of free­ dom, he portrays people as individual "capitalists" with no irrational feelings, consciences, or ties to their pasts. He also ignores, or at least cannot explain, the collective, social barriers to individual rewards. When he is forced to recognize the background charac­ teristics of individuals which affect the rewards they receive, he calls them investments rather than limitations ! Homans exemplifies the rationalistic individualism o f the Amer­ ican marketplace . But American i ndividualism is rooted in non­ economic spheres as well. There is, after all, a presuppositional alternative to such rationalistic individualism. This is individualism of a nonrational , normative, subjective sort. Moral individualism has also been a major force in American h istory, and in this lecture I will be more concerned with this strain than with its economic counterpart. The moral individualism of American society comes, above all, from the religious heritage of Puritanism and evangelical Protes-

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Pragmatism a n d George Herbert Afead

tantism . It is directed not toward the desire for material acquisition but to questions of meaning and evaluation , relying on the capacity that Homans called discrimination. The Puritans closely scrutinized their internal motives ; they looked for salvation to the conditions of their souls not, in the first instance, to their obj ective environ­ ments. But this introspective religion, especially as it became more evangelical in the nineteenth century, was extremely individualistic. People were conceived as having a direct relationship with God which was unmediated by formal rules and institutional hierarchies. It was for this reason that American evangelical Protestantism posed such a severe challenge to institutional religious communities . I n the early and middle nineteenth century, this religious tradition achieved a secular form in the first major American social theory­ the "Transcendentalism " of New England intellectuals like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry Thoreau . The link between these secular theorists and Puritanism is clear. The Transcendentalists were spiritually, not materially directed; they were concerned with the salvation of men's souls. They were also highly individualistic, picturing man as isolated from his social environment and advo­ cating the liberation of actors from social constraint. Emphasizing individual will over against social determinism, they proposed to reinvigorate American society by putting individuals back i nto the "natural" state. This natural state would be good for the soul . It would demand discipline, introspection , and hard work if the in­ dividual were to survive. This ethic was a k i nd of secularized Puritan response to a rapidly changing society . Remember, T horeau escaped to Walden Pond from the bustl ing society of mercantile greater Boston. I want to emphasize, however, that the attitudes these religious and secular individualists took toward community were not entirely of a piece. They did not, for example , give up on the hope that a cohesive social order could be constructed. Religious individualists lived with the fervent hope that religious organizations and even the American nation could be reconstructed as a community of voluntary believers. If religious faith were sufficient there could be a "self-controlling" community which wou ld do away with the need for overbearing institutions. Such a community, it was believed, would still provide powerful social control , but this control would

Pragma tism a n d George Herbert i\Jead

1 99

be of an informal type. In the secular thought of the first half of the nineteenth centu ry, Transcendentalists expressed a similar belief that social relations and ethics would grow out of the intuition, or conscience , which all people possess and wh ich allowed them to know the good . Yet both these groups approached community and society in a rather ad hoc and residual way. Collectivities larger than the in­ dividual were usually viewed w ith alar m ; laws, values, religions, states, and custom s were usually seen as reflecting the interests of reaction and conservatism . America , after all , was a revolutionary country . It should not be surprisi n g that the first truly "organic , " institutionally orien ted social thou g h t i n America w a s written by Southern racist intellectuals in the two decades before the Civil

War, in good part a s an apologia for the coercive institution of slavery. By contras t , the liberal a n d radical movements of the early nineteenth century , for example , J ac kson ian democracy and Abo­ litionism , were aggressi vely i n dividualisti c . Among m ajor Western societies of t h is time , the United States was the only nation where radicialism n ever assu med a conspicuously collectivist for m . T h i s tension between individualism a n d a latent , residual com­

of

munalism continued in the latter half

the n ineteen t h century.

In most respects i n d i vidualism conti nued to be the dominant strea m . Economic life prov ides t h e best exam p l e . This w a s the e r a o f t h e " robber barons," w h o created the first grea t , a n d bruta l , p h a s e of industrial capita l ism . The economic opport u n ity this transformation

implied was reflected in deeply held popular beliefs. In the H oratio A lgier myth Americans enshrined the story of rags to riches com­ mercial success . In the myth of the "yeo m a n farmer, " which played such an important part in American

e x pan s

i on , a vision o f hard

work as yielding u n l i m i ted opport u n i ty stimulated expansion i n the agricultural

West .

The great social theorist for post-Civil War

A mericans was the Engl i sh Utilitarian H erbert Spencer , who pro­ posed the individualisti c notion of the " s u rvivial of the fittest . " Spencer's Social Darwinism proclaimed the benefits o f the dog-eat­

dog i ndividualism espoused by the newly e merging capitalists, while conveniently overlooking the barriers

to opportunity capitalism

establ ished and its costs for human com m u nity .

By the end of the nineteenth century, howe,•er, the problems with such individualistic social theory a n d self-help ideologies be-

200

Pragma tism a n d Geo rge Herbert Mead

came increasingly apparent. An American reaction developed which paralleled the anti-individualistic movement which was fuelling the birth of sociology in Europe. Th e notion of unlimited opportunity for individual action , many Americans began to feel, could not explai n the disorder and instability which began to overtake in­ dustrializing America. The rugged individual , it seemed, was also the rapa c ious capitalist, who in transforming and industrializing society initiated class war and pitted group against group . In the countryside, the yeoman farmer discovered he could not control the very markets through which his indi viduality was supposed to be expressed. America was beset by depression, urbanization , and often quite des p erate rural blight. The flood of European immi­ grants entering the country only increased sensitivity to group forces as against individual ones. 'W h ile the intellectual response to this crisis sometimes took on a collectivist hue, more frequently it emerge d as a new form of critica l , socially sensitive individualism . Rather than conceptualizing the collective causes of this crisis, American intellectuals were inc l ined to respond to the constriction of individual opportunity which was its result. Reacting against the narrowing of freedom , they demanded more freedom in turn . They referred, i n oth e r words, to the constriction of freedom a s itself the cause of their predicament. They attacked the " formalism " of American thought and institutions. They found formalism and rigidity in corporate economic consolidation , in the centralization of wealth and power, and in the Victorian conventions of America 's European-oriented upper classes. They also found it in the increasingly hierarchical character of American society which they associated with the end of the American frontier. All of these social reactions were echoed for them in the world of thought. American intellectuals saw European intellectual life as riddled by formalism and fatalism. I n Kant there was too much apriorism , i n Hegel t oo much formal and deductive metaphysics. The grand systems of Spencer were c ri t ici zed as divorced from the experience of the real world. All these systems seemed mechanistic . They made formal what was, after all , the product of human e xpe rience . It was wrong, these American intellectuals believed, to treat markets, laws, and insti­ tutions as if they were automatic self-regulating mechanisms which

Pragmatism and George Herbert Mead

201

were not affected by concrete human experience. What was needed, then , was a turn from formal ism to experience . It was out of this social climate, and these intellectual criticisms, that the uniquely American philosophy of Pragmatism arose . Prag­ matism can be viewed both as a general intellectual movement in late nineteenth-century America and as a technical philosophical and theoretical system which informed the first phase of "inter­ actionist" sociological theory . I will begin b y taking the first route and talk about Pragmatism as a general orien tation . Pragmatism challenged the formalism of American society by emphasizing protean experience . Against H egel it insisted that experience was the source of grov.·th ; against Kant it insisted that experience was the source of people's knowledge of the good . I t may seem a bit ironic-given the an xiety about disorder which had been created by individuali sm-but this emphasis on experience gave i ndividualism a new birth. It helped create a new, more optimistic, reforming kind of liberalism , a brash and crusading renaissance of faith in the richness and creativity of individual action in the world. It promoted the notion that a new social order could be created by force of wil l . Abstractions and traditions about right and wrong were not considered to be relevant to such creation , nor were institutional barriers which might appear to resist it. Ethics, laws, and habits would be upheld only if they "fit" expe­ rience. Institutions do not con t i n u e by themselves; they must be felt to be right by the individual' s life in the world. Yet to portray Pragm atism as completely individual istic would be wrong. I t responded to the felt breakdown of order and to the anger about excessive individualism in a fam iliarly American way. It demanded that social order b e reconstructed as a voluntary community . This pragmatic approach to community was called a theory of " social control . " l t held that through interactions with others people would naturally want to adhere to social obligations, obligations which themselves would arise through this same process of interaction. People are considered to be naturally of good will, and institutions constructed through the interaction of such good­ willed actors were viewed as sufficient to keep them in line. If a society does move to conflict and disequilibrium , this negative movement will inevitably be counter acted by efforts at re-equili-

202

Pragma tism a n d Geo rge Herbert Mead

bration. Because the consequences of disequilibrium will be directly experienced, people will naturally wish to initiate re for m . This process of change is not formal or ideological . R a t h er , it occurs pragmatically, th ro ugh trial and error. Here is the American version of the "natural identity of interests" which u n de rl a y Europe's laissez-faire economic theory. This optimistic prag m a tism affected every area of American in­ tellectual life . Veblen , Commons, and Ely created a di scipli n e called " institutiona l economics" which countered the formalistic , classical v a rie ty They argued that if the i nst i tut io n a l and so c i a l context of e co no m i c processes were c h an ged the economy would be different . This new economic context would emerge from experience and it would fit the co m m o n needs of individuals. It would not result from new formal systems, either from the laws of economics or the axioms of socialist ideology In pol i t i cal philosophy , theorists like Royce and Croly and more empirical thinkers like Wilson and Ford c o nce p t ual i zed politics as closely related to experience and reform . They talked a b ou t relating formal government to subjective value; and in place of rigid contract theories, notions of abstract ri g hts and mechanistic legal formulations, they substituted fluid, action-oriented theories. I n history , the generation of "progressive historians, " like Turner, Beard, and Parrington , moved away from scie n ti fi c and deductive schemes to studying the actual experience of social groups and the open-ended structure of history . In law, there arose a legal realism quite antithetical to the formal legal phi loso phi es of the continent, an appproach exemplified by O liver Wendell Holmes' oft-quoted remark, made in 1 88 1 , that "the life of the law has not been logic but experience ." Finally , there were the philosophers of pragm a ti sm themselves, people like Peirce, James, Dewey, and Mead, who sought to give to this vast intellectual movement a more p re c i se a n a l y tic form . As a general outlook, then , pragmatism was dynam i c , naturalistic, anti-formal, and voluntaristic. It was linked to s oc i a l reform and activism . It had a t h e ory of co m mu n i ty though this was more a vision of results than an understanding of cause: the residue of right-thinking individual experience and expression. I f you sense in this Prag m a ti c movement an unresolved tension between col­ lectivist desire and individualist commitment, you would be right. .

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Pragma tism a nd George Her bert Alea d

We

can s ee t h i s t e n s i o n in its tech nical philosophy a s wel l , a n d i n

the sociological th eo ry i t As

the

203

a

eventually

thrusts of this ge n e ra l

tional

informe d .

techn ical philosophy P r a gm atis m

terms,

intellectual

reflected

and

perfected

movement. I n presupposi­

it tended toward t h e normative and individualistic.

value; they w a n t to i nfus e p u rpos e into pursue value and purpose i n the course of th ei r experience. They adapt to the world , but in adapting they also interpret and evaluate i t . P ractice is more important than theory, ex peri m e n t more significant t h a n abstraction , pr oc e ss more

Actors are in search of

"

"

their situation s . They

important than for m . Darwinism h ad a powerful i mpact : the em­ phasis on growth and adaptation t hro u g h experience was crucial

emphasized that structures depend on experience and that for this reason there is no preordained shape to the structures of life . I n telligence , for D a n'\' i n , was prob­ for the Pragmatists . Darwin had

lem-solvin g .

The most famous maxims of Pragmatic ph ilosophy

sound p erfec t ly

Darwinian-"truth

is sy nonymous with the sol u tion

the probl e m and "process w i l l determine form . " Yet, Pra gm a ti c phi losophy did not emirely eschew community and constraint , any more than did the o ther traditions of American individual ism I m e n t i oned earlier or, indeed, the P ragmatic move­ ment as a whole. If we look closely at Pragmatic philosophy we can see withi n it a critical tension. We find that some Pra g mat i s t s were more w i l l i n g and able to recognize the extra- i n d i v idua l , social sources of control than others . 1 I t i s from J ames a n d Dewey t h a t t h e epi grammat ic individualism of pragmatic p h i l osophy emerges . J ames developed a personalized theory of m e a n i n g which claimed that a concept m eans the expe­ rience to which it leads. The mandate of the pra gm a ti c method is, from this perspective, to test all abstract conceptual beliefs against practical individual experience. As J a m e s put it, one must "deter­ mine the m ean i ng of all differences of opinion by makin g the discussion hinge as soon as possible upon some p ractical issue. "2

of

"

1 See, for an elaboration of this point, the far-reaching work. by J. David Lewis and Ri c h a rd L. Sm ith, 1imrrican Sociology and Pragmatism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1 980). 2 William James, Essay.s on Radical Empiri cism and a Plura/islic Uniarne social group or from the generalized sta ndpoint of the s oc i a l group as a whole to which he be l o n g s (p. ,

,"

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202) . The c o ll e c t i v e or soci al i zi n g impact o f this g e n e r a l i zed other is critically e l a b ora te d in \1 ead s theory of the ga m e , a no t ion that makes a profound contribution t o i n tegrating empirical contingency and co l l ec t i v e order. \'\'hen c h il d re n are very y o u ng �1 ead believes , their sense of ot h e r individuals has not yet become ge ne ra l i zed ; as a res u l t children engage in play rat h e r than in games . They take the role of o ther children, moving from one kind of b e h a v io r to a n ot her in a discrete , sequential way . At this early point in t h e i r development, t h e n , children can only put them s elve s in place of the o t h er With funher development , however, ch ild re n can actually incorporate into themselves an abstract u n de rstan di n g of the r o l e s which significant others as s u m e By such i n co rp or a t i on there is ,

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208

Pragmatism and

George

Herbert Mead

constituted the "rules" of th e game, for there is a " ge n eral i zed other" which can now i nv i s i b ly regulate the behavior of in d i vi d ua l s in the in t e r e st of all . Only with ru l es are real games po s si ble , for only with the rules prov ided by a ge n e ra l i zed other can i ndivi­ dualized i n te re s t s and go a l s be pu r s u ed in a soc i a l way . When an older, game-playing child g e st u res , Mead in s i st s , he is c e rtai n l y gestu ring for himself, but he is also ge st u ri ng for others. Because this internalized generalization affects his pe rsona l i de nt ity and even his very perceptions, he automatically ta k es into account the posi t io n s and obli ga t i on s of his fellow play e rs . This is how Mead appl ies h i s abstraction to the game which has been called America's pastime. I refer, of course , to baseball. T h e baseba l l pl a y e r who makes a brilliant play is m a k i n g the play called for by t h e nine to which he belongs. He is pla y in g for his side. A man may , of course, p l ay the ga l l e ry , be more in te re s ted in making a brilliant pl ay than in helping his te a m to win, just as a surgeon may carry out a brilliant operation and sacrifice the patient. But under normal co n d i t i on s , the con tribution of the individual gets its expression in the social processes that a re involved in the act, so that thR attachment of the values to the self does not involt'e egoism or selfishness. (p. 2 3 9 , ital i c s mine) A ballplayer, in other words, i s certainly p lay i n g for himself. He has his own p o s it i on , and it is h e and he alone who must field a ball hit to his a re a of the pa rk . I f he fails it will be his error, and if he makes a b ri l l i a nt play it will be his gain. Yet this individually interested action is thoroughly defined by t h e social situation of the act. How a man plays his po si t i on is d eci ded by the i n t e re sts and l ocati o n s of the other ei gh t pl ay e rs ; every act of egoi s m is simultaneously a social loss or gain. He is only a baseball pl ay er because he is a member of a team .

Th e taking of all of those o rgani zed sets of attitudes gives him . . . the self he is aware of. He can throw t he ball to some other members bec a us e of the d e ma n d made upon him from other members of the team . That is the self that im­ mediately ex ists for him in his consciousness. He h a s their attit u de s , knows what t h e y want and what the consequences

Pmgrna tism a nd Geo rge Herbe rt A-lead

209

of any act of h is will be, and he has assumed responsibility for the situation . (p. 2 30) The game for Mead is an analogy, a microcosm , of all social systems and groups . His understanding of gesturing in games allows him to maintain that individual gestures a re s o c i al institutions. A c cor di n g to conflict t he ory , institutions are structured and objective o rd ers. Mead has shown , by contrast, that collective order corresponds to the generalized experience of its members. "An institution," he s u g ges t s , "is, after all , nothing but an organization of attitudes which we all carry in us" (p. 2 3 9) . Yet the con t i n gent and individualizing aspect of action has not yet been expressed. Mead is i n t e r e sted in gestures not simply because they show h ow t h e social is speci fied by i n d i vi d u a l situations. He uses them also to show how the social is changed . The gesture involves an e lement of individuality and freedom. Why? Because it involves the passa ge of time . For Mead, temporality is the essence of contingency . It is the " te m p o r a ry inhibition of action ," in his view, that allows thinking. I n the course of carrying out an action, the individual is presented in his consciousness with "different

alternative ways of completing [what) he has already in itiated" (p. 1 69). Because gestures occur in time, they involve the consideration of various courses of action . For this reason , every new gesture has an emergent property that distinguishes it from those preceding. That which takes place in present organic behavior is always in some sense an emergent from the past and n ever could have been precisely predicted in advance-never could have been predicted on the basis of a knowledge, however complete , of the past, and of the conditions in the past which are relevant to its emer gence. (p . 1 77) As pan of his effort to concep tualize the properties which are emergent from action , M ead differentiates the " I " of an actor from his " me. " The " I " is the nove l element, the "me" the social element corresponding to the g e n era l i z e d other. M ead calls the " I" and the "me" "two distinguishable phases" of the same act. In de scr i bi n g the ge n e s is and constitution of acts, he suggests an alternation of contingent and de t erm i ne d phases . The "atti tude," in Mead's terms,

210

Pragmatism and George He rbert AJea d

constitutes the first part of the response to another' s gesture, and

he insists that one's "attitude" is socially determined by the me , nature of the internalized s y mbolic order. The meaning you give to my gesture is immediately given , in a t h or oug hl y unconscious way . Yet, Mead cautions, this does not constitute your total " re­ sponse" to my gesture . Within the context of your responsive act­ unconsciously, preconsciously , or consciousl y -you perform various rehearsals, feeling and seeing imagery of various k i n d s , exploring the ramification of this or that respon se . Only after such rehearsals do you co m p let e your r e spon se Subsequently , you will evaluate the relation between the meaning you have given to the other's gesture and the effect of your response on the immediate and

by the

.

generalized others involved . In my lectures on exchange theory,

I

defined the individualist

as the un happy choice between randomness (which comes from a consistent individual ism) and indeterminacy (the r es i du a l status of "collective references" w h i c h cannot be in trodu c ed in a direct way). To the degree that Mead has successfully brought together " attitude" and "response" he has avoided gi v in g com­ munity the residual status it assumes in most individualist work. By doing so he has shown how contingency becomes incorporated in the moment-to-moment specification of c ol l e c t i v e order. Yet Mead did not entirely escape the individualist dilemma altogether. There are significan t p laces in h i s work where the autonomy of attitude and response is collapse d . H e proclaims, in these i nstances, that the mean i n g of a gesture is determ ined not by a prior s ymbo li c system but by the respondent' s gesture itsel f, that is, by contingent and purely "pragmatic" individual considerations . He writes at one poin t , for exampl e , that

dilemma

of one organism to the gesture of another in act is the meaning o f that gesture and also is in a sense r e sp ons i b l e for the appearance or c o m in g into bei n g of the new object. . . Th e act or adjustive response of the second organism [therefore 1 gives to the gesture of the first organism the m eaning which it has. (p. 1 6 5)

The response

any given soc i a l

.

This

individualistic strand in Mead's work is, in part, the result inherent in the philosophy of

of problems which in my v iew are

Pr-agma tism a n d George Herbert Afead

211

Pragmatism itself. This philosophy is too anti-Kantian and anti­ Hegelian to allow any of its practitioners to transcend fully an individualistic poin t of vie w . Mead certainly was part of the Prag­ matist movement, and it should not be surprising that he was affected by the tensions within it. Whatever i ts source , this indi­ vidualism came home to roost in a way that eventually undermined Mead's synthetic accompli s h m e n t . It did so because the interpreter of Mead's thought for contemporary interactionists has been a Pragmatist much more exclusively i ndividualistic then he. This man was Herbert Blumer, and I will take up his theory and contemporary interactionism more generally in my next lecture. Before doing so, however, I would l i ke us to reflect, for a moment, on Mead's contribution n o t to classical sociology but to theoretical thinking in the con temporary period. Is it possible that Mead can be conceived as contributing to the debate which h as developed in the post-Parsonian period? This, after all, is the same challenge against which I measured the contributions and promise of the contemporary, post -Parsonian theories of conflict and exchange. This seem s a rather strange question to ask of a theory whose author died fifty years ago . Why bother with M ead, when we have his successors, the contemporary theorists of symbolic interaction­ ism, so closely at hand? You will certainly be able to answer this question better at the end of my next lecture than you can right now, for i t i s the contemporary theorists whom

\'1/ e

will

consider

next. For now , you must take something on trust: to see just what is at stake in these modern developments, we must thi n k first about the possible contemporary relevance of Mead. Mead left an ambiguous but extremel y significant l e gac y to mod­ ern sociological theory . The ambiguity revolves around the dis­ tinction between empirical level of analysis and presuppositional approach . This same distinction , I have shown, is relevant for post­ Parsonian theories as wel l . Should we take exchange, for e xample as referring to one empirical dimension of social action or as identifying a presupposition about action itself? In the case of Pragmatic social theory the question refers to order not action. Should we take the individualistic reference a s referring to the contingent element within an empirical social anangement or to a presupposition about order as such? In :\lead's technical termi,

212

Pragmatism a n d George

Herbert Alead

nology, the problem can be put in terms of the relation between attitude and response. Response is that segment of an action, or gesture , which incl udes the " 1 , " the unpredictable, contingent part of the self. Attitude , by contrast, refers to the culturally determined segment of the responding gesture , which M ead described as pre­ ceding the more strategic and open-ended response. Should we view the response to an action as one empirical phase of gesture, or the "theory" of gesture itself? Are the I a n d me different levels

of an empirical actor, or do we presuppose the actor either as an

I or a me? !\ow to the degree that Mead successfully separated the phases of attitude and response analytically while i nterrelating them em­ piricall y , he made a fundam ental contribution to our understanding of how a voluntaristic th eory of action actually gets "played out" on the level of concrete empirical reality . H e allows us to go way beyond Parsons' t heor y , but in a synthetic and multidimensional direction which

was

poi nted to by Parsons' himself. I n Parsons'

original formulation of voluntaristic t h eory , he described "effort" as central to the protot ypical unit act, the other parts of which were means, ends , norms, and condi tio n s . " Effort " brought free will and contin genc y into Parsons' action theory . Yet in the course of his subsequent sociol ogical work, and even in The Structure

Social Action

of

itself, Parsons h ad very little to say about this eleme n t .

M ead's theory , by con trast, allows us to see just how effort can be brought in. The norms of the unit act become represented through the actor 's "me " ; they are his social self. The

"I"

is the

engine which allows more specific goals or ends to emerge . The conditions and means of the actor' s situation , w h ether material or human, are " objects" to the actor in a particular action, often prese n t i ng themselves as gestures to which the actor must respond. Because h i s response is initially defined by the attitude he takes up, the norms wh ich stand outside a particular act are necesarily brought into play . But

response involves much more than this

phase. The actor must answer this gesture , once its meaning h a s been defined, i n

a

speci fic and concrete way. It is impossible to

predict precisely what this final response wi11 be, but the goal which is eve n tually chosen will produce a defi n i t e , i f slight, new direction for the o verarching normative framework. This particu lar response

Pragma tism and Geo rge Habert Mead becomes one of the gestures to

which

213

others henceforth respond,

to which their own normative frameworks must take up an attitude and adapt in a specific way. It seems clear to me that this much more elaborate understanding o f "effor t " allows us to understand, in a much better way than we coul d i n Parsons' work , how the moral constraints on action are in a continuous process of adaptation and change . Mead' s investigation of this empirical element makes

it much m ore difficult to confuse normative order with empirical stability i n the way that Parsons did so often in his more general theoretical work . I want to stress that even if we understand Mead's contribution in this wa y

we

m ust still conclude that h e left a great deal out.

He is concerned primarily with phases this may illuminate a framework

of interpretive process. While within which the kinds of i nstru­

mental calculations which are the primary focus of excha n ge theory may be understood, it certa inly does not take any direct account

of such processes themselves. Mead can help us understand how we naturally interpret others' gestures in terms of broader con­ ceptions of value

and justice; these inputs define our atti tudes

toward stimulus or reward. But about the cost s , supply , and demand of stimulus and reward, knowledge of which provides some sense of the

"obj ective"

profit from gesturi n g , M ead has noth i n g to say.

Nor, of course , does h e de scribe i n any detail the col lective con­

materia l , with i n w h i ch gesturing proceeds. sen se , however, i n which these considerations do not real ly matte r . I nsofar as Mead was produc ing i n sight into straints , cultural

There

or

is an important

various levels of empirical analysis he n a turally contributed more to our understanding of some areas of soc ial

life

than to others.

We do not ask an analysis of one e lement of empirical life to answer for every other at t h e same time . Yet Mead does n o t in every instance accept this self-limitatio n . We have s e e n that there is an ele m e n t i n h i s work which does take his emphasis on contingency as suggesting a theory of order rath er than a level of empirical analysis . He sometimes collapses the attitude and response phases of action, and in doing so presents meaning as if i t were merely the product of specific interactions. If the " I " becomes so domi nan t , then meaning is completely con­ tingent, and there can be

no

collective sources of order at all. This

214

Pragma tism and George He rbert A!ead

tendency seems quite contrary to the main thrust of Mead's work, which aimed precisely at demonstrating how institutions were part of the self. This internal view of institutions allowed social control to be conceived as a variation on mutual self-control and it envi­ sioned, as did the Pragmatic movement more generally, a decen­ tralized, informal society instead of a bureaucratic and coercive one . In this respect, Mead's theoretical hopes and ideological am­ bitions converged with Parsons' , who sought to make internalization serve much the same political purpose. Would we not be right in concluding, then, that Mead's early theory of i nteraction had the potential to make a considerable contribution to theoretical debate in the post-Parsons period? Un­ fortunately , this is not what has h appened at all. Why not? Because , I believe , contemporary interactionism has moved away from Mead's own institutional and collective thrust . Mead's most importan t suc­ cessors have emphasized his indeterminacy , the strain in his work which emphasi zed individualism in a presuppositional way . They tend to collapse attitude and response , and to identify individuality with the " I " in a manner which Mead would thoroughly have disapproved. The result is a rather one-sided misunderstanding of society , especially of how within a social framework i ndividual action can proceed . How this has happened is my topic in the lecture that follows.

LECTU RE THIRTEE�

SYMBO L I C I NTERACTI O N ISM

(2): INDIVI D U ALISM AN D THE v\T O R K O F B L U M E R A N D GO FF MAN

T

HE

C O N T E M P O R Y T R A D I T I O N o f p ra gm a t i c so­ cial theorv was ' ' officially" c re a t ed i n 1 9 3 7 , when Herbert Blumer wrote an article Jdenufy m g M ead as a "symbohc

interactionist . " 1 In retrospect this date of publication seems fi l led with irony, for it was in that same y ea r that Parsons published The

Structure

of Social

Action,

a

work which created an approach to

symbol s , action , and freedom which more closel y resembled Mead' s

own ! B u t his h i s t o r i c a l coincidence it first appears . Parso ns

was

part of

was a

not q u i t e s o accidental as

you n ger group of American

sociologists who were breaking away from the institutional and intellectual hegemony of t h e Chicago school , from the Pragmatic

sociological tradition which- in their ey es at least-has been rel­ at i vely untheoretical and individual istic . It was in

1 9 3 6 that t h is

rump group of mostly H arvard and Col u mbia trained sociologists had set up the A.merican Sociological Rn_,ieu_, i n opposition to the Chicago journal, the 1\merican Journal of Sociology. Blumer had been a gra d u ate student of M e a d s a professor in the C h i c a go department an d , until this anti-Chicago group deposed him in 193 5 , the sec­ '

,

retary of the national soc iological association . Blumer came to 1

Herbert Blumer, "Social Psychology , " in E. D. Schmidt. ed . , Man a nd York: Prentice-Hall, 1 937}. pp . 1 44- 1 98 .

(New

Socil'l)'

Individualism: Blumer and

216

Coffma n

intellectual maturity , in other words, in a period when interac­ tionism was declining in influence . Yet he was also writing just after major works of Mead had posthumously appeared , and during the years 1 94 1 -45 he went on to become editor of the .4merican journal of Sociolog)•. It is easy to i magine how-faced with the challenge of Parsons and these other Eastern-trained "young Turks"-Blumer may have been led to define a more individualistic form of interactionism . This definition maintained the distinctive­ ness of the Chicago tradition and in doing so may have kept it alive .

In the postwar period , as Parsons' i nfluence grew into a kind of intellectual domination, Blumer w rote a series of essays attacking the "established" sociological pos i t ion . These were finally collected in 1 969 in a book called simply Symbolic Interactionism: Perspective and Method. In the course of these essays Blumer laid out a positive course for his students to follow. He also established a position which they were to fight against. H is formulation of the established position is a scarcely concealed polemic against Parsons . \o\'ith this polemic Blumer, like Rex and Homans , establishes a negative straw man to justify his positive program for sociology . Blumer argues that Parsons, and functionalists generally, treat human behav ior as if it were merely the product of factors which "play upon" human beings. For these th eorists actions are "mere expressions or products of what people bring to their interaction or of conditions that are antecedent to their interaction. " 2 Because people's actions are left out , Blumer says, social systems are con­ ceived as operating "automaticall y , " without any reference to real human beings. The Parsonian traditio n , in other words , ignores meaning as a topic for sociology . Like Homans, then , and l i ke every individualistic tradition in contemporary t he ory, Blumer objects to Parsons on quite different grounds than do the theorists of the conflict school . Rex , you may remember, argued that Parsons was too voluntaristic and subjective in his understanding of order. Blumer a rgues that Parsons is not nearly individualistic and voluntaristic enough . N ow it is true, as 2

Blumer, "The Me thodologi cal Position of Symbolic l nteractionism,"

Symbolic

lntnactionism (Englewood Cliffs . N .J . : Prentice-Hall ,

1969),

in

p. 1 0 .

Blumer,

Ind1vidualism: Blumer an d

Coffman

217

I suggested i n my earlier

discussion of Mead, that P a r so ns had problems conceptualizing the open element of order in an em p i ri ca l way . I f you are interested in contin gency you must develop the kind of co nc re te and d e ta i led understanding of the p ro ce ss of interpretation which Bl u m e r la�·s out . At the sam e time , howe v er it seems sc ar ce l y credible to su ggest that P ar so n s viewed fac tor s as playing up on persons from th e outside, even less so to claim that he viewed systems as fu nc tio n i ng without reference to people and that meaning was n ot a problem for his sociology . N e ga t i v e straw men are set up to justify particular po s i t i v e positions. They are we apo n s in the never-ending theoretical war. If Blumer's caricature does not tell us much about Parsons' t heo ry it may tel l us much abou t his own . Soci al factors can be c on strue d m erely as pl a y in g upon hum a n beings to the degree that human actors are pictured in a s oc i a l and acultural ways, that is, as sharply separated from the socie ty in which they live. Systems can be seen as operat i n g m•er the heads of rea l people if the personalities of real people are seen as developin g qu ite apart from their ex­ perience in society. Funct ionalist sociology can be pictured as un­ concerned with meaning only if meaning is viewed as em e r g i ng from completely persona l decisions and feel ings . To understand Blumer's straw man , w e m ust turn to the theorv wh i ch he used it to justif)·· What is Blumer's approach to action? In contrast to Homans' it is not at all instrumental. Quite the opposite. Blumer is concerned with commun ication, not exchange . He insists that people insert interpretation between stimulus and response, their interpretation c o rrespo n di n g to the "discrimination " which H orn a n s noted but us u a l ly ignored . While this recognition of interpretation is certainly something wh i c h can be said for B lumer's theory , there are some drawbacks to this insistence as wel l . In the first place, it is the other side of his n o r m ati ve idealist bias. j ust as Homa n s emphasizes exchange at the expense of discriminatio n , Blumer emphasizes interpretation at the expense of exchange . This id e a l i s m can reach highly unrealistic extremes . "The nature of an object," Blumer actual ly suggests at one p oi n t "consists of th e meaning that i t has for the person for whom it is an object" (p. 1 0) . To equat e nature with m e an i n g is a serious mista k@.

definite

,

,

I

,

,

218

In dividualism: Blumer and

Coffma n

The other drawback t o Blumer's interpretive t heory of action has to do with the fact that he ties it reso lute ly to experience. If in Mead's terms we can say that Homans' mistake was collap si n g attitude and response to stimulus, Blumer' s mistake is red u c i n g attitude and stimulus to response . Blumer veers back to the indi­ vidualistic si de of pragmatism and away from Peirce and Mead; his i nsisten ce on ami-formalism and experience amounts to an indi­ vidualistic po si t ion opposed to social forc e . He suggests at one point, for e xa mp le , that "culture is clearly derived from what people do" (p. 6) . This is pure Darwin . Peirce and Mead would not have g on e n early so far in thei r pragmatic method. Indeed, they would have argued that what people do is just as m u c h derived from culture ! But B l ume r wants to tie interpretation to concete, individual interaction. He insists that m ea n in g is derived from or arises out of the social interaction that one has with one' s fellows" (p. 2). I t i s gesture that determines attitude, not v i ce versa: "The meaning of a thing grows out of the ways in which other persons act toward the person with regard to the thing" (p. 4). B lu m e r is turning the individualism of exchange theory inside out. He and Homans both focus ex clusi ve l y on the individual in his or her interactive envi­ ronment. U nlike Homans' individual, however, Blumer's is a dis­ criminator b e fore he is anything e lse. "The human individual confronts a world that he must interpret in order to act instead of an environment to which he responds . . . He has to construct and guide hi s action instead of merely releasing it in response to factors playing on him" (p. 1 5). Symbolic interactionism , then , gives the actor complete sover­ e i gn ty . It is a lot like good old American ideology . The actor is protean , the completely u n determined determiner, the mysterious, romantic, spontaneous creator of everything in the world. Here is the yeoman farmer, Horatio A l gi er and Thoreau in Wal den all rolled up into one: " The actor selects, checks, suspends, regroups, and transforms the mea nings in the light o f the situation in which he is placed and the direction of his action" (p. :>) . Mead' s for­ mulation would have the actor referring to s y mbo l i c systems. The continuing refrain in Blumer's a c c ou n t by contrast, is "self-indi­ catio n . " To find the meaning in a si t u ation the actor refers back to himself. Through self-indication, Blumer claims, "the human "

,

,

Individua lism: Blumer a nd

Goffinan

219

makes an object of what it notes, gives it a m ean i n g, and uses the meaning as the basis for d ir e c t i ng its acti on s " (p. 1 4). Thi s attributes to the actor an incredible power, almost an omniscience. He has co m p l e te control. He can choose , with complete p re sence o f mind, among a fantastic range of conscious, unconscious, and symbolic t h ing s . Action on the pa r t of a human being co n sist s of taking account of various things that he notes and for gi n g a l in e of conduct on the basis of how he i nterprets them . The things taken i nto account cover such matters as his wishes and wants, his ob­ j ectives, and available means for the ir ach ievement , the actions and an ti c i pa ted actions of others, his image of himself, and the likely resul t of a given line of action . (p. 1 5) M ead allow e d that the temporality of ge st ure means that r esponse involves temporary inhibition , which gives ac tor s spl it se conds to consider alternatives. For the most pan, howeve r , he insisted that such self co n sc i ou s n ess takes place within the parameters of cul­ turally determined attitudes. For Blumer pr ec i se l y the o ppos i t e is tru e . I t is the self-conscious r e spo n se of the i n di v i d u a l qua individual that determines the attitude he will take. Blumer's statement on this is w orth quoting at le ngth . is a m o v i n g communicative process in which the individual notes th i n gs , assesses them, gives them a m ea n ­ ing, and decides to act on t h e basis of the m ean ing . . . Environmental pressures, external stim u l i , o r gan i c drives, wishes, attitudes, feelings, ideas, and their l i k e do not cover or e xpl ain the process of self-indicatio n . The proce ss of self­ indication stands over a ga in s t them in that the individual poi n t s out to himself and i nterprets the appearance or e xpre ss i on of such things, noting a gi ven social demand that is made on him, recognizing a command, obs erv i n g that he is hungry, realizing that he wishes to buy something, awa re that he has a given feeling, con sc i ous that h e d i sl i k e s eating with someone he despises, or aware that he is thinking of doing some gi ven thing. By virture of indicating such th ings to himself, he pl ace s himself over against them and is able to act back against them,

Self-indication

220

Individualism: Blumer

and Coffman

accepting them , rejecting them, or transforming them in ac­ cordance with how he defines and interprets them.s (pp . 8 1 -82) This normative individualism defines Blumer's general theoretical position, the position which has come to be regarded, as the publisher notes on the back cover of Blumer 's collected essays , as " the most authoritative statement of the point of view of symbolic interactionism ." We might question this theory in several different ways. It seems , for example, to raise i mmediate empirical problems. In Blumer's approach to meaning as self-indication we see the Pragmatist and Puritan interest in practicality and use. Interpre­ tation is subordinate to purpose and to the need for acting con­ fidently in this world. As Blumer says, "interpretation is a formative process in which meanings are used and revised as instruments for the guidance and formation of action . " 4 This holds that any inter­ pretation is tested and retested in the world of practical experience , and discarded if it does not fit. But can an actor compare an attitude he has taken to a reality which is itself naked of an y subjective disposition? Can perception of discrete objects be made without any generalized context? Blumer believes it can , so it follows that for him meaning can be understood simply by looking at the local interactional setting. "The sets of meanings that lead partic­ ipants to act as they do," he writes , " have their own setting in a localized process of social interaction" (pp. 1 9-2 0). This is the same kind of entirely presentist perspective I questioned in Homans. It asks us to envision an actor without significant memory of past events, an actor who-at the very least-has never built up from early attitudes to generalized bel iefs. This seems to me an unlikely state of human affairs . We might also query Blumer's theory from an ideological point of view. Can such a vision of contingency and self-control do justice to the alienation and coercion that seem so immanent in the modern world? Individualistic theory does not logically imply blind optimism about the individual's fate in the modern world. It does, however, often lead to such optimism in practice. There is no better example !

pp. •

Blumer, " S ociety as Symbolic I nteraction i s m , " Symbolic lnteraons' goal (as distinct from his theory) as their ow n ; none, that is, tries to be synthetic or multidimensional . Only a synthetic position can avoid the resort to residual categories which tears a theory apart; only a multidi­ mensional position , moreover, can express the kinds of value com­ mitments-to conditional freedom , to the mediation of material constraint by subjective volition-which , in my view, any satisfactory modern social theory must have. My own goal for theory goes back to Parsons. I want to construct a multidimensional , synthetic theory which is less ambivalent than his original attempt, wh ich has, in other words, the courage of its convictions. "\-\'hat better way to accomplish this than to build upon the ach ievements of those challenging Parsons' work, without taking over the reductionism which made them vulnerable in turn? The new synthesis I am trying to construct is already partly complete. I have tried to build it in two ways . First, I have converted

240

Phenomenology a n d Edmund Husser/

into different levels of empirical analysis insights which were orig­ inally couched in theoretical, presuppositional terms-arguments about the significance of rational action , material constraint, con­ flict, interpretation, and contingency. Second , I have tried to bring these alternative presuppositional arguments together to shore up a truly synthetic position . Much more work remains to be done. Significant challenges to Parsons' theory have not yet been con­ sidered. Only if we do so can we get on with the task of building an alternative theory. What I will be considering today is not an alternative presup­ positional position but a new and in some ways more profound elaboration of one we have already considered. Ethnomethodology presupposes the same normative, individualist stance embodied in interactionism , but it specifies this commitment in an entirely dif­ ferent way . You will recall that when I began discussing interac­ tionism I felt compelled to go back to its very earliest forms, to the history of Pragmatism and particularly to the social theory of Mead. This was not because of antiquarian curiosity. It was, rather, because much of contemporary interactionism seems to me pecu­ liarly arid. Mead's early elaboration of this tradition differs from such contemporary th eori zin g in significant ways. I will continue this archeological bent in the present lectures on ethnomethodology and phenomenology. You will soon see why . Ethnomethodology was started by Harold Garfinkel in the 1 9 60s as another radical challenge to Parsons. Though I will tr y to show you that some of Garfinkel's early formulations were not nearly so "anti-Parsonian" as commonly believed, there is no doubt that as his theorizing developed-and he founded his ethnomethodological "school"-it increasingly became couched in a sharply individu­ alistic form. To be sure, there is much to distinguish this ethno­ methodological individualism from Blumer's interactionist one , but I will try to show you that it remains an individualistic theory nonetheless . In the course of its development, then, ethnometh­ odology has been individualistic in both an "empirical" and a "presuppositional" sense. I want to talk today about the source of this ambiguity. I will suggest that the theory has accepted collective order while denying it at the same time. To understand how and why this has been done, we have to go back to the very founder

Phenomenology a n d Edmund Husser/

24 1

Edmund Husser!, and we must place his thou g ht against the b ackgroun d from which it emerged . Husser! , who was German , began writin g in the 1 890s and finished his work in the mid- 1 93 0s, roughly the same period as the founding generation of A m eri c a n Pragmatists. H is thought, too, developed in the midst of an acute sense of social and intellectual crisi s . Europeans experienced not only instability b u t a stultifying sense of rigid objectivity, so much so that the period has been called "the age of anxiety. " Durkheim and Weber, of c ourse, responded to this crisis with collectivist theories which became much more widely known than Husserl's more obscure , philosophical work . They opposed the constraint of the age by developing theories of collective subjectivity . By contrast, Husser! tr i ed , much as the Amer­ ican Pragmatists had, to resuscitate creativity and hope by showing how collective order actually is constructed through individual intention and experience. In the Eu ropean context this was a much more unlikely response to the fin-de-siecle crisis than i n the Amer­ ican. Only the French philosopher Henri Bergson took up a similar line of theori zing. It should not be s u r p r i s i n g that B ergson s in­ dividualism also had a significan t , if much smaller effect on the emergen ce of the subjectively individualistic t rad i ti on in sociology. Husserl started the theoretical tradition called " phenomenology," which has a long pedigree in German intellectual h istory but which he cast in a substantial ly new form . Vl' hat phenomenology meant for Husser! was that reality is structured by perception . Even the things whose objectivity we n ormally take for granted are "there" for us only because we make them, or take them to be so. Husser!, then, respo n d e d to the sense of chaos and d iso r d er of his time by making dou b t about the realness of reality central to his theory. By incorporating the uncertainty, the anxiety, and the relativism of the early twentieth century, of course, he might be seen as having actually contributed to the experie n ce of disorder in a theoretical way. At the same time, however , Husser) believed strongly that there is a reality. What he wanted to show was that individuals contributed to the perception of reality in a c ruc ial way. He ac­ cepted, for example, the objective truth of science. He insisted, nonetheless , that this obj ecti v i ty could not itself be understood in an extra-subjective, impersonal way . In his view, you have to give

of phenomenology,

'

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up on the certainty that the world exists without subjectivity if you are to understand how the objective status of the world can be maintained. If you think this sounds rather paradoxical , you are right. Husser! believed that there is an order and a structure to the world. This belief in supra-individual order differentiates his thought from the Pragmatists' with whom he had so much else in common. Yet, and here he is very like the Pragmatists, he combined this belief with an insistence that our knm..:ledge about the structures of the world do not issue from the world itself. I t is not surprising to discover that Husser! was a mathematician before he became a philosopher, for it is in mathematics that we encounter the notion that objective truths which emerge from the logic of mind refl ect, at the same time, the actual structure of the external world. Just as mathematics has a peculiar relation to "positivism"-the notion that a scientist's knowledge is a more or less direct reflection of the outside world-so does Husserl 's phe­ nomenology. For while phenomenology agrees that scientific knowl­ edge m irrors the real structures of the outside world, it does not see this knowledge as havin g developed as a reflection of it. Rather than knowledge proceeding directly from the sensate experience of the world, it is viewed as deriving from active, constructive powers in consciousness. Husser\ was a sharp critic of psychologism . He believed little could be gained b y dwelling on how somebody "experienced the world. " It is not experience of the world which produces knowledge; it is consciousness which creates the world which is subsequently experienced. Pragmatists, to the contrary, celebrate experience; they believe that through the intense, psy­ chological encounter with the world the reality of structures can be directly perceived. Husser! took an i ndividualist stance , but he saw the individual as deeply implicated i n orderly patterns. This paradox is captured very well in a statement he made in a set of lectures which formed the basis for the last book published in his lifetime , Cartesian Meditations: "The objective world, the world that exists for me, that always has and always will exist for me, the only world that ever can exist for me-this world, with all its

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objects . . . derives i ts whole sense and its existential status . . . from me myself. " ' The fi rst individualistic tradition we studied, exchange theory, would have thought this pos i t io n utterly absurd. For Homans, it is the objective worl d which shapes this "me," which is, after all, described by him as a reasonable facsimile of a calculating machine. Though Blumer understood that the individual actively interprets and constructs this reality , he treats the nature of this reality as unproblematic, conceiving of the actor a s interpreting an external , noncultural situation. Mead avoided this problem , since he insisted that the basic meaning of the situation is assumed before an in­ dividual makes any assessment of the relative possibilities for stra­ tegic and interactive beha ..·ior. Yet l\·l ead's understanding of attitude formation was itsel f quite mechanical . He saw it as emerging, instantaneously and automatically, from the memory of past en­ cou n ters stored in the " me . " Husser! has much less to say than Mead about the social and developmental origins of such collective reference-for example , the generalized other-but he has much more to say about how the subjective structuring of the situation actually proceeds. To understand the role that individ ual consciousness plays in constructing the world, you must cast doubt on the " realness" of the world . You must, in other words, assume a position of doubt about whether what you see and hear outside of yourself actually exists apart from your making it appear to be so. " The world is for us," Husser! says , s o m ethin g that only cla ims being" (p . 1 8 ; italics mine) . I ts objective being, in oth er words, i s not automatically given; it is a claim, an ambition , that m ust be made good . The "sense of reality," the " sense of structure" , comes from the in­ dividual person , not from the world itself: " l t is given to con­ sciousness perceptual!)' . . as it itself ' (p. 1 9 ; italics mine). But how does consciousness and/or perception actually pull this off? To find out you must develop a m e thodology, a technique for doing social analysis, which allows you to center the world around "

.

1 Edmund H u�serl, Car/esia u Atfdita/wn.; ( The H ague: Maninus 1\ ij hoff, 1 960), p. 26. Hereafter page references t o Ca rtRSian Mrr!italimu will be gi ven parentheticall y in the tex t .

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the individual-almost the Coper nican Revolution in reverse. You must give up your "naive attitude" toward the world, which accepts the world as valid without human participation . H usser) calls "daily practical living" naive, because it is ba sed on one's "immersion in the already-given world, whether it be experiencing, or thinking, or valuing" (p. 1 5 2). Because actors are immersed in the worl d, they do not realize that it is they themselves who are producing it . "All those productive intentional functions of experiencing, because of which physical things are simply there, go on anony­ mously. The experiencer knows nothing about them, and likewise nothing about his productive th inking" (pp. 1 52- 1 5 3). But these intentional functions , the constitutive work

of consciousness,

go on

nonetheless ; "The numbers, t h e predicative complexes of affairs, the goods, the ends, the works, present themselves because of the hidden performance; they are built up , member by member. " It

is precisely because they are so effective that "the intentional performances from wh ich everyth i n g ultimately originates remain unexplained" (p . 1 3) .

Husserl sees action a n d order in terms o f the "productive inten­ tional fu nctions which , p r oceed i ng a non y mousl y and u nconsciously as "hidden performances," allow the world to appear ironically as if it does not need consciousness at al l He calls this focus ,

.

" transcendental subjectivity, " for it studies the universal functions of the mind without regard to any particular mental content (p.

20). Indeed , only by "bracketing" the naive assumptions we make about the reality of the particulars of our existence can transcen­ dental subjectivity

be discovered.

To do th is, to shed the naive

attitude, is to engage in what Husserl calls the " phenomenological reduction . " The phenomenological reduction is the method by which we can study the essentia l struc tures of pure consciousness. Phenomenology is the "a priori science . " It studies the rules that consciousness follows for making things seem actual (p. ception presents the thing s

of

2 8).

Per­

the world as authentic and inter­

connected, whereas reality , in Husserl 's view , is actually an uncon­ nected stream of atomized events . Phenomenological analysis shows how consciou snes s, through hidden performance s , transform s this objective reality into something quite different, into an image of a transcendental, objective, authen tic, and integrated thing. To

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find out the rules for the operation of such consciousness , Husser! sets out to discover "a mode of combination exclusively peculiar to consciousness" (p . 28). How does consciousness combine what are actually discrete, un­ connected events into an apparently integrated and orderly whole? In their desire to synthesize and combine elements of reality , Husser! suggests, people inevitably draw connections between thin gs in their environment. Try to think, as Husserl often does, of some three-dimensional obj ect, for instance a chair . Recall, in a com­ pletely literal way, what images your vision of such an object actually amount to. What do you see of the chair in the course of moving about the room? You certainly never see the complete, well-pro­ portioned chair as such . I nstead, you see part of one leg, a different part of another, a small slice of seat from a weird angle , and so forth . The images of objects actually presented to the mind, there­ fore, are random, changing, and essentially uninte grated . Yet the mind does not accept, or even consciously see, such "incoherent sequencing" (p. 4 3 ) . First, consciousness seems very insistent on making spatial connections. You almost always believe that near, far, and middle range things are part of-indeed , must be seen as composing-a whole. More generally, the mind inevitably constructs a "horizon of reference . " You make an immediate, tacit connection between things you genuinely see, things you have not yet perceived but antici pate see ing, and th ings you be lieve you would be able to see if you wanted to. Husser! describes these unseen but mentally imagined things as " also meant" (p. 44) . All these constitutive abilities are based on memory, and a more anti-Homansian perspective on the past could hardly be found. Husserl believes that every n e w impression is seen as "evidence" of some general type of thing. Yet this can happen only if we remember things from previous experience; we use our constructive capacities to make connections between atomistic images, to make them seem like things seen in the past . " 1\;ew evidences," Husserl writes, " are restituting of the first evidences" (p. 60). This appre­ ciation of memory allows him to suggest yet another structuring mechanism that is inherent to consciousness, namely the ability to connect events temporally in order to create temporal sequences . There seems to be an internal a n d naive sen se of t h e connection

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between past, present, and future. This capacity is one other way we make continuous connections between thin gs which are, in objective terms, separated and unattached. It i s the mind, then , that constructs the axes of space and time which allow the world to take on spatial and temporal objectivity. Because of such ability, when the actor encounters things he senses that they are "already constituted" in advance (p. 45). The object, Husser! says, is "always meant expectantly as having a sense yet to be actualized." Or as he puts this in the metaphorical language which ethnomethodology was later to take up , " in every moment of consciousness it [the object] is an index" of prior expectations (p . 46) . In conventional terms, of course, an index is an abbreviated set of indicators which point to more elaborate discussions appearing earlier in a book . Husser! is saying that objects encountered in reality have much the same status; they stand for, they signify, a host of meani ngs which have been learned in earlier experience. To allow n ewly encountered objects to achieve i n dexical status, specific techniques are required. Above all , there is the constant use of analogizing. Each everyday experience in volves an analogi zing transfer of an originally instituted objective sense to a new case, with its

anticipative apprehension of the object as having a similar sense . . . At the same time that sense-component in further experience which proves to be actually nev.· may function in turn as in s t it u ti v e and found a pregiveness that has a richer sense. (p . 1 1 1 ) More specific than the technique of analogizing is " pairing. " Con­ sciousness constantly pairs things '\'iith other things , people with things, people with people , people with the actor himself. What rules pairing is the principle of identity. It is through such specific techniques and through the general constitutive mechanisms of consciousness that the "object world" can be said to be an achieve­ ment of intentional acts. Husser! bel ieved that the study of such techniques would usher in a new world for the social sciences, one that would establish the essential bases of social order once and for all. We must focus on the "universal phenomena of the transcen den tal >phere" (p .

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247

1 1 2)-the techniques o f consciousness-so that w e can analyze "the transcendental constitution of any object whatever" (p. 5 1 ). B y "object, " Husser! meant to include the entirety of social, not just physical life . J ust as phenomenology has provided "a constitutional theory of physical Nature , " so it would provide "a constitutional theory of m a n , of human community , of culture . " Each of these topics , Husser) believed, "points to a vast discipline with different lines of investigation . " The purpose of each discipline would be to convert the investigation of " naively" held concepts like "real space" and "real property" into a study of the intentional practices which comtitute each of them as "objective" social facts (pp . 6 3-64). This is ;m extraordinarily ambitious program . If it were carried out it would , indeed, illum inate some of the most complicating problems in contemporary social theory . The question remains, however, whether such a transcendental phenomenology really could substitute for contemporary social science as such . It is my con­ viction that it certainly could not . While Husserl's study of con­ sciousness points to crucial elements in the subjective construction of collective order, it offers no compelling evidence that this con­ sciousness is any more important than the e n vironment within which its activit�· unfolds. By making the claim that phenomenology will initiate a new social science, H usser! is suggesting, in our term s , that it can explain social order as such . Rather than pointing simply to a n ew level of empirical analysis, he wishes to establish individualism in a presuppositional way. With th is claim , the stimulating, paradoxical quality of his theory changes into a confining theoretical dilemma . If viewed as presuppositional rather than empirical discussion, Hus­ serl's position is a one-dimensional and limited one . As far as the problem of action is concerned, his e laborate attention to con­ sciousness can be seen as the other side of his neglect of instrumental rationality , the very type of action that relates the actor to his world "as if' it were composed only of external objects. I ndeed, Husserl openly embraces this idealist position . "I . . . have obj ects," he writes, "solely as the intentional correlates of modes of con­ sciousness of them " (p. 37). At one point, in fact, Husserl actually calls his method "transcendental idealism," insisting that "every imaginable sense, every imaginable being . . . falls within the

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domain of transcendental subjectivity, as the subjectivity that con­ stitutes sense and being." And he argues that "the attempt to conceive the universe . . . as something lying outside the universe of possible consciousness . . . is nonsensical" (p. 84) . The idealism of Husserl' s approach to action is compounded by the individualism of his approach to order . Idealism can be collective or it can be individualistic, and it wou ld certainly be possible to focus on the constituting features of consciousness while not pre­ supposing order as constituted by individual consciousness alone. Husserl, however, looks at the structure-producing capabilities of the individual mind rather than the typical structures and processes of culture. As a result, his view has some of the same weaknesses as traditional religious thought . It seems revealing to me that he closes Ca rtesian Meditation by quoting from Augustine: " Do not wish to go out; go back into yourself. Truth dwells in the inner man" (p. 1 5 7). I should immediately add that Husserl , like so many of the other important theorists we have already discussed, was not completely unaware of the shortcomings of his work. This, by the way, has always seemed to me one indication of a theorist's stature, namely , that he senses the limits of h i s own theory and moves to extend them . While I have certainly criticized the ad hoc theorizing which usually results, this takes nothing away from the great insight required to introduce it. It is usually the unimaginative theorist who finds no problems with the theory within which he works and whose writing, therefore, is more internally consistent. Toward the end of his life, in published and unpublished work, H usser) indicated a genuine desire to connect his insights into individual consciousness with a recognition of the collective status of the social . He suggested that the intentional construction of meaning gives rise to, and is carried out within, " life-worlds," which is the name he gives to collective orders like cognitive styles , symbolic patterns, and communities. As he wrote , for example, in an essay which was published only after his death : " To live as a person is to live i n a social framework , wherein I and we live together in community and have the community as a horizion . " 2 1

" Philowphy and the Crisis of European M a n , " in Hmserl , Phencmenolog_v and of PhilosophJ (:--l ew York : Harper and R o w , 1 96.'>), p. 1 5 0 .

the Crisis

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It i s essential t o see, however, that while Husser! comprehended some of the limitations of his approach , he did not succeed in reconceptualizing the presuppositions of h is theory as such . I ndeed, more than most great thinkers he succeeded in introducing new categories-in this case the concept of "life-world"-without re­ sorting to residual category . The life-world, Husserl explai ne d , is formed by extending the techniques through which actors constitute thei r own individual worlds. Actors construct society through analogy, pairing, and the host of other techniques through which discrete and unfamiliar things appear integrated and " already known." H usserl writes, for example, of how "the other body there enters into a pairing association with my body here" (p. 1 1 9) , and he suggests that "it is implicit in the sense of my successful apperception of others that their world, the world belonging to their appearance-systems, must be experienced forthwith as the same as the world belonging to my appearance systems" (p. l 05 ) But in light of the understanding of symbols, cultural systems, and socialization we have developed in this course, this approach to the relation of individual and society seems highly artificial. Husser) is still maintaining that everything starts with the ir­ reduceable atom of the individual, that society is a mode of con­ sciousness which begins with you yourself. All that is changed is that he now is willing to admit that " not all my own modes of consciousness are modes of my self-consciousness" (p. 1 0 5 ; italics mine) . The problem is that the "others" who are described by Husserl as the objects of these socially oriented constructive tech­ niques are left completely unexplained. H usserl begins his account in the following way : " Let u s assume that another man enters our perceptual picture" (p. 1 1 0). He never provides an explanation of what motivates that man to enter in the first place or what he is actually thinking when he does so. In my view, Husser! was not really interested in the structure of the life-world after all. Rather, he wanted to demonstrate that , whatever collective order is like and hov.·ever it is internally con­ stituted, its ability to exert collective control rests on the phenom­ enological techniques of consciousness. This seems precisely the point he was making in a nbw famous letter he wrote to the .

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Phenomenology a n d Edmm1d Husser[

anthropologist Levi-Bruhl. He acknowledges here that a cultural analysis of collective patterns can also show sources of social life which are "beneath" the naive reality of the life-world, but he insists, nonetheless, that this social understanding of the structure of life-worlds can only be preparatory to phenomenological analysis as such . In such moments, Husserl succumbs to the temptation to transform the collective reference of his theoretical i n di v idualism into a dangling residual category . The best students of a great thinker are bound to revise him in significant ways, for they are often much more concerned then he with the vulnerable points in his thought. Husserl 's most important followers focused on this delicate issue of the " social . " They tried to tranform these references in his later work, whether residual or not, into theories which related phenomenology to sociology in a systematic way. In the process, they tried to make individual "consciousness" a level of analysis rather than a presuppositional position . M aurice Merleau-Ponty , for example, wrote about Hus­ serl's "dilemma." He analyzed this dilemma in terms of whether the life-world should remain residual to phenomenology or whether it should be conceived as significantly affecting the obj ects that individual consciousness helps to produce . He himse l f believed

that

intentionality can operate only in reference to the culturally given­ "it is not the mere sum of expression taken in isolation."� Another important revisionist, Alfred Schutz, took the argument even fur­ ther. " Our everyday world," he insisted , "is, from the outset , an intersubjective world of culture. " 4 Schutz developed what he called a mundane rather than transcendental phenomenology . He inserts transcendental intentional activity into the context of particular cultural orden and he w ants to show how both play essential roles. Schutz and Merleau-Ponty both produced strong and perceptive programmatic statements about the need to redefine the conscious­ ness/society relationship. Schutz, moreover, conducted several em­ pirical studies that were so programmatically informed. Yet even Schutz's most ambitious effort remained provisional ,5 and most of � M aurice Merleau-Ponty, ''The Philosopher and the Sociologist" [ 1 960], in Thomas

Luck m a n n , ed . , Phenomenology and Sociolog)' (London: Pen guin , 1 9 78), p. 1 5 3 . 4 Al fr ed Schut z , " Phenomenology and the Social Sciences" [ 1 940 ), i n Luckrnann,

pp. 1 3 4- 1 3 5 . � Schutz, The

Phmomenoiogy of the 1 967).

t.: niversity Press ,

Social World

( I 932:

Evan ston ,

Ill.:

Northwestern

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his theorizing presented a n "amalgamation" rather than a truly synthetic marriage of sociology and phenomenology . The relation was announced but never really consummated. Look, for example, at this statement in what probably remains the most influential theoretical statement Schutz ever made. The naively l iving person automatically has in hand, so to speak, the meaningful complexes which are valid for him. From things inherited and learned, from the manifold sedi­ mentations of traditions, habituality, and his own previous constitutions of meaning, which can be retained and reacti­ vated , his store of experience of his life-world is built up as a closed meaningful complex. The experience of the life-world has its special style of verification. This style resu lts from the process of harmonization of all single experiences. It is co­ constituted last but not least, by the perspectives of relevance and by the horizons of interest which are to be explicated.6 first two sentences in this statement acknowledge the collective cultural complexes that precede and influence individual action . The last three sentences refer to Husserl 's techniques for "veri­ fying" the familiarity and objectivity of the external world. Schutz is saying, quite rightly, that through spatial and temporal consist­ ency, through analogizing from oneself to other people, through pairing, expectant meanings, and i ndexing the culture that is already shared is made more widely applicable to new actors and to ongoing events. This statement points in the right direction , but it does not really get us on the train. 7

The

6

Schutz, ' " Phenomenology and the Social Science s , " p. 1 37 . The same very clear desire for sy n t h e s i s combined wit h the inability to carry it through can be seen in Schutz ' s delightful essay , " M a k in g M usic Togeth e r , " in 7

Collecled Papers

(The H ague: Martinus N ijhoff,

1 964),

pp.

1 59-178.

On the one

hand , Sch utz con nects H usser l ' s i n s i stence on the ''typ i fying" nature of consciousness to the power of collective cu lture m;er the m usical understanding of performers: "The player's general preknowledge of [a m u sical piece 's ] typicality b ecom es the scheme of reference for his i nterpretat ion of its pa rticularity" (p. 168). At the sa me time, he wants to su ggest a m u c h m o re indi\'idual istic interpretation, saying that

"such an t i c i pations are more or less empty" (p. 1 68), because ther are interpreted in different ways in different situations by spec i fi c performers . Later he in sists , quite ambiguously, that "the social relationship prevailing among the performers" is "founded upon " their ability to cast t h e i r relationship to the composer and to one another as a simultaneous, fa ce-to-face relationship in the "vivid present" (p . 1 77). Yet certainly this very presentne&S of individuals to o n e another depends equally upon the cultural st ruct ur e inherited from the past.

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Schutz's most important student, Harold Garfinkel, tries to take us all the way there. In the early phases of his career, Garfinkel continued the camouflaged effort to resolve the individualist di­ lemma in a truly synthetic way. He wanted to create a social , supra­ individual reference in phenomenology which would allow it to escape both randomness and indeterminacy. I will argue that in this early phase of his career Garfinkle was able to pull this off more effectively than any of his predecessors. Garfinkel's early success, I believe, has something to do with the intellectual background from which he emerged. Husserl's training in mathematics gave him a somewhat deceptive sense of order as just "being there. " Merleau-Ponty, by contrast, was a political activist whose socialism gave him a more accurate understanding of how historically specific structures influenced action. The Marx­ ism in his background, however, made it harder for him to un­ derstand how culture actually works. Schutz, by contrast, while studying with Husser! was influenced by Max Weber as well. He took over from Weber the notion of collectively-roote d normative patterns, though he was reinforced in his own individualism by Weber's sometime tendency to make cultural patterning an appen­ dage of individual choice, and he reacted against Weber' s over­ emphasis on rationality by becoming even more introspectively subjectivist in turn. Garfinkel, by contrast, had the good fortune to be trained by Parsons as well as by Schutz. Parsons had worked out the individual-society-culture problem further than any before him , and what he had not been able to understand gave Garfinkle good leave. From Parsons, Garfinkel could understand that order is given and persistent and outside of any individual actor. He also understood from Parsons that because order is cultural it is inter­ nalized and that for this reason it rests upon the feelings and intentions of actors themselves. It was because of Parsons that Garfinkel came to be preoccupied with normative order in a way that was quite different from earlier theorists in the phenomeno­ logical tradition. Though Garfinkel produced a number of different articles in the 1 9 50s and 1 960s, the most powerful statement of this early, and I believe most successful, position occurs in his long, detailed, and relatively obscure essay on trust, published in 1 96 3 but probably

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written sometime before.8 H e introduced i n this essay a n entire conceptual schema in the context of describing a series of ingenious empirical tests about how people play games. Certainly it was not mere accident that this fundamental attempt to incorporate nor­ mative order into the analysis of individual intention occurred in a study of "games." Games, as :\i ead demonstrated in his by no means unrelated work, are the very prototype of institutions which link individual desires to social needs and which, by doing so, civilize rivalry by submitting it to common rules. The first and probably most important move Garfinkel makes in this essay is to describe the games he is studying as supra-individual "normative orders" and "disciplines." You have trust between the players in a game to the degree that this normative order is maintained. But how can it be? To answer this Garfinkel brings together Parsons with Husser] and Schutz . Following Parsons, he suggests that rules are, and have to be, internalized. Following phenomenology , he warns that they must also be "worked." They must be worked at because norms and rules are effective only because they operate in conjunction with "consciousness" in a phenomenological sense . Norms and rules produce expectations for behaviors which articulate neatly with the order-creating, meaning­ intending functions of consciousness. The rules of a game depend on good faith . Good faith works because the mere existence of internalized rules creates "constitutive ex pectancies" among the

players. Rules, therefore, exhibit the following characteristics . First, players in the game (i .e. , the members of a group) expect a rule to be followed unquestioningly. They see it a s "objective," and assume the "natural" and " naive" attitude toward it which Husser] suggested is endemic to everyday life. Second, every player in a game expects all other participants to exhibit the same natural attitude , a proposition that follows from the phenomenological notion of pairing . How are these expectations confirmed? How is this naive attitude maintained? The trick is that actors feel compelled to constitute reality to conform with their normative and social expectations . 8 Harold Garfinkel , "A Conception of and Experiments with ' Trust' as a Condition of Concened S tabl e Actions," in 0. J. Han·ey , ed. , !vfotivation and Social ln teracrion (New York: Ron a l d Press, 1 963), pp . 1 8 i- 2 3 8 .

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Garfinkel believes that rules provide "categorical possibilities" which are viewed by the actor, unconsciously to be sure, as intended events. People then make every possible effort to bring "all actual observations under the jurisdiction of intended events as particular cases of the intended even t . " 9 This is what following rules means. Rather than games following rules, it is equally true that rules follow games! Here is how this phenomenological reconstruction of norms works in practice . Every situation in a game is referred for definition and interpretation to the rules. These rules are viewed as embodying past experience, while in fact they helped produce and direct prior experience much as they are doing with this new event in turn . There is , then , in every game an ongoing process of what Garfinkel calls "normalization" : new events are depicted as normal and con­ sistent with past events and with the overarching rules . To describe in what actual techniques normalization consists, Garfinkel follows Schutz and Husserl in suggesting comparability , analogy, pairing, and most interestingly of all , the "etc. clause. " This last, Garfinkel's own invention , holds that no given set of rules can be expected to refer beforehand to every possible kind of event; for this reason , every given set of rules must b e extended and reformed t o cover new situations without seeming to be changed at all . It i s because these intentional techniques are continuously em­ ployed that a naive attitude toward rules and norms can be main­ tained by m embers of social groups. It is because of the constituting techniques of our consiousness that we think rules exist and that we believe they control behavior , not only ours but everyone else's. This belief is actually a self-fulfilling prophecy . What really happens is that we elaborate and extend rules to fit our new situation, forcing the rules to fit this objective reality as much as limiting this reality by our prior commitment to them . This is the nature of normalizing-and normativizing-action. Social order can be threatened if constituent expectations are violated in such a drastic way that they cannot carry through with normalization. The new event in this case produces senselessness rather than sense, and radical or revolutionary norms must be .

� Ibid. , p. 1 94 .

.

.

Phe n o menolOg)' a n d Edmund Husser!

255

constructed which will allm�o· normalization i n a new and different "game." Senseless events, in this subtle sociological definition , mean events that defy analogizing. There is, in Garfinkel's words, a "breaching [of] the congruency of relevances" and of the "inter­ changeability of standpoints. " Even the plastic "etc. clause" is not supple enough . Collective memory malfunctions; it cannot tradi­ tionalize reality . N ormative order breaks dow n . The constitutive mechanisms of consciousness have not changed; what has changed is the collective inputs on which they depend. Yet there is still an interrelationship, for the continuity of normative order depends upon these constitutive mechanisms taking place. When the latter falter, the discontinuities of the former are made much more intense . Because of his presuppositional commitmen t to collective order, Garfinkel's phenomenological insights have produced remarkable results. Rather than c hallenging the existence of collective order, he has illuminated how much the construction of this order depends on the actor 's ability to grapple with contingency. He has shown that Parsons' most important "functional ist" concept-cultural in­ tegration-cannot be fully understood w ithout referring to pro­ cesses of which Parsons was scarcely aware. For value internalization is not the whole story ; the socialized personality must "act" in constitutive ways. Integration is sustained from event to event not simply through value internalization but through the normalizing process which Husser! and Garfinkel describe. Yleaning consistency is not only a matter of arranging symbols coherently inside the cultural system. It is also the result of being able to construe events logically from the inside. For this reason Garfi nkel can argue that sociology must pay carefu l attention to "accommodative work . " Although from the perspective o f the intentional actor collective order does indeed have the quality of a contingently emergent product, Garfinkel seems c learly to understand that accommodative work occurs only with reference to internalized rules: constitutive expectations exist, and intentions are carried out, only in relation­ ship to an internalized c ulture that produces a n initial cultural mapping of legimate order. What w e have seen in this early work of Garfinkel' s is a strain of theorizing we found also in Goffman and to a much greater

256

Phen omenology a n d Edmund Husser!

extent in Mead. I am referring to a

o mpel l i ng exploration of individual action that is not "individualistic. " T h is is just the kind of thinking w h ic h is necessary if a multidimensional theory is ever to beco m e more fully elaborated and empirically sp ec i fied The c

.

problem is that such theorizing requires remarkable intellectual discipline. You must be open to individualism without fully em­ bracing it, and you must be able to accept order without allowing its deterministic quality to dominate your thought. Garfinkel de­ veloped this a pproac h during the 1 95 0s , when the challe n g e to Parsons' collectivist theorizing had hardly begun . When he n a med his theory • •ethnomethodology" in the 1 960s the anti-Parsonian movement was fully u n derway In my next lecture I will show you how i n the course of becoming ethnomethodology G a rfi nke l s thought underwent a subtle but profound change, and how in the course of the 1 960s he became caught by the in d i v id ualist di­ lemma-after hav ing first transcended it. .

'

LECTU RE F I FT E E N

ET H N O M E T H O D O L O GY

(2):

HARO LD GARFIN KEL'S REBEL L I O N AGAI N ST N O RM S

W

HEN

G A R F I I'\ K E L \ 7 , in

Bellah,

Clifford Geertz: Against Determinism

309

. the " Religion [is] that symbol system that serves to evoke context in which life and action finally have meaning. " 7 How does all this relate t o Parsons? Bellah's position has a certain ambiguity. He developed the notion of symbolic realism to oppose what he described as the dominant orientation in Western sociology, and it was certainly Parsons, more than any other figure , with whom Western sociology in the postwar period was identified. The implied critique is underlined by the circumstances of this phase of Bellah's work . In 1 967 he had moved from the sociology de­ partment at Harvard, long dominated by Parsons, to the one at the University of California at Berkeley . I n his preface to Beyond Belief, the collection of essays he published in 1 9 70, Bellah describes this move as a transition from a strait-laced intellectual atmosphere to a "wide-open" one . Berkeley , you might remember, was at the center of the 1 960s social and cultural upheaval, the same social changes that formed the backdrop to the anti-Parsonian challenges in sociological theory . Bellah makes the link explicit. In the same preface, he writes that in the few years since his move , "my thinking has . . . been influenced by the emergence of a counter-culture. " 8 And he makes no bones about the change in his relation to Parsons, recalli ng, in an introduction to one of the earliest essays in that volume, that at the time he had written it he " was still caught in the unfolding of the Parsonian theoretical scheme."9 Bellah's new emphasis on symbolic realism , then, must at least in part be viewed as a rejection of Parsons , an attempt to create a really strong theory of culture that Parsons did not have. Yet Bellah does n ot want to reject Parsons entirely . In the preface to which I have just referred, he adds, after his declaration of independence from Parsons , that while he has "shifted some of the emphases," he considers his later essays "more a development than a repudiation of Parsonian theory. " I n the pivotal essay on symbolic realism, moreover, Bellah places Parsons in the avant­ garde of anti-reductionist theorizing rather than in the mainstream of contemporary sociology . He writes that "to some extent what I have said parallels the famous argument of Talcott Parsons in 7

Ibid.,

pp.

252-253.

Bellah, Beyond Belief, p . xvii. 9 Bellah, " Appendix: The Systematic Study a

of

Religion , " in

Be)•ond Belief,

p. 260.

Clifford

310 The Structure

Geertz:

A..gainst Determinism

of Social Action, " and he insists that Parsons, too, speaks

of "symbol systems as partly autonomou s . " 1 0 There are, it seems to me, clear theoretical reasons for this ambivalence. It is a strongly cultural theory , not an idealist one, that Bellah is after. Just as social systems find meaning from within cultural systems, symbols must always be seen as lodged within social structures. In an earlier essay he revised for the 1 9 70 col­ lection, Bellah makes this multidimensional , typically Parsonian position perfectly clear. Sociological theory must distinguish , he i nsists, "between cultural system in a pure sense and [how culture works] in a social system. " Cultural systems refer to " symbol systems . . . more or less in themselves . " These pure symbols are the subject of "cultural history" or the "history of thought . " Socio­ logical theory is concerned with something different, with symbol systems only insofar as they are part of the social system . Bellah writes that "within the social system there are cultural elements that are partly constitutive of that social system ," and he calls these , following Parsons, the "social value system." 1 1 He wants to use the notion of constitutive symbols-the notion which is crucial for his later conception of symbolic realism-in a socially related, not an idealist way. Though Bellah , like Geertz, eventually devotes himself to symbol systems and not just to values, he clearly sees no incom­ patability between strong cultural theory and a multidimensional frame. 1 2 In its initial sociological version, then , cultural studies took over key elements of hermeneutics while rejecting it as a general theory. It created a new theme i n the anti-Parsonian movement, but it did so without entirely rejecting Parsons' work . Drawing on herme­ neutics, Geertz and Bellah deepened their understanding of the nature and force of symbol systems . As they developed a new, more hermeneutic emphasis, they pushed meaning much more dearly to the fore. By making meaning more central , they made culture more important, and this new importance made it essential 10

11

Bellah, " Between R e lig io n and Science," pp. 240-24 1 . Bellah, "Values and Social Change i n M odern J apa n , " in Bey01zd &lief, pp.

l i 4- l l 5.

1 2 The best example in Bellah 's later work of a multidimensional approach to symbolic as opposed to value analysis is h is "Civil Religion in America," in &)!Ond Belief, pp. 1 68- 1 8 9 .

Clifford Geertz: Against Determinism

31 1

to find a stronger cultural theory. Sociology, to u se the concept of Ricoeur's I introduced i n my last lecture, would have to be more concerned with action as a text, but it should not forget context in the process. It would be nice if we could j ust stop right here . This middle position, in my view, is just where sociological theory ought to go. This is not, however, where the hermeneutic revival in sociological theory eventually stayed. The multidimensional position is no­ toriously difficult to maintain, even in the best of times. This was not the "best" of times in sociology, not best, at least, for theoretical positions in any way associated with Parsons' work . The hermeneutic revival was, indeed, caught up in the polemic against Parsonian theory. Like each of the ot her challenges to some one-sided Parsons' emphasis, this strand of post-Parsonian theory itself began to show a one-sided slant. One way of explaining this is to say that rather than being satisfied with critique and revision, the proponents of cultural theory sought to present a fundamental theoretical alternat ive. For cultural analysis to offer such a completely different perspective, it would have to build a theory of the whole society upon its insight into the importance of a single part. But if the part becomes the basis of the whole, the c omplexity of the whole becomes sacrificed to the simplicity of the part. Social theory would have to be related to cultural elements a lone. Insofar as cultural analysis becomes one-sided , or "culturalist ," it gets itself into the same kinds of problems as theories that are materialistic or individualistic. By emphasizing one part over others, significant aspects of reality are ignored. When this happens, how­ ever, the other aspects of action and order will find their way back in a residual form. This is the fate of every culturalist theory . It becomes inextr icably caught up in what I will cal l the " interpretive dilemma." Insofar as sociological theory becomes one-sided in a cultural way-insofar as it seeks to form a purely hermeneutic analysis­ it argues not only that there is always a cultural reference for every action but that there is only a cultural reference. Every change in action, every source of stability, everything that works for the good, everything that works for the bad-all must be explained in terms

312

Clifford Geertz.:

A.gainst

Determinism

of the search for meaning itself. Every culturalist t h eory is, as I argued in my last lecture, a form of sociological idealism . Now the idealist notion that action takes only a nonrational form is not unique to h er me neutics We have found it also in phenom­ enology and interactionism. What makes hermeneutics different, as I also pointed out in that earlier lecture, is that it insi sts that meaning takes a collective form. lnteractionism and ethnometho­ dology face what I called the i ndividualist dilemma. They cannot explain nonrandom , social order and remain within the framework they seek to maintain. This is not at all the case for hermeneutics. It assumes that order is collective . It "reads" action as if it were a text, as if it fol lowed a script composed of supra-individual themes. This makes it a much more culturally satisfying theory. What interactionism and ethnomethodology can i ntroduc e only in a re­ sidual way, hermeneutics can ta ke up in an explicit and systematical way . The problem of order is solve d by as sertin g the existence of cultural structure . Dilthey explained how the search for experience leads to common understanding and the objective m ind . Geertz described this collective order as a cultu ral system . Ricoeur likened meanin gful action not to a spoken discou r se but to a l i t era ry text. .

The explanation of order, ther., i s collective ideals . Yet this very advantage can also be a deficit i n disguise. The problem is that within the context of an idealist theory this collective

emphasis presents the spectre of determinism . If action is converted into a text, what remains of the actor himself, or of the exigencies of interaction? Parsons ac k no w l edged the element of cultural con­ trol, and he called it the cultural system. But he insisted also on the significance of interaction in concrete situations-on social systems-and on the purely particular , individual level of the per­ sonality. The cultural referren t in theory makes it voluntar istic only if the status of concrete, individual actors is clearly acknowl­ edged. Only if culture is conceived of as being internalized by personalities can it be seen as an expression of will, as a manifes­ tation of individual purpose and id entity Only if it is connected with purpose and identity, moreover, can it be linked to the search for meaning which, hermeneutic t h eory tells us, is at the basis of culture to begin with. Collective idealism, then , threatens to un­ dermine the very basis upon whic h t he hermeneutic position rests . .

Clifford Geertz: Against Detet·minism

313

It also makes it very difficult, we will see in a moment, to explain changes in social order and action which are not already part of the cultural system itself. The history of cultural analysis has manifested a strong tendency for such ideal reduction . We have already observed the n ormative slant of Dilthey's hermeneutics in Germany . In France, at about the same time, Ferdinand Saussure created a "science of symbols" on a different empirical basis but along much the same theoretical lines. He named this science semiology , and he based it on an analogy between individual symbols and the words of a language. He argued that actions must be converted into "systems of signi­ fication," or signs . The distinctive accomplishment of semiotics since then has come from its ability to do just that , to show that an order which appears to be governed by contingency and material constraints may actually be viewed as an emanation of cultural structures unrecognized by the actors invoh•ed . 1 5 The other significant contemporary form of collective idealism has been anthropological structuralism . Claude Levi-Strauss, the founder of this movement , transferred the language analogy to the study of myth, viewing the actions of primitive man as elaborating the structures of myth. To find the symbolic arrangements which composed them , Levi-Strauss insisted that myths must be studied completely independently of their social and psychological moor­ ings. Changes in culture, moreover , can be traced to internal structures and internal strains alone; they unfold independently , without input from other levels of social life . Myths " th ink them­ selves," Levi-Strauss claimed in a slogan that has become emblem­ atic. They do so, moreover, in a manner unaffected by the passage of time. Indeed, Levi-Strauss attacked the very idea of history, arguing that social science had to be "synchronic," static and systematic , rather t h an "diachronically" oriented to change and contingency . That s uch a deterministic approach undermines the relation of cultural analysis to meaning is an implication from which n Ferdinand Saus sure , Course i n Gtneral Lingui.stics (New York : New York Library, 1 960), especially the i n t roduct ion . This book was based on lectures Saussure gave in the first decade of this century. See also, in this regard, Roland Barthes , Elements of Semiology (London: J onathan Cape, 1 96 7) , especially pp. 23-34 , and M arshall Sahlins, Culture and Pra ctica l Reason (Chicago: U n h·ersity of Chicago Press, 1 9 76), especially pp. 1 66-20 4 .

314

Clifford

Geertz: Against Determin ism

structuralism does not shy away. The object of structural a nalysis, Levi-Strauss suggests, is a "totalizing enti ty " -that is, a collect i ve form-which is "outside (or beneat h ) consciousness and will . " It is "human reason which has its reasons and of which man knows not a th i n g . " 14 Ideal determinism, then , con stitutes an ever present possibility for a purely hermeneutic position . Indeed, I will go out on a limb and suggest that de ter m inism is inevitable if collective order is embraced in a purely cul tural way. A cultural theorist cannot avoid determinism if he does not wish to step outside of hermeneutics itself.

Does this mea n , then, that all who take the hermeneutical path are cultural determinists? " Logically" it does. But you h av e prob ab l y noticed in these l e ctu res that theorists rarel y remain satisfied with the logical i m pl ications of a one-sided posi t ion . B ecause reali ty h as a multidimensional quality, rival theories can take up arms against this position in the name of those aspects of reality it has neg le cted . When this happens, a theor i s t finds his own polemic quite a bit less satisfying! At this point he starts working to find some way around the "iron logic" of his work. For cu lt ural i s t theories there is a more specific element at work as well . This has to do with the t e ns ion between cultural idealism and the commitment to theo­ rizing in a socio l o g ical way. Those who study society-who are not simply students of literary texts-are rarely entirely c o m forta b l e with a comple tely symbolic explanation . Even if their explicit com­ mitments have beco me idealistic, they do not want to le ave insti­ t u tions , interaction, and personalities com p le t e l y behind . Just as phenomenological sociologists are "theorists with second though t s " because as social scientists they cannot really accept order in a random form, so do hermeneutic sociologists have regrets because they cannot ent irely ignore more typ i ca l ly social references. In principle, hermeneutics den ies individual contingency and m aterial environment . Individualists have criticized it in the name of c ontin genc y , and materialists condemned it in the name of social change and a more " realistic" conception of constraint. In response to these pressures , and becau se of their own in tern a l doubts as " Levi-Strauss , The

Savage

Mind, p. 2 52 .

Clifford Geertz: Aga inst Determinism

315

well, hermeneutic theorists have usually tried to alter their theories with out acknowledging they are doing so-probably even to them­ selves. They do so by tacitly referring to the very dimensions their presuppositions force them explicitly to ignore. We have seen the result of such efforts before. It is the introduction of residual categories, with all the theoretical indeterminacy this implies . H ermeneutical theory produces two kinds of residual categories. The first seeks to incorporate contingency . When a hermeneutician wan ts to escape the influence of cultural "codes" without acknowl­ edging that he is doing so, he will suggest that the ' 'meaning­ creating" quality of action makes it impossible to predict. Yet because he has not given up on his explicit commitment to collective order, the relation between contingency and cultural control cannot be specified in a theoretical way . Contingency is residual to the analysis, not a systematic part of it. The relation between this open, indeterminate element and the culture which is supposed to de­ termine it becomes anybody's guess. The other residual category introduced by the cultural analyst with second thoughts concerns the material realm. When they want to posit a source of disorder or constraint outside of self-referential cultural patterns, the hermeneutic theorists sometimes point vaguely to material conditions. Such conditions, of course, are not "in principle" part of hermeneutic theory, and it possesses no theo­ retical resources for conceptualizing their role in a systematic way . But how and why such conditions arose, not to mention what their precise relation to culture might be, is not the h ermeneutic theorist's concern . It is precisely because they are outside o f cultural theory that they are pointed to in the first place. They can do something that cultural theory cannot. But just because then can do so they must remain untheorized, that is to say they must remain residual to the analysis . The interpretive dilemma is the choice between cultural deter­ minism and residual category, of either a contingent or a materialist sort. A dilemma is a choice between two equally unsatisfactory alternatives. What is special about a "logical dilemma" is that the escape from either pole implies the other. The only way to avoid the horns of a dilemma in theoretical logic is to step outside the overarching theory itself.

Clifford Gee rtz.: Against Determinism

3 16

Ironically, if the interpretive dilemma is to be avoided without giving up on cultural a nalysis altogether, the radica11y culturalist position must be dissolved. The relation between culture, contin­ gency, and materi�l constraint can be theorized in an explicit way only from a multidimensional and synthetic position . Dilthey was forced to relegate the analysis of economic and political phenomena to natural science because his idealism led him to understand such processes i n an anti- \1 arcuse,

One-Dimemiona/ .\·ta n (Boston: Beacon P ress, 1 96 3), p. xvi . H ereafter to 0ni'·Di men sional Afan will be given parenthet ically in the text .

page references

Critical

Theo ry of Herbert Marcuse

355

placed n ot i n the mode o f production-for him composed of both t he forc e s a nd rela tions of production-but in the superstructure.

T hese s u perstructural re l ations of production , Marcuse then sug­ ges t s exist ed p r i o r to th e forces of capitalist produ ct i o n itself. ,

Capitalis t forces of p roductio n were introduced i n to relations which F already e xi st ed . ar from bei n g determ i ned by th e capitalist for ces

of

p rodu c t ion

" I ndivi d ual, "

,

"

thes e relations at least i nitially hemmed th em in .

priv a t e ,

"

" fam i ly , " even " class" itself, Marcuse main­

tai ns, at first " den oted spheres and forces not yet integrated with the esta bl ished con di tions" (p . xiv) .

F ar from top-dow n domination , then , t h e ea rly stage of c a p i ta l i s m s pheres of tension and con t radi c tion . , . Such was c h a rac te r ized by · ·

a sit ua ti o n a l lowed, e ven encouraged , a sense of inner autonomy and t h e exp re ssion o f i n de p e n de n t th o ught. I ndividuals a nd g r ou p s posses sed a n "i n ner dimension " w h i c h w a s cl ea r ly disti n g ui s h ed from , a nd e ve n a n t a g o n i s ti c to, the external exige n c i es of e c onomi c

life . "The pri vate space in which m a n may bec o m e and remai n ' himself, ' " M arcuse m aintains, re al ly exi sted in that earl ier pe r iod

xiv and 10) . Th i s extended to po l itical a c tivity. I n d e pend e n ce of thoug h t , autonom y , and the r i ght to po l itica l opposi tion" were powerfully ex er c i s e d (p. l ) and they possessed a highly critical edge . I t wa s no w o n d e r that it was i n t h i s pe r i od tha t , M arcuse argues, criti cal soci a l theory was first d ev e loped (p. x iv ) The r e s u l t was a tr i p ly disjunctive society. There w as the critical consciousness of ali en a ted and fo rc e ful intel lectual s ; there was the political op­ position ba sed on l i b erty and the autonomy of private life , of gro ups; there was , fi n a l l y , the obj ec ti ve in equ a l i ti es powe rful social a n d i nstabi l iti es wh ich provided a real motor for conti nuing dis­

(pp.

"

,

.

,

content and a gi ta t i o n

.

A s long as Marcuse confines h is analysis to the nineteenth cen tu ry , there seems n oth i ng pa r ti c ul arly dangerous-in theoretical terms, 1 m ea n about th i s a n a l ysis . To analyze the contradictions of cap­ -

ital ist so ciety he h as tried to develop , l i ke other important M arxists before h im , a d i s t i n c tiv e ly more voluntaristic theory than the o r i g­ ,

i nal. I n h is case , as for many others before him, this revision is moti va ted by an attempt to bring critique and transcendence much

m ore d i rec tly i n to t he capita l i st p eriod itself. Theoretical danger

does ar ri ve, h ow ev er, when Marcuse c h a n ges his focus to the present

356

Critical

Them�v of Herbat lvfarcuse

day . Here he is analyzing not social contradictions but

a

society

which is m uch more stable . Marcuse realizes that this contemporary society-Western capi­ talism in the 1 9 5 0s-is in relative equilibrium. Certainly it is w ithout any significant revolutionary challenge. There is subjective

accept­

ance of basic institutions . If this is s o , however, m ight not his voluntaristic theory of capital ism lead to the conclusion that con­ temporary capitalism is not that alienating after all? If society is based on choices, and if there is an inner autonomy that makes these choices reall y free, then it is only logical to argue that the behavioral acceptance of contemporary institutions tells us that actors have found somethi n g in them they want to preserve .

Marcuse is quite aware of the dram atic chan ges wh ich h ave

occurred in the last one hundred years . Rather than poverty, there is a high standard of living, an "ever-more-comfortable life for an ever growing number of peopl e . " Rather than class strife, conflicts are "modified and arbitrated . "

Indeed , Marcuse acknowledges,

"capitalist society shows an internal u nion and cohesion u n k nown at previous stages of industrial civilization . " It is quite true that the state often serves today as a neutral and respected mediator for economic disputes, that individual rights and liberties have become widespread , a nd that change and reform are the rule rather than the exception

(pp. 8, 2 1 ,

and

23).

Perhaps, then , t h e critics o f nineteenth-century society succeeded in attaining their goal . Maybe the fighting working class, the re­ forming middle class, and the critical intell igentsia had some effect? Perhaps capitalism has evolved into a more differentiated society , characterized by the inclusion of outgroups and plurali zation rather than by ruling class su perordination? T his was just what Rex implied when he discussed the possibility of p ermanent truce , with mutual satisfaction , though far from mutual ecstacy , being found on both sides of the class divide. If i ndivi d uals really retained their auton­ omy, as M arcuse's theory of early capitalism said , then their con­ tentment with the contemporary scene may indicate some active and voluntary change in the capitalist system . Individual achieve­ ment in an ope n society is , of cours e , just what Parsons h imself had in mind in his contrast between the postwar welfare state and

the laissez-faire "business system " he had criticized in his prewar work.

Critical

Theor)t of Herbert Marcuse

357

a m sure i t w ill co me a s no surprise when I tell you that, in fact, Marcuse does not draw such conclusions from his observations of stability a nd accep tance in contemporary society. The reason is not, I believe, simply because such conclusions would be empirically inaccurate . We must, for the moment, leave the issue of empirical accuracy som ewhat asi de. The reason Marcuse does not draw these conclusions is bec ause they would be theoretically dangerous. To do so wo uld be to u ndermine the integrity of Marxism as a the­ oretical system, and to compromise it ideologically as well. To reason in a consistent way from his earlier discussion would be to place motiv es, culture, and subjectivity in the forefront of his analysis of contempo rary capitalism as opposed to the analysis of capitalism 's material base. Marcuse's mu l tidi m ensional theory of early capitalism took up only a few pages. Th ough I have shown how radically different it was from M a rx's o wn work, Marcuse himself never made this explicit . To draw such conclusions would be to make his differences with Marx dram atica l l y apparent. It would show that Marx's theory of capitalism w as i na ccurate because, by denying the significance of consciousn ess, it proved unable to envision the possible subjective acceptance of contemporary life. More than this, it would threaten the millennia) hope for world transformation that is at the back of cri tical th eory . If social structures have intentional roots, and if contemporary struct ures seem to be willfully accepted, what hope, indeed what rationale would there be, for revolutionary transfor­ mation? Simply to ask t h is question shows how contrary such conclusions would be to t he en tire thrust of Marcuse's i ntellectual career. He wrote his early s k e tch to fix a point of departure, perhaps even to gain a measure of i ntellectual independence, but certainly not to step outside of the Marxist tradition itself. It is quite possible, indeed, that h e himse lf conceived this sketch as a simple elaboration of Marxian theory. I t is not, of course, but the implications of this not'" must be sharply curtailed. The voluntaristic and multidi­ mensional elem ents of Marcuse's early theory will never appear again . The e lements t h emselves, moreover. are l eft in a vague and indetermi nate state . We will see that Marcuse declares contem­ porary society to be h ierarchical and coercive in the extreme. How I

..

358

Critical

Theory of Habert

Mm-cti.Je

it got from there to here is never explained. Perhaps we are being asked to assume that the awfulness of contemporary society can explain itself. For his part, Marcuse leaves his earlier analysis dangling. It becomes a residual category . Marcuse is caught on the horns of the Marxist dilemma. Unwilling for ideological and theoretical reasons to step outside the Marxist circle, he has been forced to make his reference to voluntaristic effort vague and indeterminate. But one horn of the dilemma always implies the other . M arcuse makes the voluntaristic theory residual because he must present himself as accepting M arxism in an orthodox form . For this same reason he must reject even the indeterminate reference which remains, and he must embrace material determinism. He theorized that contemporary society is actually one dimensional. In doing so, he finds a way to assert the power of economic hierarchy and anti­ intentional motivation in the last instance. Marcuse first puts collective , external order back in place. He does this in a way that is just as determinate as Marx but still different in a revealing way . What has changed as compared with ear lier society, Marcuse insists, is the power of technology. Tech­ nical innovations like automation have made the machinery of production so powerful that the other social spheres no longer have any chance. Technological needs determ ine economic organi­ zation; they provide the goals of political life and the nature of political discourse; they determine the form and content of cultural life as well. Because of the power of technology, all the differen­ tiations of earlier society have been broken down . Technological determinism fuses the subsystems under its command. There is only the "omnipresent sys tem ," a one-dimensional society (pp . xvi, 1 1 , 23-3 5). Marcuse has moved back to determinism with a vengeance! I t might even be said that h e outdetermines Marx . Marx said that it was the mode of production that determines the superstructure , and he insisted that this productive mode was a product both of technological forces and particular property relations . Marx was not, in other words, a technological determinist . To the contrary, he wanted to suggest that technology-the force of production­ could be used in a benign way if only it were filtered through

Critical

Theor)' of Herbert Marcuse

359

productive relations which were socialist i n for m . Earlier, of course, Marcuse wen t much further even than this in isolating and neu­ tralizing the effects of technology per se . He argued that relations of production could exist completely independen tly of technology and econom ics. The descri ption of on e-dimensional society, then , not onl y re­ verses Marcuse ' s earlier model of subsystem relation s but actually becomes

m ore

unidimen sional

than

Marx.

Technology is now

equated with the mo d e o f production itself, and productive relations are considered completely subservient to it. But if relations are no longer independent, then the differences between capi talism and socialism become moot, for it was the c h a n ge of property from private to public that was i n tended by Marx to usher in the Golden

Age. I ndeed , one of the striki n g departures in M arcuse's M arxism is that

it speaks less ab out capitalism or social i sm

than about

"advanced i ndustrial soci ety . " M arcuse in sists that in a society with a technologicaJJy sophistica ted industrial system , " the tech nical ap­ paratus of production a nd d i stribution (with an i n creasing sector of automation) fu nctions, not as the s um-total of mere instruments which can be i solated from their social and pol i tical effects, but rather as a system w hich determi nes

a

priori " the other elements

in the s ystem . Because t hey ca n n ot be i solated , M a rcuse can em­ phasize the "si m i larities in the development of capitalism and com­ munism (pp . x v - x v i ) .

Where once t h ere h ad been a ch oice between system s , tech n o­

logical power h a s made choice irreleva n t . M arcuse speaks about "the slaves of de veloped industrial civi lization" w h o " exist as a n instrument, as a th ing. " Th i s , he writes, i s serv itude in a "pure

form. " Far fro m being th e drivi n g force for social liberation , as Marx once thought , tech nology

"serves to institute new,

effective, and more pleasant for m s

of

more

socia l control and social

cohesio n . " Marc u se cal l s t h i s " the totalitarian tendency (pp . 3 2-3 3 , xv) . The earlier t heory is

now defunct. Rather than autonomous

spheres and i n d i vi dual privacy , there i s economic domination . "The productive apparatus, " M arcuse i nsists, " obliterates the opposition between the pri vate and public existence, between individual and social needs. " Rather t h an conflict and disjuncture, there is con-

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Critical

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formity and harmony. "U nder the conditions of a rising standard of living," he writes, "non-conformity with the system i t se l f appears to be socially useless, and the more so when it entails tangible economic and political disadvantages and threatens the smooth operation of the wh ol e. The autonomy of culture from material base no longer exists, or, to be more pr e c i se the split itself is superseded by technological control: " The app arat us imposes i ts economic and pol itica l requirements for defense and expansio n on labor t i me and free time , o n the material and inte l lect u al culture . " The result i s not surprising: the possibility for transcendence has disappeared. " Today's novel feature, " M arcuse writes, " is the flat­ tening out of the a ntagon i sm between culture and social reality through the obliteration of the oppositional , alien, and transcendent elements" (pp. xv, 2-3 , 5 7 ) . How did this happen? How has M a rc u se moved from a theory more voluntaristic than M arx 's to o n e that is decidedly more deterministic? If you were to ask Marcuse himself this question, there is no doubt what h i s answer would be. He would i n s ist that it is empirical reality that h as changed , not his theory . Technology has changed and the structure of soc ie ty along with it. But acc ording to his e a r li er theory, economic forces-much less technologies­ can hardly be determinate forces. If we presuppose that earlier theory , the growth and power of technology ca n no t by themselves be grounds for the totalitarian transformation of society . Tech­ nology would have to be interpreted a cco rdi ng to nontechnological standards, and this interpretation might well produce protective act io n from the relatively autonomous po l i t ic a l intellectual , and familial spheres. Empirical transformation cannot , then , so rad i c al l y shift the grounds for the a na ly si s of action and order even in capitalist society . The a l ter n at iv e , of course , is to sugg est that this account of pure technological determination results rather from a change in theoretical perspective itself. It is not so much o n e-di m e nsi ona l soc i e ty as one-dimensional theory which e x pla i n s the later account. We must look to presuppositional and ideological reasons if we are to understand the way in which Marcuse has chosen to portray modern society. He is caught on the h or ns of the Marxist dilemma. I suggested earlier th a t to e x p l ai n the vague and residual status of "

,

,

Critical Theory

of Herbert Marcuse

36 1

h is earlier multidimensional account, we m ust appreciate how M ar­ cuse was caught in the same dilemma as M arx 's other revisors . I want to suggest to you now that this same situation explains his movement toward theory in a one-dimensional form . If Marcuse does not want to transform Marxism , h e m ust not only make his volu ntaristic innovations vague and residual but he must i nvoke economic determ i nism in the last instance. There is an iron logic at work from which he cannot escape . One indication of the stature of a theorist, we have seen t h rough­ out these lectures, is that h e senses the dangers to his pos i tion and tries to respond to them. If Marcuse i s to successfully invoke the l ast instance , he must convince u s that it is an emp irical change which has really occurred. N ow Marcuse has argued for a deter­ minate, indeed a totalitarian technological order. What m i g h t cast doubt on this statement? Certainly, the attitudes and feel i n gs of the actual human bei n gs in this tech nological society would be significant. Marcuse must i n sist that people today are not the same as those who peopled earlier capitalism . T hose earlier people cared deeply about thei r autonomy , were

comm itted to tra nscendent

cultural ideals, and resisted all material control . If "act ion " were stil l presupposed in

this way , it would challenge the

vision

of

technological order . Marcuse seems to sense this problem . Action and order must be made compatible. He moves , therefore, to revise

his earlier theory

of

action

as

wel l .

Marcuse 's challe n ge i s t o create a subservient a n d passive actor. He does so in two way s . The first is simply by going right back to the instrumental-material actor of M a rx . W h at is different now

is simply that the actor lives in a super-affluent society . The greater ability for this tech nological societ y to deliver the goods makes people more satisfied, indeed leads them to be enslaved to the apparatus that delive rs the m . C. Wrigh t M ills called postwar Amer­ icans "happy robots . " This n icely characterizes the implications of Marcuse's materia l i st solution as we l l . Bu t there is a m uch more subtle way in wh ich Marcuse pacifies the actor. At first blu s h , indeed , it seems that with this second strategy he does not actually step outside his earlier theory at all . He adopts the same central notion from Freud that helped Parsons to formulate his voluntaristic theory-the notion t hat the person-

362

Critical

Them) of Hn·bert Ma rwse

a l i ty is formed through introjections, or i n ternalizations, of social

objects which w ere originally outside the self. In a multidimensional theory, this recognition of internali za ti on leads to the autonomy of the actor. Since what the actor introjects is culture, and since culture i s relatively i ndependent of material structures, internali­ zation leads to the ability to act against structural i mperative s . The

way Marcuse now conceives the social situation , however , means that i ntrojection has the opposite result. Rather than being sepa­ rated from material structure , culture is determined by , i nd eed identical with i t . What is introj ected is not transcendent culture but the technological apparatus itself. M arcuse cannot go back to the voluntarist pole . He has invented one-dimensionalized society to get away from i t . In fact , if he allowed inter n a lizatio n to sustain autonom y he would not even be

back where h e started from: this autonomy would then be seen as occurring in the present stage of capitalism and not

just

in the

past. This would make the last instance impossible to evoke and Marcuse would have definitively stepped ou tside of Marx's original theory . M arcuse wishes to remain inside �1arxism , so some last instance must be found .

An empirical , historical transformation must be posited so that theoretical logic can be served . The transformation is technological domination . Because of this om nipresen t control , internalization leads toward passivity , not away from i t . I t is

"social

controls"

w h ich have been introjected. It is the poli tical needs of the state w h ich have become individual needs . \Vhat internalization accom­

p lishes is to convert the individual i n to a

piece

of tech nology ; it

amounts to the " i mplanting of material-intellectual needs" in the human being (pp. 9, i x , 4).

O ne of Marcuse ' s early descriptions of this phenomenon deserves quoting in ful l . [Individual ] needs have a societal content and function w h ic h

are determ ined by external powers over which t h e individual has no control ; the development and satisfaction of these needs is heteronom ous . �o matter how m uch such needs may h ave become the individual' s o w n , reproduced and fortified by the

conditions of his existence; no matter how much he id e n t ifies h i mself with them and finds h i m self in their satisfaction, they

Critical Theory

of Herbert Marcuse

363

continue to be what they were from the beginning-products of a society whose dominant interest demands repression. (p.

5) With this diabolical sense of internalization , Marcuse has found a foolproof way to avoid the theoretical embarassment of present­ day individuals expressing satisfaction with the present order. Even if they do so, it doesn't matter. It would be the technological order speaking, not themselves. It is revealing, it seems to me, that Marcuse picks up the Marxist idiom of "last instance" to make this point: with this transformation of action, he feels, material determinism is finally securely in place. " In the last analysis," he allows, the question of whether individual feeli ngs are thei r own or simply introjections of the dominating system ''m ust be answered by the individuals themselves." He warns, however, that this is true "only in the last analysis; that is, if and when [individuals] are free to give their own answer" l At the present time, nothing which individuals say about their lives can be used as evidence that they have helped to constitute them in an autonomous way: " As long as they are kept incapable of being autonomous, as long as they are indoctrinated and manipulated (down to their very instincts), their answer to this question cannot be taken as their own " (p. 6). Marcuse is arguing that multidi­ mensional theory-a theory that separates subjective motivation from institutional determination-is impossible in a one�imen­ sional society. I would argue, to the contrary, that he makes this very suggestion because he himself is unable to sustain a multidi­ mensional theory. It is a fai rly straightforward matter to see how this vision of on�imensional society would appeal to the young radicals of the 1 960s . Because they felt excluded from society, they felt that their freedom was great l y constrained. What is not so immediately clear, however, is why such a theory of domination would inspire these alienated students to rebel against it. To see why, you must only remember that a theory is more than presuppositions, models, and empirical descriptions. It is also ideology. Marcuse not only tried to explain one-dimensional society, he also evaluated it. When he did so, he started from the Marxian premise that transcending the present order really was possible.

364

Critical

Themy of Herbert Afa rcuse

But as I suggested in my preceding lecture, this confidence in transcendence has not been easy for twentieth-century Marxists to susta i n . The commu nist revolutions in the East have been great

disappointments, and the promised revolutions in the capitalist West have simply failed to occur. Marcuse i s sensitive to these problems. I t would be fair to say that the difficulty o f revolution stands at the very center of his work . Indeed, M arcuse's theory of one-dimensional society seems de­ signed to serve a double purpose. A respon se to presuppositional

exigencies , it has an ideological function as w e l l . It explains why the M arxist messiah, the revolutionary proletariat which was sup­ posed to be empowered by the development of advanced capita l ism , has i n stead virtually disappeared. It is n ot that things are now so much better than expected. I t is rather that t h i n gs are so much

worse . They are so bad that

..

the subject which is alienated is

swallowed up by its alienated existence" (p. l l ) . C nder the impact of technological domination , Marcuse believes, " the laboring classes in the advanced areas of i ndustrial civi lization are undergoing a decisive transformation . " T h e mechanization of the labor process, he writes , " modifies the attitude and the status

of

the exploited."

Because work is less difficult and physically demeaning, workers do not fee l a s resentful and the prest i ge of the i r work rises . The

power of technology, moreover , ties the worker more closely in an objective sense to the process

of production.

For all these reasons,

Marcuse concludes that "the new tech nological work-world thus enforces a weaken ing of th e negative position of the working class:

the latter no longer appears to be t h e living contradiction to the estab lished society" (pp . 2 4 - 3 1 ) . W h i le Marcuse has used

a

different theory t o reach these con­

clusio n s , in themselves they are not different from those which most other twentieth-century Marxists have reached . I ndeed, i t is o nly after seeing that there are good reasons for the failure of revolution that M arxist theory enga ges what I earlier called the ideological dilemma. There are two possibilities. On the one hand , Marxist theorists can put off transcendence to some distant future, becoming "meliorists " w ho implicitly make their peace with the presen t day . On the other, they can take up a much more activist

stance and seek, through the assertion of 'IO]untary wil l , to overturn the meliorating tendencies which they themselves have described .

Critical

TheOI)' of Herbert Marcuse

365

One-Dimensional Man explores both these possi b i l i t i es . Remember,

though published in the beginning of the 1 960s rebellions it was composed during the period of extraordinary postwar calm. Mar­ cuse has described a tec h nological system of almost omniscient power. It is not surpr ising that his thin king about future possibilities is influenced by this fact. There is one strand of this work which takes up the resigned, a political pole of the ide ol o g ical dilemma. "On theoretical as well as empirical grounds," Marcuse laments, "the dialectical con cept [of critical theory] pronounces its own h opelessness." With the growth in the tec hnological conquest of nature, after all, there "grows the conquest of man by man," and this latter conquest "red u ces the freedom which is a necessary a priori of liberation. " I t is n ot possible for those subjected to tech­ nol ogical control w gai n any independent material force, and "without this mate rial force, even the most acute consciousness remains powerless . " More significantly, however, radical conscious­ ness has, at least for the masses of people, itself become virtually impossible: " The power a nd efficiency of this system, the thorough assimilation of mind wi t h fact, o f though t with required behavior , of aspirations w ith real i ty militate against the emergence of a new Subject. " Marcuse even goes s o far as to suggest that a th o rou g h goi n g democratization of the ec onomy-the actua l goal of Marxian com­ munism-would not be liberating. This notion is valid only where laborers are "the livin g denial and indictment of the established society. " I n the present situation , however , " their ascent to control would [only] prolong th is [ technological] way of life in a different setting. " This is a gloomy assessment . W h ile Marcuse insists that "dialectical theory is not refuted, " he acknowledges that "it cannot offer the remedy" (pp. 2 5 2-253). But if Marcuse had chosen only this side of the ideological dilemma, his theory would not have appealed to the New Left. Though he acknow led ges a certain despondency, he is fiercely critical of the left-wing movements who have adopted the meliorist stance . He scorns the "collusion and alliance between business and organized labor" in t h e U nited States, and he claims that "the British Labor Party, w h ose leaders compete with their Conservative counterparts in advan c i n g national interests, is hard put to save -

366

Critical

Theory of Herbe1·t .Ma rcuse

even a modest progra m of partial nationalization" of the means of production . I n West Germany, meanwhile , the Social Democratic Party "is convincingly proving its respectability . " Even among the

left parties which are explicitly communist, which have remained part of the Com munist I nternational founded by Lenin, reform and world acceptance are the primary goals . " As for the strong Communist par t i es in Fran ce and Italy , " :\.1arcuse writes, "they bear witness to the g e n eral trend of c ircumstances by a d h er ing to

a minimum program which she l v e s the revolutionary seizure of power and complies with t h e rules of the pa r li ament ary game" (pp.

2 0-2 1 ). The organized movements fo r left-wing reform must be rej ected because they are not left-wi n g enough . T hey lead toward greater i n teg ra t i o n with t h i s world, not the t r an scen d enc e of i t . But Marcuse

rec ogn i ze s that the relative con10ervatism of crit ical movements is not

an

accident . I t reflects the feeli n gs and hopes of the masses

of o ppressed peop l e He does not shrink from the logical conclusio n : .

if transcendence i s to be obtained , t h e majority's fe el i n g s a n d hopes

must be disregarded . "The fac t that the vast

m aj o r i

ty of the

population accepts . . . th is society does not render it less irrational and less reprehensible ," he insists (p. xiii) . Though Marx was as com mitted to transcendence as Marcuse, his theory of capi talism al lowed h im to tie its transformation to

the expressed dissatisfactions of the majority of it1> people. The working class would experience

c ap ita li s m

'

s contradictions them­

selves, and they would rise up against them to build a new system. Marcuse is aware that quite the opp o s i te has o c cu r re d , and he has

built his theory of the one-dimensional society to account for it. The key to seeing through the contentmem of the m ajority is to distinguish between true and false needs. Technological domination has brainwashed the population so that it needs only what can be pro v i ded and feels no need for what human beings should actually

desire. The m ajority , even the left-wi n g maj ority, is contented only because it has been provided with a sense of fal se needs . We may distinguish both true and false needs . " False" are

those which are superi mposed upon the individual by partie-

Critical Theory

of Herbert lvla rcuse

367

ula r social interests in his repression : the needs which per­ petu ate toil , aggressiveness , m i sery, and i njustice . Their sat­ isfac tion m ig h t be most gratify i ng

to the

individu a l , but this

happiness is not a condition which has to be mainta i n e d and protected if it serves to arrest the development of the ability (h is own a nd ot hers) to recogn i ze the disease of the whole and grasp t he c hances of curing the di sease.

(pp . 4-5)

Th i s solution to t h e reform ism of the time seems at first glance legitimate . If the m ajority's experience of contentment is corrupt and manipulate d , th ere remain justifiable grounds for rebellion and, one hopes, so cial transformatio n . If more, however,

I

you

think about it a little

think you w i l l agree with me

t h at

M arcuse's

distin ction between true and false needs raises more questions than it resolves. The problem , i n a nutshell , comes down to this: where

will the standard of true needs come from? Marx e mployed a standard of judgm ent which was there for all to see . He though t you would simply have

to

look at t h e feelings and actions of the

peopl e involved. B ut where w i l l

Marcuse get h is

standa rd o f critical

j udgment? The source of this standard is absolutely critica l , o f course , for i t establish es not o n l y t h e grounds for critique b u t the conditions w h i ch

define transcendence for the particular social

system . The danger is that M arcuse can establish the critical standard

in on ly a highly s u bjecti ve way , that it will be the revolutionary theorist h i m self who dec ides what people truly need .

M arcuse

explicitly rejects t h is possibility. " What tribunal , " he asks rhetor­

ically , "can possibly claim the authority of decision?" He answers that "no tribuna l can j ustly arrogate to itself

the

right to decide

which needs should be developed and satisfied . " H e concludes that

"any such tribunal i s reprehensible." But in the very same sentence he adds that, non etheless , "our revu l sion does not do away with the question : how can the people who have been the object of effective and productive domination by themselves create the con­ ditions of freedom "

(p. 6)?

In truth , M arcuse cannot escape embracing the tribunal h e knows is wro ng. Rejecting the judgments of the masses of peopl e , his only alternative is th e j udgments of particular individuals. These indi-

368

ThemJ of Herbert i\1a rcuse

Critical

vidual s,

not surprisingly, ar e

judgments

of critical

l ike himse lf, and

intellectuals

standard they employ is critical t h e o r y

.

the

Marcuse insists that the

theory have "objective validity . " The historical

possibil ities which are avai lable to any giv e n society are real, and

the social structure which exists must simply be measured against them. He makes such comparisons o n the

very

first page of h is

book , t hough he never returns to them again . Present-day society is i rrational,

he

writes, because in it " production destroys the free

development of human needs and faculties , " because peace is "main­ tai ned by the constant t hreat of war," sexuality represent

only

because happiness and

" repressive desublimatio n " (pp. ix-x i ) . But

these j udgments a re, in fac t , highly personal and subj ective one s . Could

there ever be a

society without demands for work? I f there

could n ot be, can "free development " be defined in such radical opposition to social

co n tro l ? O n

what grou nds can sexual desub­

limation be called repressive? I f it does not

tures, then

challenge

social struc­

might it not be equally valid t o suggest that it i s the

structures themselves

which

are not repressive rather than

the

sexua l ity wh ich is? Fina l l y , on what grounds does the maintenance of peace through the th reat of war consti tute an indictment of

technological civilization per se? Has this situation not been frequent throughout the hi story of human societies , and i f it has been how can it pr ov ide the histori cally specific grou nds for criticizing this o ne? Marcuse would undoubtedly reply that my own rea son i n g here

a liberal , this-worldly way. l would not deny this charge , would deny that this bias undermines the possibility for criticism and sign ificant reform . But this u nderlines my more

is b iased in though l social

general point: critical j udgments are rather personal things . T h i s is unavoidable . What is dan gerous is wh e n t h i s subjectivity i s c am­ ouflaged , and when the judgments so arrived at are recommended as bases

for

mass, revolutionary activity . Th i s leads to authoritar­

ianism and elitism , to the denial of the

very

ideals which the l e ft

has a lways stood for against the rig h t .

We have seen earlier t h a t Marcuse rejects democratic, partici­ patory reform . The problem is that, because they have introjected civilization, these

reformers

might not know good

needs

from bad .

Critical Theory of Herbert Marcuse

369

His conclusion follows logically : only by standing ouside society can a valid standard of jud gment be attained. This leads back to intellectuals themselves. I t is why Marcuse has written his book. The alie nated intellectu al sta nds outside society, and he is in touch with the tradition of crit ical theory which makes social understand­ ing possible. Alone, however, intellectuals are not enough . They must find some social force to ally with, a group that has not yet been civilized. Marcuse searc hes, therefore, for groups which "exist .outside the democratic process. " He finds them in "the substratum of the outcasts and ou tside rs" which forms the fringe of every society. T hey are radica l because they are completely unsocialized. Because they do not kn ow democratic procedures, they constitute "an elementary force wh ich violates the rules of t he game and, in doing so , reveals it as a rigged game" (pp. 256-2 5 7). Marcuse is caught insid e th e ideological dilemma. N o matter what the social circu mstances, M arxist theory is bound to alternate be­ tween uncomfortable re formism and radical transcendence. On the one hand, because it is a reforming social movement, Marxism will be inclined t o conditionally accept the world as it is. Because it is also a secular religion, however, it will feel compelled to reject world acceptance and to i nsist on salvation no matter what the consequences . In the 1 960s Marcuse' s radical solution to the dilemma seemed appropriate, and it inspired not onl>· the social movements but the theorizing of the New Left. As the I 960s turned into the 1 970s, however, the familiar frustra tions of the transcendent position once again reappeared . First and most important, of course, was that there had been no revolut io n . Instead, backlash movements de­ veloped against the young revolutionaries, movements whose goal was to transform society in a right-wing, rigid and authoritarian way. The frustrations of re volution, moreover, had consequences for left-win g groups them se l ves. They became more in-turned and less interested in making al liances. As their hopes were dashed, they, too, beca me rigid in t heir denunciations and more extreme and violent in their m eth ods. If outcasts are revolutionaries, rev­ olution can become a frightening mockery of itself.

370

Critical

Theory of Herbert A1arwse

In respons e to the failures of New Left Marxism , two new and powerful theoretical traditions evolved

in

the

inspired by the a lready estab l ished work of the

1 9 7 0s.6 One was

French "structural"

M a rx ist , Louis Althusser. The other was a new form of critical

m em be r of the Frankfurt S chool , J ii r gen Habermas. Both theories, each in their own way , returned to fundamental elements of Parsonian work . This is not so surprising as it may see m . I t was the radical reaction against l ib e ra l theorizing which led N ew Left M arxism not only into the search for tran­ scendence but to the eventual denial of volunta ristic soci a l order itself. Only if e le m e n ts of liberal theory were re-incorporated, its successors m i g h t reason , could the dangerous dichotomies of that earlier Marxism be avoided. Parsonian theory, of course, remained the premier l i beral theory of the day . Although Althusser ac tu a l ly began composin g h is t heory much earlier, his " struc t ur a l Marxism .. only ac h ie v ed widespread popu­ larity as the 1 960s waned and the 1 970s b e ga n . Structural Marxism developed a m o re supple and nuanced model of the capitalist system than the M arcusean version . It made a point of th e relative au­ tonomy of pol i t i c a l and culture subsystems, arguing that there ha d , indeed , been the kind of internal d i fferentiation w hich Parsons had

theory , led by a younger

described . T h is complex understanding of causality led to the notion that the

major contradictions i n capi talism m ust be "overdeter­ m ined," that is, they must be the r e s ul t of overlapping strains in different subsystems of the capitalist whole . This theoretical sub­ tlety , moreover, was com bi n e d w i th a m uch more evoluti on a ry view of how so c i a l systems change. T here would be changes and dis­ ba la nce s, but rarely uph e a v a l s shaking the foundations from th e bottom up.7 6 I should emphasize

"new''

a n d "t h eoretical ," for there w a s certainly anothe r

form of Marxism wh ich developed in the aftermath of 1\ew Left theory and p ractic e . This is w h a t might be called em p i ricist \1arxism . These M arxian sociolo g ists focus

on what they take to be cle a r l y delineated research probl ems. In general, however , this empirical work occurs within an orthodox framework which tends to ignore the most important revisions of Marxist theory . It becomes, in this way , merely another form of co nfl ict theory, one with an evolutionary and economic thrust.

Yet, while these empirical Ma ;xists eschew the problematic� of " grand th eory ," they can h ardly escape from theoret ical logic itself. I believe that their wor k , too, is beset bv the s t rains of the dilemmas I ha ,, e described.

7 See, f�r example , Lou i s Allh usser, For Marx (London: New Left Books, 1 969) and Louis Althusser and Etienne Baliba r , Reading Capital (Londo n : :t\ ew Left Books, 1 9 7 0).

Critical

By the

Theory of Herbn·t Marcuse

37 1

en d of 1 9 7 0 s , however, the structural ist a l ternative had

worn thin. Alth usser's rendering o f Parsonian multidimensionality was not entirely satisfactory. The reason was that, because Marxism was never given up, the myth of the last instance was i nvariably invoked. This led to a curious kind of theoretical indeterm inacy, a sense that A l t h usseria n Marxism could n e ver be precisely pinned dow n . Still, it w a s not so much the explanatory but the ideological aspects of structural theory which was to blame for its declin i n g popularity . Structura lism h a d sent radicals back to study Parsonian theory, and various k i n ds of Marx-Parsons syntheses have i n the meantime been produced . The proble m was more that structuralist ideology was simply too conservati ve .

The familiar dia lectic of

Marxist ideology was sti l l i n play. Reacti n g against transcendence , a reformism was instituted wh ich w a s often so anti-transcendent that i t protested a ga i n st efforts at radical change. Althusser was himself a member of t h e French Com m u n ist Party, and h i s theory was often associa ted w i t h t h e anti-revolu t i o nar y ambitio n s of the Commun ist I n ternationa l . New Left M a r x i s m had been rejected , but at least for W estern i n tellectuals Commun ist \t arxism was not about to take its place . The new versio n of critical theory w h i c h Habermas proposed has avoided these difficulties with more success . H abermas, too , reacted against t h e ideological excesses of t h e 1 9 60s. He condemned New Left students for authoritarianism a nd argued that the search

for alternatives m u s t never end a ng er democracy . Habermas rejected Marcuse 's rejection o f liberalism . He argued that radical alternati ves would have to bu i l d on the accompl ishments of liberal society . The liberal recognition of individual rights , a n d its encouragement of rationality , Habe r m a s viewed not as false slogans but as real em­

bodiments of a progressive society . For H abermas , therefore, the search for a crit i c a l sta n dard of j udgment did not provoke n i h i l i stic despair . These standards , he reasoned, could be found within the ideals which libe ral soc iety , and liberal social movements, set for themselves. s Habermas has a l so been much more successful than M arcuse i n

maintaining a voluntaristic and m u ltid i mensional explanatory ap8

Jiirgen

Habermas, TowardJ.

a

Rational Society

(Boston:

Beacon Press ,

197 0) .

372

Critical

Theory' of Herbert Afarcuse

proach. Indeed, his model of contemporary society resembles in many respects the conflictual , pluralistic model which Marcuse reserved for capitalism in its earlier state. Habermas tries to build interpretive action into his theorizing about rationality, and he tries to link actors ' efforts to realize their ideals to the operation of society's subsystems themselves . The fact that such emphases push questions about subjective motivation, culture, and learning to the forefront of critical theory do not bother Habermas nearly as much. As his work has progressed, he has cared much less about maintaining the orthodox Marxist legacy, and for this reason he has felt much less compelled to evoke determinism in the last instance . In his later work, in fact, he has suggested that the basic strains of capitalism are rooted in experiences of psychological and moral development and that fundamental social change will be gained through a kind of social learning. 9 I do not think that Habermas entirely succeeds in this reworking of the critical map. One can still find in his work strong residual loyalty to the Marxist tradition, and this commitment sometimes leads him to invoke "capitalism " in instrumental and coercive ways. This latent ambivalence makes it hard for him to make his mul­ tidimensional theory specific , for fea r of embracing too openly not only liberal ideology but also liberal (and Parsonian) theory . These commmitments, and his effort to supplant Parsons as the most significant social theorist of the day, have led him to engage in serious distortions of Parsons' work . This straw man, in turn , has made it more difficult to build sociological theory in a truly mul­ tidimensional way. Still, if Habermas has not fully succeeded, his work points in the direction which every effort at critical theory must go. It also points to what every more explanatory theory must never forget, namely that any effort to explain society must also be an effort at moral self-reflection and, at least for those who are not completely satisfied with society as it is, a contribution to critical renewal as well. The histories of postwar Marxism and postwar sociological theory are curiously reversed. Sociology began from a multidimensional 9 Habermas, Legitimation Cri>i> ( Boston : Beacon Press, 1 9 7 5); Habermas, Com mu­ nication and the Evolution of SociJ"i) (Boston: Beacon Press, 1 979); Ha0ermas, The Thi!OT)' of Communica tit•e Action (Bosto n : Beacon Press, 1 984), vol. 1 .

Critical

Theo ry' of Herbert Ma rcuse

373

theory and in the course of its a ntagonism to Parsons created tendencies which went off in various one-d i mensional directions. Marxi s m , by contrast, started from one-dimensional theories and sought to reinvigorate m ultidimensional frameworks. Both efforts came to grief because o f exaggerated responses to their points of origins. Contemporary sociological theory has failed because of a n exaggerated antagonism, postwar M arxism because o f too much loyalty . Postwar sociological theory often subordinated its better judgment in the effort to h ermetically seal itself off from Parsonian ideas. Postwar Marxism w i thdrew from the logic of its own con­ clusions i n the effort to maintain the distinctive ideas o f M a r x himself. The very real i n novations of both tradit i ons, in other words, have failed for the same reason: they h a ve not been able

to build upon a mu ltidimensional b a se. The path for both efforts, then, would seem to lead back to Parsons, or, to be more historically accurate, to the theoretical framework Parsons ambivalently soug h t t o build.

LECT U R E TW E N T Y

S O C I O L O G I C A L T H E O RY T O DAY

I

N

M Y O P E N I N G L E C T U R E I suggested to you that sociological theory, like the medieval kings of old, has "two bodies . " It is, on the one hand, abstract and transcendental , a timeless search for the fundaments of action and order in h uman societies. Yet this p u re dimension always takes on a second, historical fo r m We do not s i m ply stud y "theory , " but "theories" in a particular time and space. This stereophonic sense has guided me throughout these lectures. I have discussed intellectual movements in a particular time and place . At the same time, I have tried to make the universal relevance of these movements clear as wel l . You should continue to keep these two bodies of social t h e ory in mind today. In this last lecture, I will try to sew the differen t parts together as neatly as I can . When I look at my discussions in this course , I see that sometimes I have talked of "anti-Parson ian" movements and at other times about " post-Parsoni a n" theory . W i th both term s, of course , I have been referring to the sa m e movements-the developments in con­ flict theory , exchange theory , interactionism , ethnomethodology , hermeneutics, and Marxist theory which emerged in the period after Parsons' postwar hegemony . The first term , however, has been a way of characterizing these theoretical movements from the point of view of their e mergence in the 1 960s and 1 9 70s. The second term characterizes them from the perspective of the the­ oretical situation today. "A nti-Parsonian" see s Parsons still as very much an a c to r ; he is what the "anti " side is rebelling against . " Post-Parsonian " implies that Parsons has been superseded , at least i n historical terms if not in theoretical scope. "

.

, .

Sociological Theory Today

375

I am not p ar s in g words. What I am ge tt i n g at is that t h e theore t i c al st ru g g les I have des c ribed in th ese lectures occurred within a bounded pe r io d of t i m e . The story of Parsonian theory and the c ha ll e n ges which were mounted against it is a historical on e Historical stories have dates, and the dates of th is one are, very roughly , 1 940 to 1 9 80. S oc i o l og ic a l theory today is no l o n ge r enga ged in t h e effort to d et h r on e Parsons. It is post-Parsonian, no t anti . Why is the a n t i P a rsonia n movement over? The a n sw e r is very s i mp le : because it won . Parsons' t h eo ry was ambitious and in many ways profound. I t had , as well, fundamental sh o r tc o min g s which can be traced to dee p ambivalences on Parso n s ' part. Given the di fferent social , cultural, and intellectual climate which e m erg ed in the 1 960s , these s h o rtc om i n g s were bound to come out, and the am b ival e n ces made it i m p oss i b l e for Parsons-and, t h u s very dif­ ficult for his stu d e nts- t o alter his t h e o r y in any s i g n i ficant way . The c ha l len ge rs h ad p i c ke d on si gn i fica n t issues and the best among t h em ma d e a fo r m i da b le case . By 1 98 0 the battle was won . T h e challengers were no lo n ge r challengers: they had e s t a b l ish ed them­ s e l ves as major t raditi o ns in their own r i g h t I ndeed , by 1 98 0 these theorcnical movemen ts c o ns t i t u t ed the p r i n c ipa l forces in socio l og i c a l t heo r y . Es t r an ge d from two gen­ erations of theorists-the li b e ra l revisers and the M a rxists-func­ ti o n a list theory had undergone by th e late 1 9 7 0 s an almost total e cli pse . An Englishman report i n g on several bo o k s abou t Pa rso n s be g an his review with t h e qu e st i o n , " W h o now r e a d s Parsons?" This was a mocking echo of the qu e s t i on Parsons himself asked about Spencer fifty years ago when he began his famous attack on util­ i tar i a n theory in The Structu re of Social Action. " Who now reads Spe n c er? Parsons asked on the first page of that book, and what he meant by that was th at n obody did. Of course , peop l e do st i l l read Parsons. B ut that such a qu es t i on could, eve n rhetorically, be asked in d i c a t e s that an era has certain l y come to an end. In t h e last few years , it seems to me, a new phase o f soc io logica l theorizing h as begun. Now t ha t the dust h as settled, it has be com e inc rea si ngl y clear to many that Parsons' s ucce ss o r s failed to develop a sat is fact or y al terna t i ve t he ory themselves, and for prec i s e ly the same reasons that they succeeded in d ispl ac i n g Parsons' own influ.

-

,

.

"

376

Sociological Theo1�'' Today

ence: their theorizing had a highly polem ical bent . that, challenging Parsons' one-sidedness,

The

result

was their work evidences a

clear one-sidedness of its own . The

generation of theor ists which has succeeded the liberal

revisors and Marxists-the new "you n ger generation" in sociolog­ ical

theory-has been able to avoid t h is trap. Becaus e t h ey have environment i n which Parson s >imply does not matter as much , they are less inv ested in either side of the battle . For this reason , they have been able to get a l i tt le more perspective on t h e war itself. This new gen e r ati on of theorists have made efforts to close the dialectic , to provide a "third way " that takes the best of each side. Some pay a great deal of a tte n t ion to Parsons, others do not . Still , theirs is exactly the same course that long ago Parsons set for h i m self: to end the w a r r i ng schools" by developing a synthetic theory which incorporates the partial theories of the day. This new theorizing has unfolded in two forms: as systematic theorizing and as re in terpre t a ti o n of the classics . Both forms have , however, had the same ambition , and they have often been parts of the same theorist's work. The o v e r r idi ng systemati c , or analytic, issue has been to reintegrate subj ective v ol u n ta r i sm and objective constraint. Since for much of post-P arsonian theory subjectivity has been conceived in an individual istic way, it is not surprising that this newly synthetic effort has often been directed to constructing, or restoring, the link between " micro" and " macro . " Exchange , interactionism , and ethnomethodology have usually been charac­ terized as "micro" traditions because t hey are concerned with the microscopic focus on small, or individual units. Conflict theories, Marxism , and functionalism , by c o n t ra st , are conceived of as "ma­ cro" because they are concerned with units of larger s i ze, l ike institutions or whole societies. The effort to close the micro/macro gap is, t h e n , an e ffo rt to relate individual action and interaction to theori z i ng about social structure . When you recall that the individualistic challenges to Parsons, and t h e hermeneutic challenge as well, labeled h i m as a

grown up in an

"

structuralist i nsensitive to action a n d subjectivity, and that conflict and Marxist cri tiques saw h i m as too subjectiv ist in turn , you can see how this recent i n s i s te n c e on

linking act ion and structure ,

Sociological Theor)' Toda�y

377

subjectivity and obj ectivity, marks a n effort to supersede the terms of the earlier debate. It is also, of course, an effort that directly echoes the earlier ambition of Parsons h i m self. In 1 9 8 1 , a significant volume appeared which made t h i s ambi tion explicit. I t was orga n i zed by ethnomethodologists and i ncluded essays by Marxists and functionalists, a n d its ai m was to find a way of bridging the micro-macro divide . 1 The most i mporta n t and widely discus sed reinterpretation of the pragmatist tradition in recent years has exactly the same intention . 2 Its authors argue that pragmatic theory was not so purely individualist in i n tent as Parsons' chal­ lengers assumed but was, in fact, internally di vided and actually contained a strong collectivist dimension . Because the modern in­ teractionist tradition w h ich emerged from Blumer has ignored the collectivist stra n d , they suggest that it must be rejected . They see a closer connection , in fact, between collectivist pragmatism and the purportedly antagonistic traditions of Durkheim a n d Parsons. An important German reconsideration of Mead makes a similar point, argui n g that M ead

is

hardly the individua list that contem­

porary interactionism portrays and suggesting that a syn thesis be­ tween Mead a n d neo-M arxist theory can be establ ished . ' The same k i n d of synthesizing m oveme n t can b e d i scerned in recent developments from the other, structuralist side o f the great divide . The most signi ficant younger p roponent of conflict theory, Randall Co l l i n s , be ga n i n the late 1 9 60s as a sharp critic of cul­ turalist, vol u n taristic, a n d Parsonian theories. I n recent years, how­ ever, this clea n-cut an togonsim has begun to blur. Col l i n s has made a

concerted effort to l i n k structura l t h eory to ethnomethodological,

Freudian , and Durkheimian idea s , and he has even begun to ac­ knowledge the pivotal effort that Parsons made in the same di­ rection . I n h i s most recent book , Three

Sociological Traditions,

Collins

suggests that t here should be a new synthesis between the conflict, Durkheimia n , and microinteractionist traditons, so that "the weak1 Ka r e n Knorr-Cetina and Aaron Cicou rel , eds. , Adt•ance5 in Social Theory and Methodology: Tou•a rds an In tegration of Micro- and Macro-Sociology (London: Routledge

and Kegan Paul , 198 1 ). 2 J . David Lewis and Richard L. Smith American Sociology and Pragmatism (Ch icago : U n i versity of Chicago Press, 1 980). 5 Hans J oas , G. H. Mead: :1. Contemporar; Re-examination of Hi5 Thought (Lon d on : · Pol ity Press, 1985).

Sociological Theory Today

378

nesses of one set of idea s can be discarded, and its strong point! built up and integrated with the strong p oi n t s from elsewhere . ' · I n fact, h e believes that this i s already underway, and that "the future will show us even more of the f>ame." In a recent review of my own work, indeed, he has taken over the term "multidi­ mensional "-the term I use to define the standard set by Parsonian theory-as his own, arguing that a revised conflict t heorr can be more multidimensional than theory of any other type. 4 The career of Anthony Giddens , perhaps the leading younger English theorist , presents a similar contour. Giddens' first book , Capitalism and !'.1odern Social TheorJ, took an explicitly anti- Parsonian position on the classics, arguing, for example , that Durkheim was not interested in "order" but " change . " As so o n as this wor k was completed, however , he began to extricate h imself from the Par­ sons/anti-Parsons debate. He argued that the diMinction between conflict and order was fundamentally m i sconceived, and in a series of works that appeared in the 1 9 70s and early 1 98 0s he insisted that sociology reorient itself to the task of interlinking "agency" with " structure . " To accomplish this, Gidde n s , like Collins, has drawn increasingly on ethnomethodological and phenomenological work, and he has tried not only to link these to Marxist structural concerns but also to certain ki nds of cultuiral work.!> I have already referred , in the lecture preceding, to similar developments in the neo - M a rx i st theorizing of Jurgen Habermas . I n his earlier writings Habermas expounded :\1arxist critical theory . He tried to e laborate on the voluntaristic dimension of Marxism • For t h e new syn thetic l i n k , see Randall Col l i n s ··on the Microfoundations o f Macrosociology. " i\mprican Journal of Sociology ( 1 98 1 ) 86:984- l 0 1 4; for the reference to Parsons' pioneering work on the micro-macro link, see "The Durkheim Tradition in Conflict Sociology , " i n Jeffrey C. Alexander, ed., Du rkhri mia n Sociolog;.• (:\'ew York : Cam br idge U n i ,·ersity Press . 1 98i). The quotations are from Collins, Three Sociological Traditions (�ew York: Oxford U n iversity Pre�s. 1 985), p. 2 3 3 ; the ref­ e r e nce to multidimensional conflict theory can be found in Collins, "Jeffrey Alex­ ander and the Searc h for Multidimensional 'Theory ," Theor_) and Society ( F a l l 1 985) 1 4 : 8 7 i-89 2 . s G idd en s Capitalism a n d ,'.fodern Social Theory (London : Cambridge U niversity Press, 1 972); for the dismissal of the conflict/order distinction, see "Four Myths i n the H istory of Social Though t , " Economy and Somty ( 1 972), 1 : 3 5 7-385 : for the agency /structure link, �ee G i ddens, NrJ• Ru les of Sociological Method (New York : Basic Books, 1 9 76), and G i dde n s Central Problems in Social Theory (Berkeley and Los Angeles: U n iversity -of C a li fo r n i a Press, 1 979). ,

,

,

3 79

Sociologica l Theo ry TodaJ and seemed content to

defend

:\ll a rxism against itself. Though

recently he has acknowledged having been influenced by Parsons even at that point i n his career , scarcely a mention of Parsons appeared . As the 1 97 0 s progressed, h owever , H abermas' interest in subjectivity and m o t i vation became more serious and expl i c i t . Eventually he came t o reject completely t h e M a rxism versus soci­ ology divide and has tried to reinterpret the classics , and critical theory , to make them m o re accessible to one another. From Weber he draws a theory of rational moral i t y , from interactionism , phe­ nomenology , and Durkheim a theory of the i n tuitive , em otional , naturally democratic " l i feworld . " I n t h i s whole later development, moreover, Parsons has played an explicit and ce ntra l rol e . H e has provided a model-as well as a foil-for H abermas in his effort to conceptualize t h e relationship between structural system s and lifeworlds. s N eed I add that I see my own work as part of t h i s intellectual movement? I n a series of earlier efforts I wen t back to th e c l a ssics and tried t o develop the basis for a new , m ore syn thetic kind of collectivist theory . I n later essays I took up more directly the m i cro­ macro link, argu ing, for example, that the " i ndividual i st" traditions of both phenomen ology and interact i o n ism contain significant col­ lectivist strains and that these can be i ntegrated with the subjective dimensions of the col lectivist tradition . Most recen tly I have tried

to

work out a m ore systematic accou n t of the relation between

contingency and idea l

and material structures. T h o u gh

I

have

worked much more closely with the Parso n i a n tradition than the other theorists I h ave mentioned, m y i nterest in o vercoming the antagonism of the previous period, w h i le not in a n y way negating its accomplishments, i s , I believe quite simi lar to theirs . 7 5 See, part icu larl y , J ii rgen Habermas, Rmson a n d th� Rationalization ofSociety ( Boston : Beacon Press , 1 9 84), vol . I of Th�ory of Communicatit•e 1\ction. Steven Seidman's Liberalism and the Origin.< of Eu ropean Social Theory ( Berk e le y and Los An ge les : University of California P r e ss , 1 984) r epr ese n t s another powerful argument against the Marxism ve r s u s sociology divide which so i n sp ired the anti-Parsonian Marxism of the 1 960s and 1 970s. 7 For the rereadin g of the classics, see Jeffrey C. Alexander, Theoretical Logic in Sociology, 4 vol s . (Ber keley and Los Angeles: V niversity of California Press , 1 982-83); for the micro-macro concerns, see A lexander, "The Individualist Dilemma in Phe­ nomenology and l n teractionism : Towards a Convergence with the Classic Tradition," in S. S. Eisenstadt and H. J. Halle, eds. , Macrosociological Theory (Los Angeles and

380

Sociological Theory Toda_v

My goal in these lectures has been to develop an argument for

what Hegel would have called this "concrete negation" of postwar theorizing in both a systematic and historical way. I have done so, of course, through a process of interpretation. As you learned from the lectures on hermeneutics, however, to conduct an interpretation you must step into the hermeneutical circle first, that is, you must first have some interpretive standard in mind. The standard I developed in my first lectures was a frankly ecumenical one, derived from the spirit, and in part from the letter, of Parsons' earlier work. M ultidimensionality, I believe, is the only position which can explain the social world in a thorough , consistent, and satisfying way. It is also, I have tried to demonstrate, the only perspective from which the full variety of competing sociological theories can be fairly interpreted without shunting one or another of their partial interests aside. In theoretical interpretation, the prior com­ mitment which draws the hermeneutical circle is a theory itself. If my interpretations have been good ones, however, I have j ustified my initial theory in (relatively) more empirical and inductive ways. Though I started with a general and abstract multidimensional position , I have tried to specify the particular elements of a mul­ tidimensional theory through my interpretations of postwar work. My strategy has been to convert t h e concrete emphasis of each one-sided theory into analytic elements of a larger whole. Other paths are certainly possible. I hope, however, that I have convinced you that the interpretation and reinterpretation of past theories is one way tha t the new movement in sociological theorizing might proceed.

London: Sage Publications, 1 985). pp. 25- 5 7 ; Alexander and Bernhard Giesen, "The Long V iew of the Micro-Macro Lin k , " in Alexander, Bernhard Giesen , Richard :O.I iinch, and Neil J. Smelser, eds. , The .'Hicro-,'1-facro Link (Berkeley and Los Angeles: U ni\·ersity of California Press, 1 98 7) : and Alexander, "Action and its Em·ironments," in ibid; for m y argu ment for continuing a critically revised Parsonian tradition, see Alexander, ed. , Ntofut�clionalism (Beverly Hills and London : Sage, 1 98 5) ; see also in this regard, the recent work of Ric hard Munch .

I N D EX

Allocation: and legal system , 64 ;

Accounts, con cept of: in Garfinkel ,

26 1

Achievement v alues: and al loca t i o n

person nel , 54-55; and allocation rewards, 86

pr i m acy of, in Rex's theory , 1 34-35 ;

of of

relative i m portance in Parsons' theory, 90;

passim;

1 65 ; differentiation among levels , in Parsons, 40-5 1 ; and interpretation.

in Blumer, 2 1 7- 1 8 ; meaningful , as

296; and

subinstitut ional behav ior. in Humans, 1 64-6 5 ; three system s of: i n Geert z ,

3 05,

and interactions among,

Parsons, 39- 40

Action proble m : in Bentham ,

3 1 6,

in

1 59; in

critique of Parsons , 2 8 2 - 8 3 ; i n Dilthey, 2 8 7 ; in M arcuse,

36 1 -6 3 : in

Ma rx, 1 59; ra t i o na l it y , in Homam,

1 65

Adaptatio n, in interchange model. defined , 92

Ad hoeing. co n cept of: in Ga rfinkel, 26 3 , 269 Adolescence, a nd repression of emot io n , 6 7

Adorno, Theordor ,

35 1 ; sociology of, in postwar era , I I I Affirmative action , egal itarian v al ues 11s. eco nom i c constraints, 62 Affluent society , and inequality i n postwar era, 1 1 5 AGI L model , set I nterchange model Alexa nder, jeffrey, and macro/micro

synthesis, 3 79 Alienation: in modern society, in Marxism, 337; a s outcome o f educati on system ,

87

in

social systems,

53-63

also Facil ities, allocation

of; Person nel , allocation of;

Action: and co ntingency , in Humans,

text , in Ric oe u r,

see

Rewards, allocation of Althusser. Lou is, Marxist rapprochement with l i be ra l theory , 3 7 0-7 1 Americ a : and A merican political power ,

1 02- 7 ; as prototype of

moderni7a t ion , for Parsons. 7 4 - 8 8

passim

Analogy: and con s t i t u t ion of rea lity, in H u sser!,

246; in Garfinkel, 2 7 1 :

Geertz , 3 1 8

in

Anarchism , 33 3

Aro n . Raymond: and postwar

3 34-35; Weberian in pol itical soc iolo10· of,

l iberal i s m , elements

Ill

Artists, and dist rib u t i o n of rewards,

60

Ascription values, and allocation of personnel, 54-55 Atheletes,

and allocation of rewards,

60 Bakke decision, see Affirmative action Baran. Paul , Barber,

33 7

Bernard, 3 5 social system, in 208-9 ; as example of

Baseba l l : as analogy o f Mead,

hermeneutical circle, 297- 9 8

Bauer, Otto, a n d theoretical dilemma, 344, 345 Beard, Charles, 202

382

Index Cathexis, see Freud, con tribut ion to

Becker, Howard, 2 3 0n; and "labeli ng

Parsons' theory

theory," 22 8

Change theory. social: in Parsons,

Behaviorism, a n d Homam' exchan ge

75-88

theory, 1 57

passim;

in Rex; 1 36-39

Chicago, U niversity of, 3 4 , 1 9 5 ;

Bellah, Robert: intel lect ual relationsh ip

poMwar prominence of, i n sociology,

to Parsons, 3 0 7 - 8 ; and Parson s,

1 17

positions on culture compared,

Cicoure l , Aaron: critique of Parsons,

309- 1 0

2 76 ; and nonnative order, 267

Bentham, J eremy: attack on c lassical

Citi�enshi p , in modern society, in

economic theory , 1 57 , 1 5 9

Pa rsons , 7 7 - 7 8

Bergson , Henri, indi vidualism of, 24 1

Civil rights mo\'ement, and postwar

Berkeley , U n i versit y of Cali fornia a t ,

soci et y in America, 1 1 5

309

Class: and class dom i nat i o n , in Rex,

Biological model of functionalism , su

1 4 1 -4 3 ; and class conflict in postwar

Functionalism: and the myth of

society , 1 1 5 ; in Lenin,

functional ism in Rex

344; in Marx ,

3 38

Blau, Peter, exchange theory of, 1 92

Cold War, 1 1 4

Blumer , H erbert, 1 2 2 ; compared to

Coleman , James, exchange theory of,

H om ans , 2 1 6- 1 8 ; critique of

1 9 1 -92

functionalism, 227 ; elements of

Collect i,•e behavior, interactionist

2 1 8 - 1 9; and the individualist

Collectivism: and action problem , 1 3 ,

A merican ideolog y in theory of,

theor)' of, 2 28-29

1 5 : and c on str a i nt , i n Blumer,

dilem ma , 2 5 8 ; liberal rationality i n , 3 3 6 ; l og i cal tension i n theory of,

225-27 ; elements of: in Homans,

1 83 , in Husserl , 2 4 8 -50, in

2 2 3 -2 7 ; optimism of, 2 2 2 ; reaction

Garfinkel, 2 6 1 -6 2 , in Gollman ,

to functionalism, 2 1 5- 1 7 ;

2 3 3-34 , in M ead, 2 05 ; and

relationship to Mead, 205

Boundary relati on s , in in terchange

ge ne ra l i z ed other, in Mead, 206- 1 4

passim; in hermeneutics, 2 85-302 pas;im; and individual ac ti o n i n

model , 93-94 Bowl ing, as example of exchange of values, in Homans, 1 8 8

Garfinkel , Goffman, a n d Mead,

2 6 3 -67

theory, micro- and macrosociol ogical

25 5-56:

B reech i n g , concept of. in Garfin kel, Bureaucracy : rules of, and allocation

of

rewards, 55; and state in Germany ,

before World W a r I I , 69

Capitalism : and classical economic theory, 1 58 ; and gap between

rewards and a ll oc a t io n , 59-60 ; i n

Germany , before World War I I , 6 9 ;

and "identity o f interests ," 1 58-59; postwar, evaluated, in Marxism,

33 7-48 passim; and production, in Marcuse, 354-55; and "surplus

repressio n , " in Marcuse, 352; and

technology, in �arcuse, 359; theory of, in Parsons, 53-7 2

passim

in Parsons, 1 67-69, 3 3 1 ; in

forms, 33- 3 4 : see a l so Presuppo­ sit ions

Collins, Randall: conflict theory of, 1 5 3- 54: and macro/ micro synthesis,

377-78 Columbia IJni,·ersity,

34, 1 9 5; postwar

prominence of, in sociology, 1 1 7 Commons, John, 202 Communism : and "cult of action ," 3 4 2 ; impact on theory of Rex,

1 29-3 0; and reform movements, 3 4 2 ; i n Russia , response to utilitarian

dilemma, 2 7 ; th reat to modern

soc iety , in Parsons, 23

Con flict dilemma: defined, 1 4 7 - 4 8; in Rex, 1 5 1 -5 2 , 1 78

383

Index Con flia society, ' Rex ' s model of, 1 3 3-3 9 Conflict t heory ,

Cu ltural soc iology , 1 2 3

Culture: autonomy of, in Geertz, 3 2 4 ;

1 22 , 2 3 8 ;

a n d cultural critique of Parsons,

distingu ished from exchange theory,

1 7 9 ; early use of ter m , 1 27 ; and equilibriu m -conflict level of scientific cont' n uu m , 8

Congress, and allocation of rewards,

60

Consci ousness, and objective reali ty, m Husser) ,

intellec tual t hough t , 3 3 2- 3 7 passim

Contingency of action: and the

"cul:ural dope," i n Garfin kel , 27 4 ;

double, i n Parso n s , 1 6 8 ; i n Geer t z ,

passim;

in Homans,

i n hermeneutics,

165;

3 1 5;

and interpretation,

in hermeneutics , 299 ; and revision

of fu nctionalism , 1 70-7 I ; and struc:t ure, i n language , i n Ricouer,

29 5-96;

and time, in M ead , 209

Con tinuum of scien t i fi c thought: and the critique of Parson ' s social theory, leve l ,

8;

1 1 9; equi l i br i u m -conflict ideological level, 7; levels

of, and decisiven ess for sociologica l traditio ns, 7-9; methodological l eve l ,

8 ; model leve l , 8 ; presupposition level,

1 0; and reduct ionism , 9

Con tract : con cept of, i n classical economic theor}'•

1 57 ;

noncontract ual elements of, and exchange theory, 1 9 3 Conve rsa t ion : analpis of, i n eth nomethodology, 2 7 9 ; a nd conflict theorv , 1 5 5

Coser ,

Lewis:

con fl ict t h eorv of,

1 52 -5 3 ; critique of fu nctional ism,

1 27 -28; normati••e elements in 153

theory of,

Coun te � culture , i n fl uence o n Be llah,

!'.09

Critica: theory: and ideological level of sciemific continuum ,

7 ; and t he 1\ew

Left, 3 5 1 ; and "positive t heory"

compared, in Marcuse, 3 5 2

Croly , Herbert, 202 Cultural dope , concept of, i n Ga rfinkel,

274

hermeneutics,

3 1 1 ; and c ultural

method, in herm eneutics, 29 1 ;

dimensions of, and language, 1 42 ;

a n d distribution o f rewards, 60-6 2 ;

a n d interpretation , in hermeneutics, 2 9 8 ; pol itical , inte grative func tion of, 1 06 ; as residual category , in post­

244 -46

Conservati•·e ideology, in Western

3 1 9-29

30 3-06; and "culrura l ism , " in

Parso n ia n theory ,

284-85; and soc ial

7 passim;

structural

i n tegration , 59- 2

elements of, in hermeneutics,

288-89 , 298, 3 1 2 ; study o f, and the 2 86; as

physical sciences, i n D i l t h e y ,

tex t , i n hermeneutics, 294-97 Culture sy ste m : compared to soc ial ' system . i n Bellah , 3 1 0; and i n tegration of act ion systems , 4 3 ;

a n d "objective mind" i n Geert z a n d Dilthey,

290-9 1 ; i n Parsons, 40; a n d 306-7 : see

symbol systems, i n Geert z ,

,;l.•o

Acti � n . differentiation among

levels

Da h re n dorf, Ralph: conflict theory of,

1 52-5 3 ; critique of fu nct ionalism , 1 2 7-2 8 ; n ormative elements in

t h eory of,

1 53

D a r w i n i sm : elements of, in Bl ume r ,

2 1 8 ; a n d individualism i n A merican

cu l t u re , I 99 : i n Pragma t i s m ,

203

Depressi o n , econom ic, and i n fl uence o n H o mans, 1 6 0 D e t e r m i n i s m : in hermeneutics, 3 1 2 ; in M a rcuse,

3 58-69 passim;

in Marxism,

3 3 8 ; i n Rex , 1 3 3 , 1 3 4 - 3 !':1 , 1 !':1 1 ; in "Soviet M arx ism , " 347 ; i n "Soviet M arxism , " i n M arcuse, 3 5 2

Deviance: and con fl ict theory , 1 54 - !':1 5 ; consequences to social system of, 4 9 ; institutional ization of, in \\'estern

so c ie t y, 67-68;

" labeling theory",

2 28 ; in Parsons , 48,

1 6 8 ; and peer 85 Dewey, J o h n , 202-4 D i fferentiation : and conflict theory, group pressure,

1 5 2 ; and social change theory, in

Index

3 84 Differentiation : (Continued)

Parsons, 7 6-7 7 ; social , a n d peer groups, 84

Dilemmas in social t heory , defined: conflict, 1 4 7-48; i deolo gical ,

3 39-4 2 ;

individualist, 1 7 9-80; i n terpr e t i ve ,

3 1 5-29

passim;

passim;

M arxist, 3 5 8-6 9

theoretical, 342-5 3 ;

utilitarian, 26-28

i n t erchange model , 97-98; i n

postwar West, and M a rcuse's social

3!'16 ; and truce situation , in

theory,

Rex, 1 48-49

Ethnomet hodology, 1 22 ; compared to sociology , in Garfinkel, 27 1-72;

cri tiqu e of functionalism, 273-77;

and in teractionism, 2 4 0 ; lim ita ti o n s of its functionalism critique, 2 76-7 7 ;

Dilthey, Wilhelm, 1 2 3

social context o f theory, 272

D istributive j ust i ce , 1 8 7-88 ; in

Eurocommunism, 342; e\·aluation of, in

D ouglas, Jack, 304

Exchange : constraint aspects of,

Homans, 1 66-67

Dra matu rgy, in Goffm an , 2 3 2

Durkhei m , Emile, 1 20 , 2 4 1 ; elements of, i n Golfman ,

234; as focus of

c lassica l revival in Par50nian cr it ique , 1 1 9 ; t h e ory as embodiment of

presuppositional possibilit ies, 1 7 ; v ol un tarism in theory of, 2 8

Dyad: and coordination o f i n teraction,

47; in H omans , 1 79; in Parsom, 1 68

Econo my , and

bou n dary

interchanges,

i n Parsons, 95

Education: and allocation of person nel,

54;

grades, and al l oca t i o n of

rewards, 86; and soc ial integration, 57-58; tracking i n , and egali tarian

values, 62 ; as tra ining for impe rson a l work re l ati onsh i ps , 6 7 ; as v alue

internalization, 82-84

Ekeh , Peter, c r i t i q u e of Homa n s ,

1 9 2 -9 3

Electoral rules , and social equilibri u m,

57

Ely, R i chard, 202 Emerso n , Ralph Waldo , 1 98 Em pathy , in hermeneutics, 294 Engels, Frederick, and theoretical dilemma,

!'>44

En l i ght e n ment , German react ion against, 28 5

Entrepreneurs, and taxation, 6 1 Equilibri u m : a nd classi cal e c o nomic

theory, 1 58 ; concept of, in Parsons ,

46-47 ; and confl ict in P ra gmatis m, 2 0 1 - 2 ; and integration of society, i n Parsons, 56-7 1 passim; and

M a rc use , 366

1 8 1 -8 2 ; economic, and classical

economic theory, 1 5 7-59:

ne gotiati on of, in Homam,

1 66-67 :

under conditions of monop ol y ,

1 8 1 -82; use of concept by

theoretical t ra d i tio n s , 1 9 3-94 Exc h a n ge theory : on action problem ,

1 6 7 ; challenge to fu n ct io n a li s m , 1 2 2 ,

239; and commonsense , 1 57 : and

co ncep t of value, 1 7 7-78;

distin guished from conflict t h e ory ,

I 7 9 ; limitations of approach , 1 9 1 ; on

order problem, 1 67 -68 ;

relations hip

and

to functi on alism,

1 69-70

Existentialism , and sense o f insecurity

in postwar era, 1 1 6 Faci l i ties, al location of, 5 3-54 Family, and voting solida r i ty , 1 04 Farm ers, in Germany before World War

I I , 70 333

Fascism ,

Formal ism , American in tellectual

rejection of, 200- 1 Frankfurt School, 3 3 7 , 3 5 1

Freedom, value of, and social ization,

84

Free will, in Parsons, 1 6 8 French Revolution, and social system st rai n , 4 1 Freud, Sigm und, 1 20; co n trib uti on to Homans, 1 84 ; contribu t ion to Parsons,

37-39; elements of in

Cose r , 1 52 ; and internali zation, in

Marcuse, 36 1 -62 ; i n M arcuse , 3 !'1 2 ;

385

Index

Giddens, A n thon y , and macro/m i cro

theory as embodiment of presuppositional possibi l ities, 1 8 Fried man , M i lton, and Reaganomics, 4 F unctionali>m : elements of, in Rex, 1 49 ; Homans' critique of, 1 63-64 : a nd model level of scientific

continuu m , 8 ; and the myth of fu nctionalism , in Rex, 1 3 1 ; rev ision of, in light of Homans, 1 70-7 1 ; role of meaning i n , in Blumer's critique of Parsons, 2 1 i

synthesis,

378

Goal-attainment, in interchange model, defined , 92 Coffman , Erv ing: ambiguity of t heory at presuppositional level, 2 3 6 - 3 7 : compared t o Garfinke l , 269 ; o n cu ltural constraint: and "fronts,"

2 34-3 5 , and " props : " 234- 3 5 ; empirical adequacy o f theory, 2 3 3 ; ideological elements i n theory of,

Ga mes: and the genera l i zed other, in

2 3 3 ; and the individualist d i lem m a , 258; imeractionist t h e o ry of, 2 30-3 7 ; liberal rational ity i n , 3 3 7

Mead, 20 7-8; and normat ive order, i n Ga rfinkel, 2 5 3

Goode, W i l l ia m , and exchange t h eory

about order problem , 2 59-6 1 ; a nd

Gouldner, A lvin, exchange theory

Ga rfinke l , Harold, 240 ; ambigu ity a nti-Parsonian movemen t , 2 5 7 ; compared t o Coffm a n ,

2 69 ;

ideological elements in theory of. . 280; infl uence of Sc hutz and Parsons o n , 252; liberal rationality in, 3 3 6 : and presupposit ional break s, 1 5 Geenz, Clifford , 305-7 ; ambiguity on a utonomy of c u lture syste m , 322-29

Passim;

ambiguity of contingency and d eter minis m , 3 1 9-29 passim; i n t ellectual relation sh i p to Parson s. 3 0 7- 8 : l i beral rational itv in, 336; multid imensionality of

�arly

theory,

of prest ige, 1 9 3 crit ique of functiona lism, 1 92 Gramsc i , A n tonio, and theoretical dilem m a , 344 - 4 5 Gurvitc h , George , phenome nological sociology of, in post w ar era, I I I

Gusfield, J oseph , 230

Habermas, J u rge n : a n d macro/m icro synthesis,

3 78-7 9 ; 1\-la rxist

rapproachment with l iberal t heory ,

3 7 0 , 37 1 -72 H alevy , Elie, 1 5 8

3 1 6- 1 7 ; and presuppositional breaks,

Harvard U nivers i t y , 3 4 , 1 9 5 , 3 0 9 ; postwa r promi nence of, i n sociology,

3 2 5-26

Hegel, Frederick , 1 20 ,

1 5 ; reaction to Parso n s , 3 1 7 - 1 8 ; va gueness of account of cu lture ,

Gen der: as criterion for personnel a ll ocation , 58 : see also Roles, gender Gene ralized media of exchange ,

99- 1 00 ; in interchange mode l ,

9 8- l ! 0

9 9- 1 0 0

passim;

symbol of, defined,

1 17

1 2 1 , 200, 2 0 1 ; 1 30; Mar x i a n interpretations of, 3 4 7

and concept formation ,

H ermeneutics: and critique o f Parson s ,

3 1 1 ; defined, 2 89 ; an d German idealism , 2 8 5 ; and hermeneutical circle: defined, 297 , example of,

Generali zed other, in Mead, 2 0 7 - 8 Gen ovese, Eugene, a n d t h e New Left,

2 97 -9 8 ; rela t ion of theory to method, 29 1 -9 2 ; relationshi p to

Germa ny: allocation problems of, before World War I I , 6 9 - 7 2 ; pre­

in,

35 1

Nazi, and distribution of power , 1 07 ; an d react ion t o individualism and

rationalism , 285 Gestures and meaning, in Mead, 206-7

Parsons, 303-6 ; residual categories

3 1 4 -2 9

passim;

tendency for ideal

reductionism in, 3 1 3

Holmes, Ol iver Wendel l , 202 Homans, George: ad h oc argument in theory

of,

1 78 ; compared to Blume r,

2 1 6- 1 8; critique o f Parsons, 1 63-65;

Index

386 Homans, George: (Continued)

I ndividualism: and Blumer's critique of Parsons, 2 1 6- 1 7 ; and classical liberal

empirical basis of theory, 1 7 3 ;

ideological elements i n , 1 8 1 ; and

theory , 22- 2 3 ; and community, 336:

individualism in critique of Parsons ,

2 8 2 ; individuali st dilemma, 1 79-80, 258; liberal rationality in, 337;

limitations of theory, 1 86; m emory and action in the theory of, 1 75 ; residual categories in theory of, 1 7 6 ,

1 8 0 ; and subjective aspect o f value, 1 84; time-frame of exchange theory . 1 86; and u topian elements of

in Parsons, 334; culture of, and

distribution of rewards , 60-6 1 ; and

disorder in Western societies, 65;

empirical and presuppositional, in

ethnomethodology, 2 4 0-4 1 ; and freedom , 1 3; i n Garfinkel, 260 ,

2 7 1 - 7 4 ; i n Goffman , 2 33-37 passim;

as ideology in American culture, 1 97-200 : inst itutionalized, 8 2 ; in

modern society, in Parsons, 79-80;

exchange theory , 1 82 Hork.heimer, Max, 35 1 ; sociology of, in postwar era, I l l Husser!, Edmund, 1 20-2 1 ; and the

Parsons' challenge of, 44;

presupposition le,•el v . empirical level , 1 0 5-206 : i n Hu�>Serl, 247-50; and randomness of ends of actio n ,

individualist dilemma, 258;

25-26 ; rel i gi ous , a n d commu n i ty,

intellectual context of his theory ,

1 98-99: and subjectiv i t y , in Dewey,

24 1 ; presuppositional claims of

204; in symbolic interactionism, 1 96 ;

theory, 247-50

su

also Presuppositions

I ndividualist dilemma, 1 8 7 , 2 5 8 ; in

I and me: as contingency and

Blumer, 22:'.-2 5 ; defined, 1 7 9 -80; in

constraint, 2 1 2 ; in Mead, 209- 1 0

Garfi n kel , 2 7 9-80 ; in Homans,

I dealism : i n Blumer, 2 I 7 , 2 2 2 ; and collective meaning, in Dilthe)'• 2 8 8 ; collective, in hermeneutics, 3 1 2 ;

I 7 9-80 : in Mead, 2 1 0 ; in \\' ilson's

ethnomethodology . 2 7 5 I ndonesia, polit ical ideology i n , in

German, 1 2 3

I dealization, concept of, i n Goffman,

235

Geertz. 322-23 I ndustrial relat ions, Blumer's analysis

of, 2 2 1 -2 2

Ideological dilem ma: in Marxism,

3 39-42; and meliorism, in �larcuse,

I nfluence, as medium o r exc hange, 1 00

3 65-66

I nstincts, see U t ilitarianism and

Parsons, in Geert z, 3 1 7 - 1 8; and

I nstitutionali zation: and

Ideology: concept in Marx and

utilitarian dilemma

critical judgement, in Marcuse, 368; in Marxism , 332; and

presuppositions i n social theory, compared, 330-3 2 ; three strains

in Western intellectual t hought,

complementarity o f expectations, 47; and contingency, 50-5 1

of,

332-37 I dle rich : and allocation of prestige, 6 1 ; and allocation of rewards, 60 Incl usio n: and power, Parsons contrasted to Rex, 1 38 ; and social c hange, in Parsons, 7 8

I ndex, 2 7 2 ; in Garfinkel , 26 1 ; of

Institutions: 2 1 2- 1 4 ;

as

part or self, in Mead,

ste also

Differentiation of

institutions; Individualism, i nstitutionalized

I n strumental acti vism , as basic American value , in Parsons, 79

I ntegration: and coordination of allocation, 57-58; and effectiveness

or allocation process, 56-57 ; normative, in Rex, 1 50; i n

objective world , experience as, in

interchange model , defined, 92-93 ;

Husserl , 246

and langu age, in Rex , 1 4 2; relative

Index i mportan ce i n Parsons' theory , 9 0 ; in Rex's t heor y , 1 3!>-39; i n soc i a l systrms, !>3 , 56-7 1 paHim; soci al ,

and contingency, in Garfi nke l , 2 5 5

I n tellectuals, a s arbiters o f "true needs ," i n Marcuse, 3 6 7 - 69

I n teractionism , 1 22; challe n g e to

387

Laissez- fa ire capital i s m , set

I ndividualism , a n d classical l iberal theory

La n gu age : and i n te g r ati on , in Rex ,

1 42; and sym bo l i zation, in M ead ,

206; written and spo k e n , compared,

in R icoeur, 295-96

functional ism , 1 96, four traditions

Latency, in i n t e rcha n ge mode l , see

thought , 229; roots of, in A m erica n

Law : a nd distribution o f rewards, 6 0 ; and i n tegration and a l l oca t ion , 6 1 La wyers , and social control in German y , before W o r ld War I I , 7 1 Le adersh i p : po l it ic a l , and bou n d a ry interchange , I 0 2 ; and re v ol uti on , in

of, 227-3 7 ; a n d I owa school of i ntellectual h i story, 1 96-97

Interchan ge mod e l : and c e n t ral i t y of rew ard allocation, 1 67 ; of P a rso ns , 92- 1 1 0 pa.<Sim I n te rest , natural ide n tit y of, 1 5 8-59: i n Homans, 1 60 ; and soc ial or d er , in Rex, 1 3 !> I n terest gro u ps , and agg re ss i on , 6 8 -69 I n ternaliza t i o n , i n M a rcuse, 3 6 1 -6 3 : see

also Soc i a l ization ; F reud ,

contribution to Parson s' the o ry I n t erpret a t i o n , in hermeneutin, 2 9 4

Pauern ma i n tenance

Rex , 1 4 7

Legal syste m , a n d coercive force, 64 Leiter, Kennet h , cr itiqu e of

fun c ti on a l i sm . 2 7 6 Len in, V . I . , 3 4 2 ; a n d "Soviet Marxi s m , " 3 4 6 ; and the theoret ical

d i lemma , 3 4 4

I n terpret i ve dilemma: in G ee rtz , 3 2 2 ;

Len i n i s m , and t he ideological dilem m a ,

I n t roj ect i o n , . 0 ;

in H a bermas , 3 7 1 ; i n post war

America , 7 5 ; use of Freud, 3 !>2- 5 3 ; i n W ester n i n tellectual t hough t ,

James, W i ll i am , 202, 203 Japa n , econ om ic success of, 3 - 4 Judge s, and social control in Germa n y , before W o r l d W a r I I , 7 1

3 3 2-37

passim

Lifeworld, concept of, i n H usser!, 248

Locke , J o h n : c l as si ca l economic theory,

1 5 7; concept

of

the state of nature,

1 8 2 ; i de n t i t y of in te rests concept in

Kadusti i n , Charles, and in d i rec t exchange, 1 93 Kant, I m manue l , 200, 20 I

Keynes , John Maynard, and

R eaganom ic s , 5

Korsch , Karl, 3 4 7 Krusch. ev, N i kita, 1 1 5

t he ory of, 1 82 ; and Reagan om ics, 5 Lockwood , David, 1 29

Lukacs, George , and the theoret i ca l

dilemma, 344, 345

Maoism , a nd the ideological dilemma,

34 1 -4 2

Kuhn , M a n fred, and self theory, 2 2 9

M a o Tse-Tu n g , and the theoret ical

Labor, s u I ndustrial re lati on s Labor market, and allocation of

Marcuse, Herbert: appeal of, to 1 960s

per 10nne l , 54

dilemma, 344

radicals, 363; critique of Marx i an

determinism, 3 5 3 ; and the N ew

388

Index Metaphor, 3 2 4 ; in Geenz, 3 1 8; and

Marcuse, Herbert: (Con tinued) Left, 35 1 ; on true and false needs,

366-68

Market, concept of, in Ho ma ns, 1 82

m eaning, in Garfin kel, 2 7 1

�lethodology . and H omans' critique of

Pa rsons, 1 6 3 -6 �

Marsha ll, T . H . , and English social

M ill , John Stuart, and classical

Marx, K ar l, 1 20 ; and identity of

Mills , C. Wrigh t, 3 3 7 , 3 5 0 , 3 6 1 ;

thought, 1 1 5

economic theory, 1 5 7

interests, 1 59 ; on objective threats to

social i n te gr ati o n , 5 8 ; and

presuppositional breaks, 1 5; theory as embodiment of presuppositional possibilities, 1 7

Marxis m , " 346- 4 7 ; contrad iction

339;

between theory and ideology,

elements of, i n Pa rsons ' middle

332;

model o f society, 3 3 8 ; and the New Left ,

350;

and rational-col lecth:ism,

1 4; responses to fai led pred iction of revolution, 340-4 2 ; a n d revolutionary movements in postwar e ra , 1 1 8 M a rxist d ilemma, in Marcuse, 3 58-69

pas:sim

Masculinity, c ul t of, in Germany,

before World War II, 7 1

Material ism: elements of: in ethnomethodology, 2 7 8 , in Geen z ,

32 1 , in hermeneutics, 3 1 5 : in Rex , 1 3 3 , 1 34-3 5 , 1 5 1 ; see also U t i l i tarianism and utilitarian

dilemma

M ead , George H., 1 20 ,

202; a s

contempora ry theorist, 2 1 1 ; elements of, in Golfman, 2 3 1 ; theoretical omissions in theory,

2 1 3 ; theory as

embodiment of presuppositional possibi lities, 1 8 ; theory compared to hermeneutics, 290 M eaning. contingency of,

in Blume r ,

2 1 7- 1 8 M emory: absence of, i n Blumer's i ndiv idualism, 220; and action , in

Homans, 1 7 5 ; in Husser! , 245-46

Merleau-Ponty, Maurice: comm en t on Husserl 's "dilemma ," 2 5 0 ; and the

individualist d il emm a , 2 59

Merton, Robert , 35; soci ology of, in postwar era, I l l

Mobi l i ty, social , and coo rdi nation of cu lture system , 4 5

Money: a n d a l l oc ati on of faci l i ties,

M a rxism: compared t o "Soviet

period, 89-90; and ideology,

cri tique o f functi onalism , 128-29 ;

sociology of, in postwar era , I l l

5 3 -54; and allocation of rewards, 5 5 ; as g en er ali zed media of exchan ge, 9 8- 1 00 ; symbolic value of, and generalized media of exchange,

99

Movie stars, and a l l oca t i on of rewards,

60

Naive attitude: concept of, in H usser! ,

244;

a n d games,

i n Garfinkel , 263

in

Garfin kel , 2 5 3 ;

N a zism : a n d alloc ation and integration ,

7 1 -7 2 ; defeat of, and postwar

optimis m , 1 1 4 ; threat to modern

socie ty, in Parso ns, 2 3 N eed , true and false, in Marcuse, 3 66-68 New Left: and frustrated revolution, 369-7 0 ; a nd Yarxism , 3 5 0 N e w School for Social Re sea r ch , 35 1 Nonrational i t y , set Presuppositions N ormalization: concept of, in

Garfinkel , 2 5 4 ; example of, in Garfinke l , 262-63

Norm of reciprocity , in Gouldner's

crit ique of fu nctionalism , 1 92 Norms: and the anti -cultural position of Collins, 1 54 ; association of, with political conservatism , 1 59 ; in D ewey , 204; in early work of

G a rfi nkel , 2 5 3-56; as elements of

u nit act, 24; in Homans, 1 85 , 1 88; and Homans' critique o f

functionalism , 1 64; and interactionis m ,

2 !! 9;

and

in terpretation, in Wilso n ' s eth nome t h odology, 275; a n d the

3 89

Index " me," in Mead, 2 1 2 ; rationality of,

reduction of multidimensionality in

56; relationship to

in Rex, 1 44; reality of, 284; residual

middle phase,

1 36; an d standards of discrim ination , in H oma n s , 1 76-77;

postwa r optimism , 7 4 ; shift of

status in Rex,

c lassical t heorists, 1 20 ; response to

as structures , in Parsons ' , 28

empirical focus,

1 1 3 ; stimulus to

theory from l iberal i deology , 3 3 4 ; and u n iversalism of political culture,

Objectivity, in Husser! , 24 1 -4 7 Order; and assertion of power , in Rex ,

1 3 5; and con fl ict, and material/ideal split , 90; cooperation as basis of, i n

1 09- 1 0; voluntarist approach to order, 1 4 ; weakness of culture t heory ,

3 1 6- 1 7

Particulari sm values, and allocation of

Homans, 1 62

personnel , 54-5 5

Order problem: and col lectivist emphasis of Parson s , 1 69 ; in crit ique of Parsons, 282; i n Garfinkel, 269;

1 40-4 1 ; and

Homa ns' critique of fun ctionalism ,

1 65 ; and individua l i sm , in H omans,

1 7 9 ; inexplicability of, i n Blumer, 224; and Mead's Pragmatism, 2 1 1 - 1 2 ; i n Parsons, 30; and Rex ' s critique o f functionalism , 1 3 1 -3 2 ;

and subjectivity, in D i l t hey , 2 8 8 ; and tension with freedom,

model , defined, 9 3

Peer group, and socialization, 84-85

Hobbesian position and Rex 's critique of Parsons,

Pauern maintenance, in i n terchange

1 2- 1 3

Peirce , Charles, 202: elements of, in Coffman, 2 3 1 Personality syste m: i n Parsons, 39; i n Rex,

1 3 7 ; and role re lationships i n 67-68 s r e also

Western society,

Action, different iation among levels

Personnel, allocat ion of,

54-5 5 :

in

Parsons· later theory , 8 1

Phenomenology , 1 22: elements of, m Geertz,

32 1 ;

mean ing of. for

Pa iring: and constitution of reality, in

Husser ! , 2 4 1 ; and phenomenological

246; in G a r fi n ke l , 2 7 1 161 Parringto n , Vernon , 202

contemporary social t heory . 2 4 7 ; and

Husser!,

Pareto, infl uence on Hom a ns,

Parsons, Talcott : abstractness of theory ,

1 64 :

ambiguity i n theory ,

1 07- 1 0 : in early mode l , 29 - 34 , i n later m odel , 80, on norms, a n d R e x ' s critique, 1 3 2 - 3 3 , on action problem, 1 67 ; and Bellah , positions on culture compared, 3 09- 1 0; collectivist emphasis on order problem ,

1 69; defi n i t i o n of

sociology , 3 1 -3 2 ; dual purpose of con ceptual \'OCabulary,

90-9 1 ; as

focus of postwar sociological critique,

1 20-2 3 ; and herme neutics

compared, 30 3-6; idealist tendency . of, 50, 88, 1 78; ideological and social ambition of early work , 22; ideological aspects, 1 1 2 , 3 3 0 : in early and middle wor k , 6 5 ; positive theoret ical ambitions of, 74; post­ utilitarian image of society,

80;

reduct ion , 244-4 5 ; relation to sociology, amalgamation of, in Schutz,

25 1

Plura l i sm , and conflict, in Dah rendorf,

1 52 Police, a nd social con trol in German y , before World W a r I I , 7 1

Political party, and voting sol idarity,

1 04 Pollner, M e l v i n , traffic court as con t i n gent action, 27 7-78 Power: and al location of facilities,

53-54; and boundary in terchange, 1 0 2 ; as generalized media of exch ange, 98, 1 0 1 -7 ; and integration of social system, in Rex, 1 3 5 ; problem of, in Rex's critique of

14I 1 22; and constraint, 20 3 ; in early American sociology, 1 96; optim ism of, i n Blumer, 222 ; reaction to formalism, 20 1

Parsons,

Pragmatism ,

Index

390 Prestige: and a llocation o f rewards, as reward,

55-56;

61:

as symbolic

1 0 ; in Blumer 2 2 g-2 7 ; and disti nction from models,

1 1 9; and 1 64: in

Goffman, 2 3 3-3 7 ; and ideolOg}' in social theory, compared, 3 ?.0-32 ;

and modern cultural bel iefs, 1 2 : and problem of order, 1 1 ; relationship to other levels of scien tific cont i n u u m .

1 6;

a n d residual categories,

1 5- 1 6:

in socia l t h eory, defi ned, I 0 Private property , and distribut ion of rewards,

76;

va lue of, and

Presuppositions, and action p roblem

reward, 59 Presuppositions: and action problem ,

empirical propositions,

theory,

socia lization, 84; see also

60

Production , forces a n d relations of: m :!\-!arcuse , 3 54 ; in M a r x , 3 3 8

Profit: a s m O live for exch ange , in Homans , 1 66; a n d exchange of

values, in Homans, 1 89 : in exchange

theory , 1 74 Progress, concept of, in Parsons' later

work, 75

Proletariat, see Working Class Protestan t ism , American evangelic a l , a n d individualism , 1 97-98 Public broadcast i n g , and generalized media of exchange , 99 Puritanism : in America, and indi viduali s m , 1 9 7-9 8 ; i n E ngland, and social system strain , 4 1

R eaganomics, basis in social t h eory,

4

Real ity. multidimensional i t y of, 1 7 8 ,

283 Relativism : i n hermeneutics, 292-94; limits of, in h ermeneut ics, 298- 3 0 1

Religion: a s symbol system: in Bellah, 3 0 8 - 1 0 , in Geert z ,

307; and

boundary interchanges , in Parso ns,

95: and culture, in Geertz . 3 0 4 - 5 ; se cularized, a n d :l-1a rxism, 3 3 8-39; a n d value generalization , in Parsons, 79 Residual categories, in theory, 1 24-25 Revolution: absence of, in West , and c o n sequences for N ew Left,

369-70,

explained, in '-'l arcuse, 3 64 ; as

re sponse to al location o f rewards, 62; and Marxian predi cticn , 3 39-42;

in Rex's social theory, 1 47-48 Rewards: al location of, 5 5 - !\ 6 : and d epersonal ization of Western societv, . 67, and education , 86, and legal system, 6 4 , in Parsons' later theory,

8 1 , and •· oting, I 0 5 : amb1guous status of, i n Parson s' middle period, 9 1 ; exchan ge of, and social order, in H o mans, 1 66: in exchange theory , 1 74 ; Homans and P a r sons compared, 1 89-90; as out let for aggression, 68; and polari zation in Ger ma n y , before

Quotas, racial and rel igious, and achievement values, 6 1 -62

World Wa r I I , iO; an d "rough equivalent.' ' in Homan s , 1 8 7 ; symbolic , a n d allocation o f facilit ies,

59-6 1 Race: and conflict in po st war soci ety .

1 1 5;

discri m i n a t ion and conflict

theory,

1 55

of Parsons, 2 8 2: l iberal ideology i n ,

3 3 5-36; material i st a n d determinist

Radical ideology : among 1 9 60s intel lectuals, 349-50; in W estern intellectual thought, 332-?.7

Rex . J ohn: and collect i v i s m in cri tique

pawm

Rational ity : and action problem in

Rex, 1 44 ; and conflicting i m erest, in Homans, 1 6 1 -6 2 ; in Homans, 1 74 ; instrumental, in exchange theory,

1 79; in modern societ}'• in Parsons , 79-80; and nonrat ional ac t ion, i n Husser) , 247-50; in Parsons' later

elements of theory ,

1 34-39;

presupposi tional l i m i tations of

th eory , 1 44-3 1 ; as prototype of

co nflict theory, 1 2 8 ; the public function of sociology, 1 29 ; the

reduction of Parsons' theory , 1 S3

Ricardo, David , and cl assical economic th eory. 1 57

Ritual, as nonrational behavior, i n Rex,

1 45

391

Index Role strain, and socialization, 63 Roles: and allocat ion and integration, 53; contingency of performance, 47; coordination of, 4 5 - 4 6 : gender, and emotional conflicts in modern society, 69; and Homans' critique of functionalism , 1 64 ; institutionalization of, 8 1 : modern adult, 85; requirements of, and constraint , in Homans, 1 90; and role making, 2 29; and role sanctions, 48-49; and role st rai n , 4 3 : sequencing of, 4 4 ; social, in Parsons, 42-49: social , in st ruct ural-funct ional theory , 64-65 Royce, Josiah, 202 Sacks, Harvey . on omversation analysis, 279 Sanctions, su Roles, and role sanctions Sartre, Jean Pau l , and the N ew Left , 351 Saussure, ferdi nand, ideal reductionism of. 3 1 3 Scapegoats, and polarization in Germany, before World War I I , 7 0 ; and Western personality , 68 Scarcity, 53; problem of. in Rex's critique of Parsons, 1 4 1 Schegloff, Immanuel , on conversation analysis, 279 Sch leiermacher, Fr. D . E . , 294 Sch utz, Alfred : and the indiv idual ist dilemma, 2 5 9 ; and mu ndane phenomenology, 2 50-5 1 Science: and cultural method, in hermeneutics, 292 ; and research and social equilibrium , 57 Scientists, and distribution of rewards, 60

Self, concept of, in Goffman , 23 1 Self-indication, in Blumer, 2 1 8-19 Self theory, in Kuh n , 2 2 9 Semiotics, ideal reductionism of, 3 1 3 Shils, Edward, functionalism at U niversity of Chicago, I I 7 Signs: and interaction, in Goffman, 2 3 1 ; see also Symbols, and signs

Simmel , Georg, 1 20; theory as embodiment of presuppositiona l possibilities, 1 8 Smith, Adam: and classical economic theory , 1 5 7 ; identity of interests concept in theory of, 1 8 2 ; and Reaganomics, 4 ; theory as embodiment of presuppositional possibilit ies, 1 8 Social Darwinism, su Darwinism ; U t il itarianism and utilitarian dilemma Social Democrats, and ideological d ilemma, 340 Socialism , and technology , in Marcuse, 359

Socialization : and allocation of personnel, 8 1 -88 pas5im; childhood, and limits to expectat ions, 63-64 ; and confl ict reduct ion , 68-69 ; and contingency of action, i n Parsons, 1 68 ; an d different iation, in interchange model, 98; and formation of society , in Parsons, 3 9 ; in Goffman, 2 3 :>; and internalization of roles, i n Mead, 207 - 8 ; and internalization of values, i n Homans, 184-85; and mai ntenance of t ruce, i n Rex, 1 50; a nd social order i n Mead a n d Parsons, 2 1 4 ; a nd voluntaristic society , 82 ; see also Peer group: Youth culture Social syst em : compared to culture system , in Bellah , 3 I 0; in cultural analvsis of Geertz, 326; i n Parsons, 39; rocesses of, elaborated in social role , 6 4 - 6 5 ; �ee also Action, d i fferentiation among levels; Deviance: Role Sociology: author's definition, 1 24 ; definition of, by Parsons, 3 1 -3 2 ; post-World War 1 1 climate for: i n Europe , 1 9-20 , 1 2 9 United States, 1 9-2 1 ; resistance to, in prewar Europe, 1 1 7 ; and social melioration , 20; and "symbolic reductionism," in Bellah, 308- l 0 Soviet Russia, postwar optimism, 1 1 4 Spencer, H erbert, 1 99, 200

p

,

392

Index

Stalin, Joseph , 1 1 5 , 342 , 347

as prototype of utilitarian thinking,

Stalinism, 3 3 3 Status, and exchange o f 'l:alues, m Homans, 1 88-89

Stratification: and allocation or rewards i n education,

86;

a nd conflict theory,

I 55; and socialization, 63-64 Structural-functional model: and allocative strains of VI.'estern

313

Stryker, Sheldon , 229

5;

and reality, 3 : relation t o facts, 6 :

relation to method i n hermeneutics.

29 1 -92

Third world. i n postwar era , 1 1 6

Subjectivity: a n d cultural method . in

hermeneutics, 29 1 ; in Dilthey , 2 8 7 - 8 8 : in Homans, 1 7 4-78

Superego, ste Freud, contribution to Parsons' theo r}'

Sweezy, Paul , 3 3 7

Thoreau, H enry, 1 98

Time: and memory , in Husser ! ; co ncept of, i n Goffman, 2 3 7

Tradition, a n d polari zation in

Germany. before World War I I , 70

Transcendentalism, in American

Symbols: and a d hoeing, i n Garfinkel,

269-70; and culture syste m , i n Geertz, 305: as locus o f meaning, i n Mead , 206- 1 4 passim; a n d

intellectual h i s tory, 1 98

Truce situ ation, and internalization of norms a nd values, i n Rex. 1 48- 5 1 Turner, Frederick, 202

objectivity, in Ricoeur, 296-9 7 ; and

3 1 8;

a nd signs: i n theory o f Peirce , symbolic reductionism , ' '

in Bellah , 308- l 0 ; systems of. a n d

in

micro reference, 37 6-80; and

War I I , 2 8 1 -8 2 ; production of,

Structuralism , ideal reduction ism of.

culture,

mm1ern , and synthesis of macro/

" Parsonian empire" after World

Functionalism

..

analytic divis ion of labor, 1 90;

multidimensionality , 23 9-40 ; and

evaluation or, 49-5 1 ; il'f also

204-5; and

induction, 5; l i m i tations of. and

multidimensional reality , 283-84;

societies, 66- 7 2 : in Parsons,

rhetorical device, in Geenz,

2 5 ; defined, 2 ; and empirical

propositions, 1 63-64; genera l , 3 ; and

Geertz, 3 0 6 - i

S y n o n y m , a n d meaning. in Garfinkel.

Turner, Ralph, and theory of

collective behavior, 229

Turner, Victor, 304

C nderdeveloped nations, political instability of, 1 1 6 U n ions, labor. and socia l rewards , 50 U n i t act: components of, and the

27 1

critique of Parsons, 282; and Taxation. and integration and al location, 6 1 Technology: determ inate social force of, in M arcuse, 3 5 8 -69 pa ssim; i nternalization of, in M arcuse,

3 6 2 -6 3 ; role of, in revolution, in Rex,

1 47

individualism, in Rex, 1 45: and the "me," in '-1 ead . 2 1 2; subjective and objective components, 24-25; theoretical frame Parsons,

of

reference i n

24

U n i versalism values, and allocation of personnel, 54-55

Theoretical dilemma, in Marxism,

U n iversity, as example of role

Theory: anti- Parsonian v . post­

l: tilitarianism : and adaptation to

343-45

Parsonian , 3 74-75: a priori element

coordination ,

4 5-46

external conditions, 25; elements of,

of, 6; as limit to relativis m ,

in Par sons' middle period, 89-9 0 ;

299-30 1 ; basic components of, 6-i;

pervasiveness in Western social

a n d the caricature of opposing

thought, 2 3 -24; and post-utilitarian

views, 1 30, 273; classical economic.

i mage of society, 80 ; and rational

393

Index voting,

Parsons, 1 09 : and rational­ and social breakdown, 74; and superego formation , 38; and utilitarian dilemma, 26-28; in Rex 's social theory, 1 46; and voting, 1 02-3 Utopia, elements of, in H omans, 1 8 2 in

collec tiv i sm , 1 4 ;

Utopian socialism , 3 3 3

Voluntaristic structuralism, s u V oluntarism, response to utilitarianism Voting, and power, 1 02-7 Max, 1 20, 24 1 : as focus of classical revival in Pa s o n ian critique,

Weber ,

r

1 1 9; and rational-collectivism ,

Values: concept of, in Homans, 1 7 7-78; in Dewey, 2 0 4 ; generalization of, and social change, in Parsons, 78-79; as generalized media of exchange. 9 8 , 1 00- 1 ; impo rtan ce of, i n Parsons, 306, 302; internalization of, and Rex 's critique of functionalism, 1 3 2 ; problem of, in Rex's critique of Parsons, 1 4 1 -4 2 ; residual status in Rex , 1 3 6 ; and reward, in Homans , 1 8 3-84 ; va ri ab l e and constant, in Homans, 1 85-86 Veblen. Thorstein, 202 Voluntarism : and ami-voluntaristic perspective o f Rex , 1 46 ; and Blumer's critique of Parsons, 2 1 6- 1 7 ; and conflict dilemma, in Rex, 1 4 8; elements of, i n Marcuse, 3 5 5 ; and free will, 3 2 - 3 3 ; in Homans, 1 62 ; in Marxism , 3 3 9 , 343 ; in Pragmatism , 202 - 3 ; respo n e to utilitarianism , 28-33 Voluntaristic society , s u Socialization and voluntaristic society

s

1 4;

theorv as embodim ent of presu positional possibilities, 1 7 - 1 8 ; volun tar is m in theory of, 2 8 Weimar Republic, reaction to, by traditionalist groups, 7 1 Weinstein, James, and the " ew Left ,

p

35 1

Welfa re state: as alternative to

Marxism , in Marshall , 1 1 5 ; and integration and al l oc a t io n 6 1 ; and Parsons theory of societ a l evolution, 1 13 W ilson , Edmund, 202 Wilson , Thomas, normative and interpretive sociology , 2 7 5 Working class: in Germany, before World War 1 1 . 70; Rex's ideological support for, 1 4 3 Writers, and distribution of rewards, ,

60

Youth culture and allocation of person nel ,

84-8 5