Professional Documents
Culture Documents
The Sociology of Science Theoretical and Empirical Investigations
The Sociology of Science Theoretical and Empirical Investigations
Sociology
of
Science
Robert K.
Merton
Edited and
with an Introduction by
Norman W. Storer
The
Sociology
of
Science
Theoretical and
Empirical
Investigations
4567
To my teachers
Pitirim A. Sorokin
Talcott Parsons
George Sarton
L. J. Henderson
A. N. Whitehead
who together formed
my interest in the
sociological study of
science
Contents
Author's Preface
ix
xt
The Sociology of
Scientific Knowledge
The Sociology of
Knowledge
Prefatory Note
1.
2.
3.
Prefatory Note
139
6.
7.
8.
9.
4.
5.
viii
Contents
PrefatoryNote
223
Prefatory Note
281
The Processes of
Evaluation in Science
Prefatory Note
415
561
Index of Names
Index of Subjects
577
587
Author's Preface
Reiteration would only dull the thanks I express in the individual papers
to the many who have helped me get on with my work in this field. But
there are other, current debts. I thank Richard Lewis for help in reading
the proofs of this book, and Mary Miles and Hedda Garza for preparing
the index. I owe special thanks to my colleagues Bernard Barber, Harriet
Zuckerman, and Richard Lewis for allowing me to reprint our joint
papers, and to Elinor Barber for allowing me to draw upon our published
and unpublished collaborative work. I gladly acknowledge the help given
me by a fellowship from the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation, by a term as Visiting Scholar of the Russell Sage Foundation and,
more recently, by a grant from the National Science Foundation in support of the Columbia University Program in the Sociology of Science.
I, for one, must testify to the growing worth of that program as I agreeably observe that my colleagues in it-Harriet Zuckerman, Stephen Cole,
and Jonathan Cole-have come to teach me increasingly more than I
have ever been capable of teaching them. I have also benefitted much
from the thought and friendship of William J. Goode since those distant
days when we first worked together in the sociology of the professions.
And in this latest retrospect, I discover once again how much I have
learned from Paul F. Lazarsfeld, in joint seminars, in other joint ventures
and, most of all, from our continuing dialogue through the years.
R. K. M.
Introduction
By Norman W. Storer
xii
Introduction
As a sociological specialty, the field has come alive only in the past
fifteen years or so; the upward turn in the logistic curve describing its
growth (which we know is typical of new, "hot" specialties in many fields
of science) began in the mid-fifties. It would perhaps be a sign of premature senility, or at least of the flattening of the S-shaped curve, for any
new field other than the sociology of science to begin so early to examine
its own development. But this field has the peculiar character of being grist
for its own mill. Yesterday's achievements-and failures-are data for
today's research on the growth of scientific specialties, as is the case with
no other specialized discipline. This unique property carries its own hazards. Too much thinking about one's own thinking can produce intellectual
stasis; too much questioning of one's own questions can produce a kind
of sociological anomie. Yet such difficulties can scarcely be allowed to
dissuade us from trying to understand the character and development of
this special field.
The papers collected her~ are intended to serve several purposes. Primarily, the volume brings together a number of articles that have been of
central significance in the development of the sociology of science, together
with others which are representative of certain stages in that process. At
the same time, the collection may provide a sense of the intellectual continuity and coherence of the field; more clearly here than in some other
fields of sociology, the seeds of future growth can be readily found in
papers antedating this growth by ten years and more. In a more practical
vein, enclosing these papers drawn from many different sources within a
single cover will afford easy access to them for those wanting to make use
of them in their own work. Finally, the collection pays tribute to the
author; the substance and style of the papers themselves record, in a way
mere panegyric could not, the enduring importance of his work.
The papers are not presented in strictly chronological order. The warp
and woof of the entire corpus is drawn so tight-the intersections of different threads of thought are so frequent-that it has seemed better to
separate and group the major elements in this mosaic for concentrated
attention than to leave the task entirely to the reader. It is hoped that in
this way the continued clarification of ideas and the ways they have been
woven together to give added strength to this growing body of knowledge
will be made more visible.
But the papers themselves, even with the extensive footnoting that has
been characteristic of Merton's work since the beginning, cannot provide
full perspective on the larger scene-the social and intellectual context
within which they have been produced and to which they have contributed.
It is the aim of this introduction to supply such perspective from the vantage point of 1973, aiming not at anything like a history of the sociology
of science but rather at sketching the major landmarks and problems that
Introduction
xiii
have provided its broad outlines. Additional detail will be found in the
prefatory notices to each of the five parts of the volume.
The sociology of science is sometimes defined as a part of the sociology
of knowledge, and yet the multifaceted problem of the relations between
knowledge and reality (not to speak of the reality of knowledge) is a more
general one, at the heart of the larger part of sociology. Studies of religion
and ideology, of the mass media and public opinion, and of norms and
values, to say nothing of the methodological concerns of sociologists, all
implicate the chicken-and-egg question of the interdependence of these
two fundamental components of human life in groups. How do existential,
everyday experiences mold the ways in which people conceptualize the
world? How, in tum, do their conceptualizations influence their actions
in the world, and how, further, do they react to discrepancies between
what they "know" and what they experience?
It is perhaps because Wissenssoziologie, the sociology of knowledge, in
a sense defined its concerns so narrowly in the beginning, focusing almost
exclusively on trying to reason out the extent to which men's knowledge
is shaped by their interests and experiences, that it had fallen into disarray
by the 1930s. Indeed, as Merton's examination of the field in 1945 (included here as "Paradigm for the Sociology of Knowledge") demonstrates,
this particular question contained within itself the petard by which it would
eventually be hoist. To conclude that knowledge is not at all molded by
men's experiences would undermine the raison d'etre of the field, while to
conclude that it is altogether so molded would seem tantamount to questioning, if not denying, the validity of all knowledge-including that
conclusion. This restricted construction of the problem led to a maze of
internal contradictions, a cul-de-sac from which escape had to be sought
by beginning anew with different questions.
Such questions were, of course, vigorously pursued in different sectors
of the sociological community. Weber's work on the importance of the
Protestant Weltanschauung in producing capitalism in Europe had already
had a long and effectively controversial history by the time Merton saw its
relevance to his interest in the history of science. Durkheim's work on
primitive religion and his orientation to problems in the sociology of knowledge was beginning to attract the notice even of some American sociologists. The task was to put the various problems back into some sort of
orderly array.
In the early 1930s, however, Merton's interest was not primarily in the
sociology of knowledge. During his graduate studies at Harvard, he undertook, at the suggestion of the economic historian E. F. Gay, an analytical
book review of A. P. Usher's History of Mechanical Invention. Gay liked
it and suggested that George Sarton, also at Harvard, publish it in Isis,
the prime journal in the history of science which he had founded and still
xiv
Introduction
edited. Sarton did so, and he encouraged Merton's interest in the history
of science by having him work in the renowned workshop in Widener
Library. Noting his growing expertise in this field, Pitirim A. Sorokin
recruited Merton to assist him in the studies of the development of science
that would make up parts of his Social and Cultural Dynamics. This provided valuable experience in focusing on the development of quantitative
measures of intellectual development and change, and perhaps paved the
way to "prosopography"-"the study of the common background characteristics of a group of actors in history by means of a collective study of
their lives" 3-which Merton was to employ extensively in his later work.
Merton also studied with L. J. Henderson, the biochemist who had made
a place for Sarton at Harvard and who was himself a gifted teacher of the
history of science. 4 He attended the course of lectures in the philosophy
of science given by Alfred North Whitehead and the unique course on
comparative "animal sociology" in which specialists on a score of social
species were brought together by William Morton Wheeler, the dean of
entomologists whose omnivorous intellectual appetite included the history
of science. And his early work on social aspects of science was monitored
by the polymath E. B. Wilson, then associated with the new department
of sociology. Merton was thus responding to the many opportunities at
Harvard to develop various perspectives on science by going beyond the
conventional boundaries of sociology, even though he continued in the department to be the student of Sorokin and, increasingly, of the young
instructor, Talcott Parsons.
It was apparently this confluence of varied intellectual currents, rather
than immediate developments in the sociology of knowledge, that led
Merton to attempt a sociological analysis of the growth and development
of science and that laid the foundation for his continuing interest in science
as a distinctive social activity. Not that he was at this time unconcerned
with the broader conceptual framework in which science could be located.
Two papers5 testify to this wider theoretical orientation. In 1935 he published in Isis a review of recent work in the sociology of knowledge by
Max Scheler, Karl Mannheim, Alexander von Schelting, and Ernst GrUnwald. In the next year he published "Civilization and Culture," a paper
that located knowledge as a distinct focus of sociological interest in rela3. For an account of Merton's role in this development, see Lawrence Stone,
"Prosopography," Daedalus 100 (1971): 46-79.
4. For an account of Henderson's role in sociology, see the introduction to L. J.
Henderson, On the Social System: Selected Writings, ed. and with an introduction by
Bernard Barber (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970); for an account of
Sarton's role in shaping the history of science, see Arnold Thackray and Robert K.
Merton, "On Discipline-Building: The Paradoxes of George Sarton," Isis 63 (1972):
473-95.
5. The Bibliography lists all of Merton's writings cited here.
Introduction
xv
xvi
Introduction
Introduction
xvii
oped by Edward Shils in the 1950s, and became a basic conception in the
sociology of science in the 1960sP
Recently, it should be noted, there has been renewed observation that
the nature and direction of scientific growth cannot be adequately understood without dealing specifically with the contents of science-its concepts, data, theories, paradigms, and methods. The idea that the development of science can be analyzed at all effectively, apart from the concrete
research of scientists, is said to have proven false. 14 The study of science,
after all, begins with its product, scientific knowledge, rather than simply
with those individuals who occupy the social position of "scientist." (This,
incidentally, may account for the dearth of sociological studies focused
on run-of-the-mill or relatively unproductive scientists: so long as science
is defined by its research product, those who contribute little directly to
that product are difficult to fit into the picture.)
Regarding the strategy of inquiry, however, it can be argued rather
forcefully that it is of basic importance, especially in the beginning of
sociological inquiry into the subject, to distinguish the behavior of scientists as scientists from the details of their "output"-if only to attend to
the diverse aspects of doing science and to reduce the number of variables
being considered at a given time. A comparable strategy is in fact employed by Thomas S. Kuhn in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions/ 5
except that there the focus is on the formal organization of scientific
knowledge and it is the social variables that need to be successively identified. Sociologically, it was necessary to identify the boundaries of the
scientific community and to explore the bases of its place within society
before the sociology of science could proceed to a range of other problems.
(Indeed, the question of why science becomes established in any society,
when most people can neither profit directly from the work of scientists
nor comprehend and appreciate what they are doing, forms the central
problem to which Joseph Ben-David addresses himself in his recent book
on The Scientist's Role in Society. 16 )
13. Polanyi's early paper of 1942, "Self-Government of Science," is included in his
collection of essays, The Logic of Liberty (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1951 ), pp. 49-67; the general idea is developed in his many later books (see, for
example, Personal Knowledge [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1958]). Edward
Shils, "Scientific Community: Thoughts After Hamburg," Bulletin of the Atomic
Scientists 10 (1954): 1151-55, reprinted in Edward Shils, The Intellectuals and the
Powers, Selected Papers, vol. I (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1972), pp.
204-12. The developments in the 1960s are considered later in this introduction.
14. See, for instance, Barnes and Dolby, "The Scientific Ethos"; Mulkay, "Some
Aspects of Cultural Growth"; and M. D. King, "Reason, Tradition, and the Progressiveness of Science," History and Theory 10 (1971): 3-32.
15. Second ed., enlarged (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1970).
16. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1971.
xviii
Introduction
While there is no clear sign that Merton was then fully aware of the
need for such a strategy, it does now seem that it was critically important
to establish the relevance of distinctively sociological analyses to the study
of science if the field were to develop at all. The social structure of an
institution and the general orientations that characterize its participants,
after all, can be separated from the specific concerns and activities that
occupy their attention during particular periods of time. Thus, to take an
analogous case, we assume that the central dynamics of public opinion
are the same, whether its substantive focus is a war, an economic situation,
a religious revival, or a fad.
Having explored the problematics of scientific knowledge in his monograph, with particular attention to the social as well as intellectual sources
of foci of investigation in science, Merton evidently became persuaded
that further sociological analysis required a more systematic conception of
the social structure of science. It is significant that his early (1935) paper
with Sorokin, "The Course of Arabian Intellectual Development, 7001300 A.D.," is subtitled "A Study in Method." The fact was that without a
sufficiently well-developed model of the social structure of science, there
was no way to generate theoretically important questions that could use
systematic data on scientific development to advantage. A research method
is not much use if it cannot be coupled with theoretical questions (even
though it may, through producing certain kinds of new data, encourage
the subsequent development of theory).
So the decision was made, or perhaps evolved, to concentrate on the
social structure of science rather than to continue with study of the social
contexts that influence its substantive output of knowledge. The first phase
of this work appeared in 1942 with the publication of "A Note on Science
and Democracy" (reprinted here under the more appropriate title, "The
Normative Structure of Science"). In this paper appeared the comprehensive statement of ideal norms to which scientists are oriented in their
relations with each other: universalism, communism, organized skepticism,
and disinterestedness.
Widely adopted as it has been, Merton's description of the "ethos of
science" has not, it should be remarked, met with universal acceptance
over the thirty years since its publication. Criticism, however, has been
concentrated not so much on its having mistaken the components of this
ethos, but on the question whether these norms in fact guide scientists'
everyday behavior. No one has come forward with a radically different
set of norms, but various critics have pointed out that scientists frequently
violate one or more of the indicated norms. Thus, the treatment of the
controversial Immanuel Velikovsky by members of the "scientific establishment" in the early 1950s is the one case repeatedly cited as an instance
of widespread defection from the norms of universalism and disinterested-
Introduction
xix
ness. 17 There have been scattered attempts to measure the extent of commitment among scientists to the norms identified by Merton. The most
recent of these, although its conclusions are limited by imperfect operationalization of some of these norms, finds substantial orientation to them
in a sample of nearly a thousand American scientists, the extent of this
varying somewhat by scientific discipline, scientific role, and organizational
affiliation of scientists. 18
It is, of course, the case that the behavior of scientists does not invariably adhere to the norms. But the implication sometimes drawn from this
fact that the norms are therefore irrelevant stems from a misapprehension
of the ways in which social norms operate. The theoretical problem is one
of identifying the conditions under which behavior tends to conform to
norms or to depart from them and to make for their change. Norms of this
sort are associated primarily with a social role, so that even when they
have been internalized by individuals, they come into play primarily in
those situations in which the role is being performed and socially supported. When scientists are aware that their colleagues are oriented to
these same norms-and know that these provide effective and legitimate
rules for interaction in "routine" scientific situations-their behavior is the
more likely to accord with them. These routine situations occur most
frequently within an accepted universe of discourse, or paradigm; when
there is general agreement on the ground-rules of the game (for example,
basic concepts and problems, criteria of validity, etc.), acting in terms of
the rules becomes personally rewarding and reinforces institutional bases
for the development of knowledge. It is when such a universe of discourse
is only slightly developed (as during the Kuhnian "pre-paradigm" stage
in the development of a new discipline or during a "scientific revolution"),
or when group loyalties outside the domain of science take over, that
violations of the norms become more frequent, leading some to reject the
norms entirely.
This analysis puts us somewhat ahead in the discussion of the development of the sociology of science, bringing in as it does explicit attention
to the content of science (even though not at the level of specific data or
theories). It was not until the late 1960s that the tactical advantages to be
gained from drawing a sharp distinction between the social structure of
science and its specific substantive output had been realized-the sociology
of science had become established by then-and the time was ripe to pay
17. Alfred de Grazia, ed., The Velikovsky Affair (New York: University Books,
1966).
18. Marian Blissett, Politics in Science (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1972),
pp. 65-89, appendixes A, B, and C. An exploratory study by S. Stewart West ("The
Ideology of Academic Scientists," IRE Transactions on Engineering Management
EM-7 [1960]: 54-62) could be only suggestive at best, since it was based on responses
from only fifty-seven scientists in one American university.
xx
Introduction
attention once more to the reciprocal relations between the social structure
of science and scientific knowledge. The point will be taken up in more
detail below.
Following the 1942 paper on the norms of science, there was a hiatus
of about seven years in Merton's publications in the sociology of science,
strictly conceived 19-and there were few major contributions to the field
from anyone else until 1952, when Bernard Barber's influential Science
and the Social Order was published (with a foreword of considerable interest by Merton). Well before then, however, he had identified science
as a special focus of interest within the sociology of knowledge. Certainly
his analysis of Mannheim's work in "Karl Mannheim and the Sociology of
Knowledge," appearing in 1941, exhibits intensive study of the topic,
which was to lead to his more comprehensive discussion of the entire field
in 1945 (reprinted here as "Paradigm for the Sociology of Knowledge").
Indeed, his interest in the social matrix of knowledge can be traced further
back, to an article on "social time" published with Sorokin in 1937, which
explores the question of how social processes influence the concepts and
measurement of time.
The paper on Mannheim highlighted a number of unresolved difficulties
in the study of how (and to what extent) existential conditions shape
men's "knowledge" (which, for Mannheim, often seemed to include "every
type of assertion and every mode of thought from folkloristic maxims to
rigorous science"), but concluded with the courteous expectation that
much enlightenment would be forthcoming from Mannheim's further explorations of the subject.
By 1945 Merton's dissatisfaction with the field was more clearly evident,
and he undertook to chart some new directions through which further
progress might be possible. It was at this point, too, that a separate chain
of interests, also dating back to his years at Harvard, began to link with
his interest in the sociology of knowledge. He had already worked with
the general idea that available knowledge involves specifiable gaps in
coping with social reality, developing it in various ways through his discussion in "The Unanticipated Consequences of Purposive Social Action"
(1936), through the seminal paper "Social Structure and Anomie" (1938),
19. During this period, however, Merton did deal with various problems and conceptions relating to the sociology of science. For example: "The Role of the Intellectual in Public Bureaucracy" (1945), dealing with organizational constraints on policyoriented knowledge; "The Machine, the Worker and the Engineer" (1947), treating
the problem of the "rationalized abdication of social responsibilities" by technologists; "The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy" ( 1948), with its implications for social epistemology; "Election Polling Forecasts and Public Images of Social Science" (with
Paul Hatt, 1949), examining a special case of failed claims to knowledge affecting
the public standing of science; and "Patterns of Influence" (1949), with its concepts
of local and cosmopolitan influentials.
Introduction
xxi
and through the concept of latent dysfunctions. Although the topic could
be viewed as a distinctive problem within the sociology of knowledge, it
obviously had implications far beyond those evident in contemporary
"mainstream" works in the field.
The next several years were a kind of harvest-time during which Merton
brought to fruition a number of related interests-disparate though they
may have appeared to others. Apart from his continuing codification of
functional analysis during this period, which provided the theoretical background for his empirical interests, Merton was evidently centrally concerned with the various relationships that may exist between "knowledge"
and "reality," and he worked on several subjects that served as what
he describes as "strategic research sites" for the investigation of these
relationships.
Studies in public opinion and personal influence, carried out with Paul
F. Lazarsfeld in the Bureau of Applied Social Research of Columbia
University, fitted in directly with the 1945 paradigm: the question of the
social bases of knowledge was operationalized in empirical research on
sources of people's decision-oriented knowledge. At the same time, exceptions to the postulate of "class-based consciousness" could be studied in
the relationships between group membership and attitudes and could be
partly accounted for in terms of a developing reference group theory. 20
The problem of how a member of the bourgeoisie could develop an active
concern for the rights of the proletariat, for example, or how a member
of the proletariat could maintain a "false consciousness" all his life, had
been a major stumbling block in attempts to identify the social bases of
knowledge; but once it was reconceptualized in terms of reference groups,
it became amenable to systematic research.
March and Simon21 have traced what they describe as the "Merton
model" of bureaucracy focused on unanticipated organizational consequences as it was substantially developed in a series of outstanding empirical studies by graduates of the Columbia department (Selznick, Gouldner,
Blau, Lipset, Trow, and Coleman). This model provided opportunity to
wrestle with the problems that appear when "knowledge" (in this case,
as exhibited in the formal structure and goals of a bureaucracy) is given
and organizational "reality" (empirical patterns of interaction within the
bureaucracy) becomes the dependent variable. Here social reality is adjusting (and reacting) to knowledge-in contrast to science, where knowledge must eventually be adjusted to fit reality.
20. See, for instance, Robert K. Merton and Alice S. Rossi, "Contributions to the
Theory of Reference Group Behavior," and Robert K. Merton, "Continuities in the
Theory of Reference Groups and Social Structure."
21. James G. March and Herbert A. Simon, Organizations (New York: Wiley,
1958), chapter 3.
xxii
Introduction
Introduction
xxiii
xxiv
Introduction
Introduction
xxv
xxvi
Introduction
Introduction
xxvii
was not until these patterns were seen as fundamental to the development
of new scientific specialties and not until the latent functions of planned
communication came into focus that an explicit linkage was formed. 33
Crane's Invisible Colleges 34 brings the two interests together very effectively, and Nicholas C. Mullins' 1966 dissertation at Harvard, "Social
Networks Among Biological Scientists," represents an independent approach to the problem. 35
Another important source of information on the flow of communication
in science was the American Psychological Association's project on communication among psychologists. This developed an extensive array of
data during the 1960s, under the direction of William Garvey and Belver
C. Griffith. Garvey then moved to Johns Hopkins, where the Center for
Research in Scientific Communication undertook a notable series of studies
of communication during and after the annual meetings of a number of
scientific and technological associations. 36 These studies tended to be long
on data and relatively short on theory, but they have proven to be quite
compatible with questions derived from the paradigm. Griffith, now at
the Drexel Institute, has also continued to study the communications and
invisible colleges of scientists.
Three additional lines of development in the United States, largely independent of the Mertonian tradition and yet generally complementary,
should be noted here. Joseph Ben-David, working partly at Chicago and
partly at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, has produced since 1960 a
series of important papers on the relation of different forms of academic
organization to scientific developments, culminating in his recent important analysis of the growth of science in Western civilization since the time
33. Herbert Menzel, "The Flow of Information Among Scientists: Problems, Opportunities, and Research Questions," mimeographed (New York: Columbia University Bureau of Applied Social Research, 1958). On the functions of various
patterns of communication, see Herbert Menzel, "Planned and Unplanned Scientific
Communication," in International Conference on Scientific Information, Proceedings
(Washington, D.C.: National Academy of Sciences, 1959), pp. 199-243. See also,
Menzel, "Scientific Communication: Five Themes from Social Research," American
Psychologist 21 (1966): 999-1004, and for other aspects of the communication
process, the other papers in the same issue of this journal.
34. Diana Crane, Invisible Colleges: Diffusion of Knowledge in Scientific Communities (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1972).
35. For example, see Nicholas C. Mullins, "The Distribution of Social and Cultural Properties in Informal Communication Networks among Biological Scientists,"
American Sociological Review 33 (October 1968): 786-97.
36. See, for example, the Johns Hopkins University Center for Research in Scientific Communication, "Scientific Exchange-Behavior at the 1966 Annual Meeting
of the American Sociological Association," report no. 4, Baltimore, September 1967,
pp. 209-50; and "The Dissemination of Scientific Information, Informal Interaction,
and the Impact of Information Associated with the 48th Annual Meeting of the
American Geophysical Union," report no. 5, Baltimore, October 1967, pp. 251-92.
xxviii
Introduction
Introduction
xxix
xxx
Introduction
ogy." Others are at work in the field at Leeds (J. R. Ravetz and R. G. A.
Dolby), at Cambridge (N. J. Mulkay), at London (Hilary Rose), at
Cardiff (Paul Halmos), and at Manchester (Richard D. Whitley).
In Sweden, Stevan Dedijer has assembled a research group at the University of Lund. Considerable interest in the sociology of science exists in
the Soviet Union as A. Zvorikin and S. R. Mikulinskii, among others,
testify, with the work of Gennady Dobrov at Kiev being along the lines
developed by Derek Price in this country. Increasing interest in the field
has been evidenced by social scientists in Poland, where years ago, in the
mid-1930s, Maria Ossowka and Stanislaw Ossowski introduced the "science
of science"; in Czechoslovakia where the Academy of Sciences has coordinated disciplinary work on the social and human implications of
science and technology; in France, in the work of such men as JeanJacques Salomon, Serge Moscovici, and Bernard Lecuyer (whose work in
the sociology of science, chiefly under the guidance of Paul Lazarsfeld,
began in a joint seminar given by Lazarsfeld and Merton); and in Germany, Israel, Holland, Japan, and an array of other countries. A number of
important investigations have been carried out by UNESCO and the Union
Intemationale d'Histoire et de Philosophie des Sciences in Paris, and a
Research Committee on the Sociology of Science has been established by
the International Sociological Association. Any comprehensive survey of
the present state of the sociology of science that examined the contributions
of these groups would surely conclude that it is becoming less and less an
American specialty.
Since the emergence of the Mertonian paradigm in the early 1960s,
most research in the field appears to fit Kuhn's definition of "normal science." Not only Merton's own work but that of many others in the field
have focused primarily on problems which, once elucidated, tum out to be
directly relevant to questions explicit or implicit in the paradigm. In short,
the sociology of science has matured to the point where much research
involves "puzzle-solving." As Kuhn emphasizes,40 to describe research as
"puzzle-solving" does not imply that it falls short of being imaginative,
satisfying, or important. Filling out the areas which a paradigm can only
identify-what Merton has described as "specified ignorance"-is as
necessary to the development of scientific knowledge as is the scientific
revolution; without the yin of normal science, there would be no basis for
the yang of scientific revolution-and the latter is comparatively rare.
As the five divisions of this volume indicate, several fundamental questions generated by the paradigm have led to substantial research. For
example, the effort to work out a comprehensive concept of the reward
system in science-in part by intensively investigating the meanings in40. Kuhn, Structure of Scientific Revolutions, chapter 4.
Introduction
xxxi
volved in the quest for priority-helped to focus attention on how professional recognition is achieved in science and to indicate how the reward
system is linked to the normative structure. Further related to this line
of investigation are the social organization and processes of evaluation
that are seen as central to science as an intellectual enterprise. This leads
to research on such empirical problems as the ways in which the quality
of scientific contributions is assessed and the general adequacy or inadequacy of this process in facilitating the equitable allocation of rewards
for these contributions. Finally, as we have seen, problems of this sort
have led to closer scrutiny of the criteria by which scientific excellence is
determined and to an explicit consideration of the intellectual variables
involved: the degree of consensus that exists in a given discipline and
several aspects of the organization of its body of knowledge.
There is no completely satisfactory way to close this introduction, for
the field described here which Merton and others have thus far advanced
is still in a stage of rapid expansion. Presented here are many of the
foundation stones of the sociology of science as it is presently constituted,
together with numerous examples of work on questions built upon this
foundation. One of the facts that is lost when one categorizes all science
as "normal" or "revolutionary," however, is that the shape of the paradigms-the facets prominent at a given time-changes as "normal" questions are solved and new ones take their place. Such changes hardly
constitute a revolution, any more than the invasion of a new type of tree
changes the essential character of a forest, but those of us in the midst of
the forest may look forward to different foci of attention and to different
research methods and data as this particular forest continues to flourish.
For all of this, the enduring value of the papers collected here cannot
be mistaken. It will be several decades at least before the Whiteheadian
maxim, "A science which hesitates to forget its founders is lost," has any
relevance at all to the sociology of science-and the editor mentions this
only as a bet-hedging counter to his own conviction that these papers will
not lose their basic value so long as the perspectives of sociology are
applied to any science, including itself.
NORMAN
W.
STORER
The
Sociology of
Knowledge
Part
Prefatory Note
The five papers comprising part one
delineate Merton's continuing interest in the sociology of knowledge,
and the dates of their appearance
attest to the fruitful reciprocity
between work in that field and in
the sociology of science. Since
"knowledge" is more inclusive than
"scientific knowledge," the latter
must constitute the more specialized
focus of attention; one conclusion
that can be drawn from these (and
other) papers is that Merton has
been at pains since the first of his
work to keep the distinction aud
connection between the two explicit
and analytically useful.
The papers are arranged here,
without regard for chronology, to
trace a line of thought that extends
from a concern with pure theory
to a vivid awareness of the concrete
moral dilemmas faced by individual
men aud women of knowledge.
After all, it is not often the case
that scholars and scientists see,
from the outset, all of the phases
in a developing line of reasoning
and then focus on each one in logical
sequence. Rather, the stages are
''filled in" as occasion aud opportunity allow, and it is the task of
hindsight to discern the underlying
order that knits them together.
The section begins with Merton's
examination of the condition of
the sociology of knowledge circa
1945, in which he argues that its
fixation on the one problem of
the "existential basis of mental
Prefatory Note
Paradigm
for the
Sociology of
Knowledge
1945
infusion from the will and affections; whence proceed sciences which may
be called 'sciences as one would.' " And Nietzsche had set down a host of
aphorisms on the ways in which needs determined the perspectives through
which we interpret the world so that even sense perceptions are permeated
with value-preferences. The antecedents of Wissenssoziologie only go to
support Whitehead's observation that "to come very near to a true theory,
and to grasp its precise application, are two very different things, as the
history of science teaches us. Everything of importance has been said
before by somebody who did not discover it."
The Social Context
Quite apart from its historical and intellectual origins, there is the further
question of the basis of contemporary interest in the sociology of knowledge. As is well known, the sociology of knowledge, as a distinct discipline,
has been especially cultivated in Germany and France. Only within the
last decades have American sociologists come to devote increasing attention
to problems in this area. The growth of publications and, as a decisive test
of its academic respectability, the increasing number of doctoral dissertations in the field partly testify to this rise of interest.
An immediate and obviously inadequate explanation of this development
would point to the recent transfer of European sociological thought by
sociologists who have lately come to this country. To be sure, these scholars
were among the culture-bearers of Wissenssoziologie. But this merely
provided availability of these conceptions and no more accounts for their
actual acceptance than would mere availability in any other instance of
culture diffusion. American thought proved receptive to the sociology of
knowledge largely because it dealt with problems, concepts, and theories
that are increasingly pertinent to our contemporary social situation, because our society has come to have certain characteristics of those European societies in which the discipline was initially developed.
The sociology of knowledge takes on pertinence under a definite complex
of social and cultural conditions. 2 With increasing social conflict, differences in the values, attitudes, and modes of thought of groups develop to
the point where the orientation which these groups previously had in
common is overshadowed by incompatible differences. Not only do there
develop distinct universes of discourse, but the existence of any one
universe challenges the validity and legitimacy of the others. The coexistence of these conflicting perspectives and interpretations within the
same society leads to an active and reciprocal distrust between groups.
2. See Karl Mannheim, Ideology and Utopia, pp. 5-12; Pitirim A. Sorokin, Social
and Cultural Dynamics, 4 vols. (New York: American Book Co., 1937), 2: 412-13.
10
these contexts to refer to beliefs, ideas, and thought: vital lies, myths,
illusions, derivations, folklore, rationalizations, ideologies, verbal fa~ade,
pseudo-reasons, and so on.
What these schemes of analysis have in common is the practice of
discounting the face value of statements, beliefs, and idea-systems by
reexamining them within a new context which supplies the "real meaning."
Statements ordinarily viewed in terms of their manifest content are debunked, whatever the intention of the analyst, by relating this content to
attributes of the speaker or of the society in which he lives. The professional iconoclast, the trained debunker, the ideological analyst and their
respective systems of thought thrive in a society where large groups of
people have already become alienated from common values; where separate
universes of discourse are linked with reciprocal distrust. Ideological
analysis systematizes the lack of faith in reigning symbols which has
become widespread; hence its pertinence and popularity. The ideological
analyst does not so much create a following as he speaks for a following
to whom his analyses "make sense," that is, conform to their previously
unanalyzed experience. 4
In a society where reciprocal distrust finds such folk-expression as
"what's in it for him?"; where "buncombe" and "bunk" have been idiom
for nearly a century and "debunk" for a generation; where advertising and
propaganda have generated active resistance to the acceptance of statements at face-value; where pseudo-Gemeinschaft behavior as a device for
improving one's economic and political position is documented in a best
seller on how to win friends who may be influenced; where social relationships are increasingly instrumentalized so that the individual comes to
view others as seeking primarily to control, manipulate, and exploit him;
where growing cynicism involves a progressive detachment from significant
group relationships and a considerable degree of self-estrangement; where
uncertainty about one's own motives is voiced in the indecisive phrase,
"I may be rationalizing, but . . . "; where defenses against traumatic
disillusionment may consist in remaining permanently disillusioned by
reducing expectations about the integrity of others through discounting
their motives and abilities in advance;-in such a society, systematic
ideological analysis and a derived sociology of knowledge take on a
4. The concept of pertinence was assumed by the Marxist harbingers of Wissenssoziologie. "The theoretical conclusions of the Communists are in no way based on
ideas or principles that have been invented, or discovered, by this or that would-be
universal reformer. They merely express, in general terms, the actual relations springing from an existing class struggle, from a historical movement going on under our
very eyes" (Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, The Communist Manifesto, in Karl
Marx, Selected Works, 2 vols. [Moscow: Co-operative Publishing Society, 1935], 1:
219 [italics added]).
11
12
13
14
15
special conditions of its emancipation are the general conditions through which
alone modem society can be saved and the class struggle avoided. Just as little
must one imagine that the democratic representatives are all shopkeepers or
are full of enthusiasm for them. So far as their education and their individual
position are concerned, they may be as widely separated from them as heaven
from earth. What makes them representatives of the petty bourgeosie is the
fact that in their minds [im Kopfe] they do not exceed the limits which the latter
do not exceed in their life activities, that they are consequently driven to the
same problems and solutions in theory to which material interest and social
position drive the latter in practice. This is ueberhaupt, the relationship of the
political and literary representatives of a class to the class which they represent. 8
But if we cannot derive ideas from the objective class position of their
exponents, this leaves a wide margin of indeterminacy. It then becomes a
further problem to discover why some identify themselves with the characteristic outlook of the class stratum in which they objectively find themselves whereas others adopt the presuppositions of a class stratum other
than "their own." An empirical description of the fact is no adequate
substitute for its theoretical explanation.
In dealing with existential bases, Max Scheler characteristically places
his own hypothesis in opposition to other prevalent theories. 9 He draws
a distinction between cultural sociology and what he calls the sociology
of real factors (Realsoziologie). Cultural data are "ideal," in the realm of
ideas and values: "real factors" are oriented toward effecting changes in
the reality of nature or society. The former are defined by ideal goals or
intentions; the latter derive from an "impulse structure" (Triebstruktur,
for example, sex, hunger, power) . It is a basic error, he holds, of all
naturalistic theories to maintain that real factors-whether race, geopolitics, political power structure, or the relations of economic production
-unequivocally determine the realm of meaningful ideas. He also rejects
all ideological, spiritualistic, and personalistic conceptions which err in
viewing the history of existential conditions as a unilinear unfolding of the
history of mind. He ascribes complete autonomy and a determinate sequence to these real factors, though he inconsistently holds that valueladen ideas serve to guide and direct their development. Ideas as such
initially have no social effectiveness. The "purer" the idea, the greater its
8. Karl Marx, Der achtzehnte Brumaire des Louis Bonaparte (Hamburg, 1885),
p. 36 (italics inserted).
9. This account is based upon Max Scheler's most elaborate discussion, "Probleme
einer Soziologie des Wissens," in his Die Wissensformen und die Gesellschaft (Leipzig: Der Neue-Geist Verlag, 1926), pp. 1-229. This essay is an extended and improved version of an essay in his Versuche zu einer Soziologie des Wissens (Munich:
Duncker und Humblot, 1924), pp. 5-146. For further discussions of Scheler, seeP. A.
Schillp, "The Formal Problems of Scheler's Sociology of Knowledge," The Philosophical Review 36 (March 1927): 101-20; Howard Becker and H. Otto Dahlke,
"Max Scheler's Sociology of Knowledge," Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 2 (March 1942): 310-22.
16
17
-generations, status groups, sects, occupational groups-and their characteristic modes of thought that there can be found an existential basis
corresponding to the great variety of perspectives and knowledge which
actually obtain. 12
Though representing a different tradition, this is substantially the position taken by Durkheim. In an early study with Mauss of primitive forms
of classification, he maintained that the genesis of the categories of thought
is to be found in the group structure and relations and that the categories
vary with changes in the social organization. 13 In seeking to account for
the social origins of the categories, Durkheim postulates that individuals
are more directly and inclusively oriented toward the groups in which they
live than they are toward nature. The primarily significant experiences are
mediated through social relationships, which leave their impress on the
character of thought and knowledge. 14 Thus, in his study of primitive forms
of thought, he deals with the periodic recurrence of social activities (ceremonies, feasts, rites), the clan structure, and the spatial configurations of
group meetings as among the existential bases of thought. And, applying
Durkheim's formulations to ancient Chinese thought, Granet attributes
their typical conceptions of time and space to such bases as the feudal
organization and the rhythmic alternation of concentrated and dispersed
group life. 15
In sharp distinction from the foregoing conceptions of existential bases
is Sorokin's idealistic and emanationist theory, which seeks to derive every
aspect of knowledge, not from an existential social basis, but from varying
"culture mentalities." These mentalities are constructed of "major premises": thus, the ideational mentality conceives of reality as "non-material,
ever-lasting Being"; its needs as primarily spiritual and their full satisfaction through "self imposed minimization or elimination of most physical
needs." 16 Contrariwise, the sensate mentality limits reality to what can be
perceived through the senses, it is primarily concerned with physical needs
which it seeks to satisfy to a maximum, not through self-modification, but
12. Karl Mannheim, Ideology and Utopia, pp. 247-48. In view of the recent extensive discussions of Mannheim's work, it will not be treated at length in this essay.
13. Emile Durkheim and Marcel Mauss, "De quelques formes primitives de
classification," L'Annee Sociologique 6 (1901-2): 1-72: " ... even ideas as abstract
as those of time and space are, at each moment of their history, in close relation with
the corresponding social organization." As Marcel Granet has indicated, this paper
contains some pages on Chinese thought which have been held by specialists to mark
a new era in the field of sinological studies.
14. Emile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life, pp. 443-44;
see also Hans Kelsen, Society and Nature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1943), p. 30.
15. Marcel Granet, La pensee chinoise (Paris: La Renaissance du Livre, 1934),
for example, pp. 84-104.
16. Sorokin, Social and Cultural Dynamics, 1: 72-73.
18
through change of the external world. The chief intermediate type of mentality is the idealistic, which represents a virtual balance of the foregoing
types. It is these mentalities, that is, the major premises of each culture,
from which systems of truth and knowledge are derived. And here we
come to the self-contained emanationism of an idealistic position: it appears plainly tautological to say, as Sorokin does, that "in a sensate society
and culture the Sensate system of truth based upon the testimony of the
organs of senses has to be dominant." 17 For sensate mentality has already
been defined as one conceiving of "reality as only that which is presented
to the sense organs." 18
Moreover, an emanationist phrasing such as this bypasses some of the
basic questions raised by other approaches to the analysis of existential
conditions. Thus, Sorokin considers the failure of the sensate "system of
truth" (empiricism) to monopolize a sensate culture as evidence that the
culture is not "fully integrated." But this surrenders inquiry into the bases
of those very differences of thought with which our contemporary world
is concerned. This is true of other categories and principles of knowledge
for which he seeks to apply a sociological accounting. For example, in our
present sensate culture, he finds that "materialism" is less prevalent than
"idealism," and that "temporalism" and "eternalism" are almost equally current; so, too, with "realism" and "nominalism," "singularism" and "universalism," and so on. Since there are these diversities within a culture, the
overall characterization of the culture as sensate provides no basis for
indicating which groups subscribe to one mode of thought, and which to
another. Sorokin does not systematically explore varying existential bases
within a society or culture; he looks to the "dominant" tendencies and
imputes these to the culture as a whole. 19 Our contemporary society, quite
apart from the differences of intellectual outlook of divers classes and
groups, is viewed as an integral exemplification of sensate culture. On its
own premises, Sorokin's approach is primarily suited for an overall characterization of cultures, not for analyzing connections between varied
existential conditions and thought within a society.
Types of Knowledge
Even a cursory survey is enough to show that the term "knowledge" has
been so broadly conceived as to refer to every type of idea and every mode
17. Ibid., 2: 5.
18. Ibid., 1: 73.
19. One "exception" to this practice is found in his contrast between the prevalent
tendency of the "clergy and religious landed aristocracy to become the leading and
organizing classes in the Ideational, and the capitalistic bourgeoisie, intelligentsia,
professionals, and secular officials in the Sensate culture" (ibid., 3: 250). And see his
account of the diffusion of culture among social classes (ibid., 4: 221 ff).
19
chapter 6.
21. This is presumably the ground for Scheler's remark: "A specific thesis of the
economic conception of history is the subsumption of the laws of development of
all knowledge under the laws of development of ideologies." Die Wissensformen, p.
21.
22. Engels, letter to Conrad Schmidt, 27 October 1890, in Marx, Selected Works,
1: 385.
20
21
the sensuous activity of men. " 27 Along the same lines, Engels asserts that
the appearance of Marx's materialistic conception of history was itself
determined by "necessity," as is indicated by similar views appearing
among English and French historians at the time and by Morgan's independent discovery of the same conception. 28
He goes even further to maintain that socialist theory is itself a proletarian "reflection" of modern class conflict, so that here, at least, the very
content of "scientific thought" is held to be socially determined, 29 without
vitiating its validity.
There was an incipient tendency in Marxism, then, to consider natural
science as standing in a relation to the economic base different from that
of other spheres of knowledge and belief. In science, the focus of attention
may be socially determined but not, presumably, its conceptual apparatus.
In this respect, the social sciences were sometimes held to differ significantly from the natural sciences. Social science tended to be assimilated
to the sphere of ideology, a tendency developed by later Marxists into the
questionable thesis of a class-bound social science which is inevitably tendentious30 and into the claim that only "proletarian science" has valid
insight into certain aspects of social reality. 31
Mannheim follows in the Marxist tradition to the extent of exempting
the "exact sciences" and "formal knowledge" from existential determina27. Marx and Engels, The German Ideology, p. 36 (italics added). See also
Engels, Socialism: Utopian and Scientific (Chicago: C. H. Kerr, 1910), pp. 24-25,
where the needs of a rising middle class are held to account for the revival of science.
The assertion that "only" trade and industry provide the aims is typical of the extreme, and untested, statements of relationships which prevail especially in the early
Marxist writings. Such terms as "determination" cannot be taken at their face value;
they are characteristically used very loosely. The actual extent of such relationships
between intellectual activity and the material foundations were not investigated by
either Marx or Engels.
28. Engels, in Marx, Selected Works, 1: 393. The occurrence of parallel independent discoveries and inventions as "proof" of the social determination of knowledge was a repeated theme throughout the nineteenth century. As early as 1828,
Macaulay in his essay on Dryden had noted concerning Newton's and Leibniz's invention of the calculus: "Mathematical science, indeed, had reached such a point, that
if neither of them had existed, the principle must inevitably have occurred to some
person within a few years." He cites other cases in point. Victorian manufacturers
shared the same view with Marx and Engels. In our own day, this thesis, based on
independent duplicate inventions, has been especially emphasized by Dorothy
Thomas, Ogburn, and Vierkandt.
29. Engels, Socialism: Utopian and Scientific, p. 97.
30. V. I. Lenin, "The Three Sources and Three Component Parts of Marxism," in
Marx, Selected Works, 1: 54.
31. Nikolai Bukharin, Historical Materialism (New York: International Publishers, 1925), pp. xi-xii; B. Hessen in Science at the Cross-Roads (London: Kniga,
1932), p. 154; A. I. Timeniev in Marxism and Modern Thought (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1935), p. 310; "Only Marxism, only the ideology of the advanced
revolutionary class is scientific."
22
tion but not "historical, political and social science thinking as well as the
thought of everyday life." 32 Social position determines the "perspective,"
that is, "the manner in which one views an object, what one perceives in
it, and how one construes it in his thinking." The situational determination
of thought does not render it invalid; it does, however, particularize the
scope of the inquiry and the limits of its validity. 33
If Marx did not sharply differentiate the superstructure, Scheler goes to
the other extreme. He distinguishes a variety of forms of knowledge. To
begin with, there are the "relatively natural Weltanschauungen": that which
is accepted as given, as neither requiring nor being capable of justification.
These are, so to speak, the cultural axioms of groups; what Joseph Glanvill, some three hundred years ago, called a "climate of opinion." A
primary task of the sociology of knowledge is to discover the laws of
transformation of these Weltanschauungen. And since these outlooks are
by no means necessarily valid, it follows that the sociology of knowledge
is not concerned merely with tracing the existential bases of truth buf also
of "social illusion, superstition and socially conditioned errors and forms
of deception." 34
The Weltanschauungen constitute organic growths and develop only in
long time-spans. They are scarcely affected by theories. Without adequate
evidence, Scheler claims that they can be changed in any fundamental
sense only through race-mixture or conceivably through the "mixture" of
language and culture. Building upon these very slowly changing Weltanschauungen are the more "artificial" forms of knowledge which may be
ordered in seven classes, according to degree of artificiality: ( 1 ) myth
and legend; (2) knowledge implicit in the natural folk-language; (3) religious knowledge (ranging from the vague emotional intuition to the fixed
dogma of a church); ( 4) the basic types of mystical knowledge; (5) philosophical-metaphysical knowledge; ( 6) positive knowledge of mathematics,
the natural and cultural sciences; (7) technological knowledge. 35 The more
artificial these types of knowledge, the more rapidly they change. It is
evident, says Scheler, that religions change far more slowly than the various
metaphysics, and the latter persist for much longer periods than the results
of positive science, which change from hour to hour.
This hypothesis of rates of change bears some points of similarity to
Alfred Weber's thesis that civilizational change outruns cultural change
and to the Ogburn hypothesis that "material" factors change more rapidly
32. Mannheim, Ideology and Utopia, pp. 150, 243; Mannheim, "Die Bedeutung
der Konkurrenz im Gebiete des Geistigen," in Verhandlungen des 6. deutschen Soziologentages (Tuebingen: 1929), p. 41.
33. Mannheim, Ideology and Utopia, pp. 256, 264.
34. Scheler, Die Wissensformen, pp. 59-61.
35. Ibid., p. 62.
23
24
mined by the set of absolute and timeless values which are implicit in the past
with which we are dealing. as
This is indeed counterrelativism by fiat. Merely asserting the distinction
between essence and existences avoids the incubus of relativism by exorcising it. The concept of eternal essences may be congenial to the metaphysician; it is wholly foreign to empirical inquiry. It is noteworthy that
these conceptions play no significant part in Scheler's empirical efforts to
establish relations between knowledge and society.
Scheler indicates that different types of knowledge are bound up with
particular forms of groups. The content of Plato's theory of ideas required
the form and organization of the platonic academy; so, too, the organization of Protestant churches and sects was determined by the content of
their beliefs which could exist only in this and in no other type of social
organization, as Troeltsch has shown. And, similarly, Gemeinschaft types
of society have a traditionally defined fund of knowledge which is handed
down as conclusive; they are not concerned with discovering or extending
knowledge. The very effort to test the traditional knowledge, in so far as
it implies doubt, is ruled out as virtually blasphemous. In such a group,
the prevailing logic and mode of thought is that of an "ars demonstrandi"
not of an "ars inveniendi." Its methods are prevailingly ontological and
dogmatic, not epistemologic and critical; its mode of thought is that of
conceptual realism, not nominalistic as in the Gesellschaft type of organization; its system of categories, organismic and not mechanistic. 39
Durkheim extends sociological inquiry into the social genesis of the
categories of thought, basing his hypothesis on three types of presumptive
evidence. ( 1) The fact of cultural variation in the categories and the rules
of logic "prove that they depend upon factors that are historical and consequently social."40 (2) Since concepts are imbedded in the very language
the individual acquires (and this holds as well for the special terminology
of the scientist) and since some of these conceptual terms refer to things
which we, as individuals, have never experienced, it is clear that they are
a product of the society. 41 And ( 3), the acceptance or rejection of concepts is not determined merely by their objective validity but also by their
consistency with other prevailing beliefs.42
38. Maurice Mandelbaum, The Problem of Historical Knowledge (New York:
Liveright, 1938), p. 150; Sorokin posits a similar sphere of "timeless ideas," e.g., in
his Sociocultural Causality, Space, Time (Durham: Duke University Press, 1943),
pp. 215, passim.
39. Scheler, Die Wissensformen, pp. 22-23; compare a similar characterization of
"sacred schools" of thought by Florian Znaniecki, The Social Role of the Man of
Knowledge (New York: Columbia University Press, 1940), chap. 3.
40. Durkheim, Elementary Forms, pp. 12, 18, 439.
41. Ibid., pp. 433-35.
42. Ibid., p. 438.
25
26
27
28
29
A partial empirical account of false consciousness, implied in the Manifesto, rests on the view that the bourgeoisie control the content of culture
and thus diffuse doctrines and standards alien to the interests of the proletariat. 53 Or, in more general terms, "the ruling ideas of each age have ever
been the ideas of its ruling class." But this is only a partial account; at
most it deals with the false consciousness of the subordinated class. It
might, for example, partly explain the fact noted by Marx that even where
the peasant proprietor "does belong to the proletariat by his position he
does not believe that he does." It would not, however, be pertinent in
seeking to account for the false consciousness of the ruling class itself.
Another, though not clearly formulated, theme which bears upon the
problem of false consciousness runs throughout Marxist theory. This is
the conception of ideology as being an unwitting, unconscious expression
of "real motives," these being in turn construed in terms of the objective
interests of social classes. Thus, there is repeated stress on the unwitting
nature of ideologies: "Ideology is a process accomplished by the so-called
thinker consciously indeed but with a false consciousness. The real motives
impelling him remain unknown to him, otherwise it would not be an ideological process at all. Hence he imagines false or apparent motives." 54
The ambiguity of the term "correspondence" to refer to the connection
between the material basis and the idea can only be overlooked by the
polemical enthusiast. Ideologies are construed as "distortions of the social
situation";55 as merely "expressive" of the material conditions;56 and,
whether "distorted" or not, as motivational support for carrying through
real changes in the society. 57 It is at this last point, when "illusory" beliefs
are conceded to provide motivation for action, that Marxism ascribes a
measure of independence to ideologies in the historical process. They are
no longer merely epiphenomenal. They enjoy a measure of autonomy.
From this develops the notion of interacting factors in which the superstructure, though interdependent with the material basis, is also assumed
53. Marx and Engels, The German Ideology, p. 39: "In so far as they rule as a
class and determine the extent and compass of an epoch, it is self-evident that they
do this in their whole range, hence among other things rule also as thinkers, as producers of ideas, and regulate the production and distribution of the ideas of their
age."
54. Engels' letter to Mehring, 14 July 1893, in Marx, Selected Works, 1: 388-89;
cf. Marx, Der achtzehnte Brumaire, p. 33; idem, Critique of Political Economy, p.
12.
55. Marx, Der achtzehnte Brumaire, p. 39, where the democratic Montagnards
indulge in self-deception.
56. Engels, Socialism: Utopian and Scientific, pp. 26-27. Cf. Engels, Feuerbach,
pp. 122-23: "The failure to exterminate the Protestant heresy corresponded to the
invincibility of the rising bourgeoisie .... Here Calvinism proved itself to be the true
religious disguise of the interests of the bourgeoisie of that time" (italics added).
57. Marx grants motivational significance to the "illusions" of the burgeoning
bourgeoisie, in Der achtzehnte Brumaire, p. 8.
30
31
32
Ibid., p. 440.
Scheler, Die Wissensformen, p. 32.
Ibid, p. 56.
Ibid., p. 25; cf. pp. 482-84.
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
Znaniecki's
The Social Role
of the Man of
Knowledge
1941
42
1. Conservative:
2. Novationist:
(a) "Standpatter"
(a) Oppositionist
(b) Meliorist
(b) Revolutionary
43
44
even list these relations, but one or two instances will serve to illustrate
the systematic findings.
A convincing demonstration of the value of Znaniecki's approach is
found in his suggestive though brief resume of the various attitudes toward
"new unanticipated facts" of those who perform different intellectual roles.
It should be noted that these divers attitudes can be "understood" (or
"derived") from the particular role-systems in which the men of knowledge
participate; it is, in other words, an analysis of the ways in which various
social structures exert pressures for the adoption of certain attitudes toward new empirical data. The specialized interest in the finding of new
facts is construed as a revolt against established systems of thought which
have persisted largely because they have not been confronted with fresh
stubborn facts. Later, to be sure, even this "rebellious" activity becomes
institutionalized, but it arises initially in opposition to established and
vested intellectual systems. The technological leader regards genuinelynew
facts with suspicion, for they may destroy belief in the rationality of his
established plans, or show the inefficiency of his plans, or disclose undesirable consequences of his program. New facts within the compass of
his activity threaten his status. The technological expert, under the control
of the leader, is circumscribed in new fact-finding lest he discover facts
which are unwelcome to the powers that be. (See, for example, the suppression of new but "unwanted" inventions.) The sage, with his predetermined conclusions, has no use for the impartial observer of new facts
which might embarrass his tendentious views. Scholars have positive or
negative attitudes toward genuinely new facts, depending upon the extent
to which the schools' system is established: in the initial stages new facts
are at least acceptable, but once the system is fully formulated the inte!lectual commitment of the school precludes a favorable attitude toward novel
findings. Thus, "a discoverer of facts, freely roaming in search of the unexpected, has no place in a milieu of scientists with well-regulated tniditional roles." Znaniecki provides a pioneering analysis of the kind of
intellectual neophobia which Pareto largely treated as given rather than
problematical.
In similar fashion, Znaniecki shows how rivalry between schools of
sacred thought leads to secularization. The most general theorem holds that
conflict, as a type of social interaction, leads to the partial secularization of
sacred knowledge in at least three ways. First, the usual appeal to sacred
authority cannot function in the conflict situation, inasmuch as the rival
schools either accept different sacred traditions or interpret the same
tradition diversely. "Rational analysis" is adopted as an impartial arbiter.
Secondly, members of the outgroup (nonbelievers) must be persuaded that
their own faiths are suspect and that another faith has more to commend
it. This again involves rational or pseudorational argument, since there is
45
46
Social Conflict
Over Styles of
Sociological
Work
1961
After enjoying more than two generations of scholarly interest, the sociology of knowledge remains largely a subject for meditation rather than a
field of sustained and methodical investigation. This has resulted in the
curious condition that more monographs and papers are devoted to discussions of what the sociology of knowledge is and what it ought to be than
to detailed inquiries into specific problems.
What is true of the sociology of knowledge at large is conspicuously
true of the part concerned with the analysis of the course and character
taken by sociology itself. This, at least, is the composite verdict of the
jury of twelve who have reviewed .for us the social contexts of sociology
in countries all over the world. Almost without exception, the authors of
these papers report (or intimate) that, for their own country, they could
find only fragmentary evidence on which to draw for their account. They
emphasize the tentative and hazardous nature of interpretations based on
such slight foundations. It follows that my own paper, drawing upon the
basic papers on national sociologies, must be even more tentative and
conjectural.
In effect, these authors tell us that they have been forced to resort to
loose generalities rather than being in a position to report firmly grounded
generalizations. Generalities are vague and indeterminate statements that
bring together particulars which are not really comparable; generalizations
report definite though general regularities distilled from the methodical
comparison of comparable data. We all know the kind of generalities
found in the sociology of knowledge: that societies with sharp social
Originally published in Fourth World Congress of Sociology, Transactions (Louvain,
Belgium: International Sociological Association, 1961), 3:21-46; reprinted with
permission.
48
cleavages, as allegedly in France, are more apt to cultivate sociology intensively than societies with a long history of a more nearly uniform valuesystem, as allegedly in England; that a rising social class is constrained to
see the social reality more authentically than a class long in power but
now on the way out; that an upper class will focus on the static aspects of
society and a lower one on its dynamic, changing aspects; that an upper
class wiii be alert to the functions of existing social arrangements and a
lower class to their dysfunctions; or, to take one last familiar generality,
that socially conservative groups hold to multiple-factor doctrines of historical causation and socially radical groups to monistic doctrines. These
and comparable statements may be true or not, but as the authors of the
national reports remind us, we cannot say, for these are not typically the
result of systematic investigations. They are, at best, impressions derived
from a few particulars selected to make the point.
It will be granted that we sociologists cannot afford the dubious luxury
of a double standard of scholarship; one requiring the systematic collection
of comparable data when dealing with complex problems, say, of social
stratification, and another accepting the use of piecemeal illustrations when
dealing with the no less complex problems of the sociology of knowledge.
It might well be, therefore, that the chief outcome of this first session of
the congress will be to arrange for a comparative investigation of sociology
in its social contexts similar to the investigation of social stratification that
the Association has already launched. The problems formulated in the
national papers and the substantial gaps in needed data uncovered by them
would be a useful prelude to such an undertaking.
The growth of a field of intellectual inquiry can be examined under three
aspects: as the historical filiation of ideas considered in their own right;
as affected by the structure of the society in which it is being developed;
and as affected by the social processes relating the men of knowledge
themselves. Other sessions of the congress will deal with the first when the
substance and methods of contemporary sociology are examined. In his
overview, Professor Aron considers the second by examining the impact
on sociology of the changing social structure external to it: industrialization, the organization of universities, the role of distinctive cultural traditions, and the like. He goes on to summarize the central tendencies of
certain national sociologies, principally those of the United States and the
Soviet Union, and assesses their strengths and weaknesses. Rather than go
over much the same ground to arrive at much the same observations, I
shall limit myself to the third of these aspects. I shall say little about the
social structure external to sociologists and focus instead on some social
processes internal to the development of sociology and in particular on the
role in that development played by social conflict between sociologists.
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There is reason to believe that patterns of social interaction among sociologists, as among other men of science and learning, affect the changing
contours of the discipline just as the cultural accumulation of knowledge
manifestly does. Juxtaposing the national papers gives us an occasion to
note the many substantial similarities if not identities in the development
of sociology in each country that underlie the sometimes more conspicuous
if not necessarily more thoroughgoing differences. These similarities are
noteworthy if only because of the great variability and sometimes profound
differences of social structure, cultural tradition, and contemporary values
among the twelve nations whose sociology has been reviewed. These
societies differ among themselves in the size of the underlying population,
in the character of their systems of social stratification, in the number,
organization, and distribution of their institutions of higher learning, in
their economic organization and the state of their technology, in their
current and past political structure, in their religious and national traditions, in the social composition of their intellectuals, and so on through
other relevant bases of comparison. In view of these diversities of social
structure, it is striking that there are any similarities in the course sociology has taken in these societies. All this suggests that a focus on the
social processes internal to sociology as a partly autonomous domain can
help us to understand a little better the similarities of sociological work in
differing societies. It may at the least help us identify some of the problems that could be profitably taken up in those monographs on the sociological history of sociology that have yet to be written. 1
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The beginnings of sociology are of course found in the antecedent disciplines from which it split off. The differentiation differs in detail but has
much the same general character in country after country. In England, we
are told, sociology derived chiefly from political economy, social administration, and philosophy. In Germany, it shared some of these antecedents
as well as an important one in comparative law. In France, its roots were
in philosophy and, for a time, in the psychologies that were emerging. Its
varied ancestry in the United States included a concern with practical
reform, economics, and, in some degree, anthropology. Or, to tum to some
countries which have been described by their reporters as "sociologically
underdeveloped," in Yugoslavia, sociology became gradually differentiated
from ethnology, the history of law, and anthropogeography; in Spain, it
was long an appendage of philosophy, especially the philosophy of history.
The Latin American countries saw sociology differentiated from jurisprudence, traditionally bound up as it was with an interest in the social contexts of law and the formation of law that came with the creation, in
these states, of governments of their own.
The process of differentiation had direct consequences for the early
emphasis in sociology. Since the founding fathers were self-taught in
sociology-the discipline was, after all, only what they declared it to bethey each found it incumbent to develop a classification of the sciences in
order to locate the distinctive place of sociology in the intellectual scheme
of things. Virtually every sociologist of any consequence throughout the
nineteenth century and partly into the twentieth proposed his own answers
to the socially induced question of the scope and nature of sociology and
saw it as his task to evolve his own system of sociology.
Whether sociology is said to have truly begun with Vico (to say nothing
of a more ancient lineage) or with St. Simon, Comte, Stein, or Marx is of
no great moment here, though it may be symptomatic of current allegiances in sociology. What is in point is that the nineteenth centuryto limit our reference-was the century of sociological systems not necessarily because the pioneering sociologists happened to be system-minded
men but because it was their role, at that time, to seek intellectual legitimacy for this "new science of a very ancient subject." In the situation
confronting them, when the very claim to legitimacy of a new discipline
had to be presented, there was little place for a basic interest in detailed
and delimited investigations of specific sociological problems. It was the
framework of sociological thought itself that had to be built and almost
everyone of the pioneers tried to fashion one for himself.
The banal flippancy tempts us to conclude that there were as many
sociological systems as there were sociologists in this early period. But of
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course this was not so. The very multiplicity of systems, each with its claim
to being the genuine sociology, led naturally enough to the formation of
schools, each with its masters, disciples, and epigoni. Sociology not only
became differentiated from other disciplines but became internally differentiated. This was not in terms of specialization but in the form of rival
claims to intellectual legitimacy, claims typically held to be mutually
exclusive and at odds. This is one of the roots of the kinds of social
conflict among sociologists today that we shall examine in a little detail.
Institutional legitimacy of sociology
If it was the founding fathers who initiated and defended the claim of
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53
As the institutional legitimacy of sociology becomes substantially acknowledged-which does not mean, of course, that it is entirely free from attack
-the pressure for separatism from other disciplines declines. No longer
challenged seriously as having a right to exist, sociology links up again
with some of its siblings. But since new conceptions and new problems
have meanwhile emerged, this does not necessarily mean reconsolidation
with the same disciplines from which sociology drew its origins in a particular country.
Patterns of collaboration between the social sciences differ somewhat
from country to country and it would be a further task for the monographs
on the sociology of sociology to try to account for these variations. Some
of these patterns are found repeatedly. In France, we are told, the longlasting connection between sociology and ethnology, which the Durkheim
group had welded together, has now become more tenuous, with sociologists being increasingly associated with psychologists, political scientists,
and geographers. In the United States, as another example, the major
collaboration is with psychology-social psychology being the area of
convergence-and with anthropology. Another cluster links sociology with
political science and, to some extent, with economics. There are visible
stirrings to renew the linkage, long attenuated in the United States, of
sociology with history. The events long precede their widespread recognition. At the very time that American graduate students of sociology are
learning to repeat the grievance that historical contexts have been lost to
view by systematic sociology, the national organization of sociologists
is devoting annual sessions to historical sociology and newer generations
of sociologists, such as Bellah, Smelser, and Diamond are removing the
occasion for the grievance through their work and their program.
Each of the various patterns of interdisciplinary collaboration has its
intellectual rationale. They are not merely the outcome of social forces.
However, these rationales are apt to be more convincing, I suggest, to
sociologists who find that their discipline is no longer on trial. It has become sufficiently legitimized that they no longer need maintain a defensive
posture of isolation. Under these social circumstances, interdisciplinary
work becomes a self-evident value and may even be exaggerated into a
cultish requirement.
Summary
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55
56
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that seems required for the nonreciprocation of affect to operate with regularity. This requires a differentiation of status between the parties, at least
with respect to the occasion giving rise to the expression of hostility. When
this status differentiation is present, as with the lawyer and his client or
the psychiatrist and his patient, the nonreciprocity of expressed feeling is
governed by a technical norm attached to the more authoritative status
in the relationship. But in scientific controversies, which typically take
place among a company of equals for the occasion (however much the
status of the parties might otherwise differ) and, moreover, which take
place in public, subject to the observation of peers, this structural basis
for nonreciprocation of affect is usually absent. Instead, rhetoric is met
with rhetoric, contempt with contempt, and the intellectual issues become
subordinated to the battle for status.
In these polarized controversies, also, there is usually little room for the
third, uncommitted party who might convert social conflict into intellectual
criticism. True, some sociologists in every country will not adopt the allor-none position that is expected in social conflict. They will not be drawn
into what are essentially disputes over the definition of the role of the
sociologist and over the allocation of intellectual resources though put
forward as conflicts of sociological ideas. But typically, these would-be
noncombatants are caught in the crossfire between the hostile camps. Depending on the partisan vocabulary of abuse that happens to prevail, they
become tagged either as "mere eclectics," with the epithet, by convention,
making it unnecessary to examine the question of what it asserts or how
far it holds true; or, they are renegades, who have abandoned the sociological truth; or, perhaps worst of all, they are mere middle-of-the-roaders
or fence-sitters who, through timidity or expediency, will not see that they
are fleeing from the fundamental conflict between unalloyed sociological
good and unalloyed sociological evil.
We all know the proverb that "conflict is the gadfly of truth." Now,
proverbs, that abiding source of social science for the millions, often express a part-truth just as they often obscure that truth by not referring to
the conditions under which it holds. This seems to be such a case. As we
have noted, in social conflict cognitive issues become warped and distorted
as they are pressed into the service of "scoring off the other fellow." Nevertheless, when the conflict is regulated by the community of peers, it has
its uses for the advancement of the discipline. With some regularity, it
seems to come into marked effect whenever a particular line of investigation-say, of small groups-or a particular set of ideas-say, functional
analysis-or a particular mode of inquiry-say, historical sociology or
social surveys-has engrossed the attention and energies of a large and
growing number of sociologists. Were it not for such conflict, the reign
of orthodoxies in sociology would be even more marked than it sometimes
is. Self-assertive claims that allegedly neglected problems, methods, and
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theoretical orientation merit more concerted attention than they are receiving may serve to diversify the work that gets done. With more room
for heterodoxy, there is more prospect of intellectually productive ventures,
until these develop into new orthodoxies.
Even with their frequent intellectual distortions (and possibly, sometimes because of them), polemics may help redress accumulative imbalances in scientific inquiry. No one knows, I suppose, what an optimum
distribution of resources in a field of inquiry would be, not least of all,
because of the ultimate disagreement over the criteria of the optimum. But
progressive concentrations of effort seem to evoke counterreactions, so
that less popular but intellectually and socially relevant problems, ideas,
and modes of inquiry do not fade out altogether. In social science as in
other fields of human effort, a line of development that has caught onperhaps because it has proved effective for dealing with certain problems
-attracts a growing proportion of newcomers to the field who perpetuate
and increase that concentration. With fewer recruits of high caliber, those
engaged in the currently unpopular fields will have a diminished capacity
to advance their work and with diminished accomplishments, they become
even less attractive. The noisy claims to underrecognition of particular
kinds of inquiry, even when accompanied by extravagantly rhetorical
attacks on the work that is being prevalently done, may keep needed intellectual variants from drying up and may curb a growing concentration
on a narrowly limited range of problems. At least, this possibility deserves
study by the sociologist of knowledge.
These few observations on social conflict, as distinct from intellectual
criticism, are commonplace enough, to begin with. It would be a pity if
they were banalized as asserting that peace between sociologists should
be sought at any price. When there is genuine opposition of ideas-when
one set of ideas plainly contradicts another-then agreement for the sake
of peaceful quiet would mean abandoning the sociological enterprise. I am
suggesting only that when we consider the current disagreements among
sociologists, we find that many of them are not so much cognitive oppositions as contrasting evaluations of the worth of one and another kind of
sociological work. They are bids for support by the social system of sociologists. For the sociologist of knowledge, these conflicts afford clues to the
alternatives from which the sociologists of each country are making their
deliberate or unwitting selection.
Types of Polemics in Sociology
These general remarks are intended as a guide to the several dozen foci
of conflict between sociologists. Let me comfort you by saying that I shall
not consider all of them here, nor is it necessary. Instead, I shall review
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two or three of them in a little detail and then merely identify some of the
rest for possible discussion.
The trivial and the important in sociology
Perhaps the most pervasive polemic, the one which, as I have implied,
underlies most of the rest, stems from the charge by some sociologists that
others are busily engaged in the study of trivia, while all about them the
truly significant problems of human society go unexamined. After all, so
this argument goes, while war and exploitation, poverty, injustice, and
insecurity plague the life of men in society or threaten their very existence,
many sociologists are fiddling with subjects so remote from these catastrophic troubles as to be irresponsibly trivial.
This charge typically assumes that it is the topic, the particular objects
under study, that fixes the importance or triviality of the investigation. This
is an old error that refuses to stay downed, as a glance at the history of
thought will remind us. To some of his contemporaries, Galileo and his
successors were obviously engaged in a trivial pastime, as they watched
balls rolling down inclined planes rather than attending to such really
important topics as means of improving ship construction that would
enlarge commerce and naval might. At about the same time, the Dutch
microscopist, Swammerdam, was the butt of ridicule by those far-seeing
critics who knew that sustained attention to his "tiny animals," the microorganisms, was an unimaginative focus on patently trivial minutiae. These
critics often had authoritative social support. Charles II, for example,
could join in the grand joke about the absurdity of trying to "weigh the
ayre," as he learned of the fundamental work on atmospheric pressure
which to his mind was nothing more than childish diversion and idle
amusement when compared with the Big Topics to which natural philosophers should attend. The history of science provides a long if not endless
list of instances of the easy confusion between the seemingly self-evident
triviality of the object under scrutiny and the cognitive significance of the
investigation.
Nevertheless, the same confusion periodically turns up anew in sociology. Consider the contributions of a Durkheim for a moment: his choice
of the division of labor in society, of its sources and consequences, would
no doubt pass muster as a significant subject, but what of the subject of
suicide? Pathetic as suicide may be for the immediate survivors, it can
seldom be included among the major troubles of a society. Yet we know
that Durkheim's analysis of suicide proved more consequential for sociology than his analysis of social differentiation; that it advanced our understanding of the major problem of how social structures generate behavior
that is at odds with the prescriptions of the culture, a problem that confronts every kind of social organization.
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You can add at will, from the history of sociology and other sciences,
instances which show that there is no necessary relation between the
socially ascribed importance of the object under examination and the
scope of its implications for an understanding of how society or nature
works. The social and the scientific significance of a subject matter can
be poles apart.
The reason for this is, of course, that ideally that empirical object is
selected for study which enables one to investigate a scientific problem
to particularly good advantage. Often, these intellectually strategic objects
hold little intrinsic interest, either for the investigator or anyone else.
Again, there is nothing peculiar to sociology here. Nor is one borrowing
the prestige of the better-established sciences by noting that all this is
taken for granted there. It is not an intrinsic interest in the fruit fly or the
bacteriophage that leads the geneticist to devote so much attention to them.
It is only that they have been found to provide strategic materials for
working out selected problems of genetic transmission. Comparing an
advanced field with a retarded one, we find much the same thing in sociology. Sociologists centering on such subjects as the immigrant, the stranger,
small groups, voting decisions, or the social organization of industrial
firms need not do so because of an intrinsic interest in them. They may be
chosen, instead, because they strategically exhibit such problems as those
of marginal men, reference group behavior, the social process of conformity, patterned sources of nonconformity, the social determination of
aggregated individual decisions, and the like.
When the charge of triviality is based on a common-sense appraisal of
the outer appearance of subject matter alone, it fails to recognize that a
major part of the intellectual task is to find the materials that are strategic
for getting to the heart of a problem. If we want to move toward a better
understanding of the roots and kinds of social conformity and the socially
induced sources of nonconformity, we must consider the types of concrete
situations in which these can be investigated to best advantage. It does not
mean a commitment to a particular object. It means answering questions
such as these: which aspects of conformity as a social process can be
observed most effectively in small, admittedly contrived, and adventitious
groups temporarily brought together in the laboratory but open to detailed
observations? which aspects of conformity can be better investigated in
established bureaucracies? and which require the comparative study of
organizations in different societies? So with sociological problems of every
kind: the forms of authority; the conditions under which power is converted into authority and authority into power; limits on the range of
variability among social institutions within particular societies; processes
of self-defeating and self-fulfilling cultural mandates; and so on.
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62
63
64
65
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Or, to take one last instance, Marx repeatedly noted that the patterns
of production-for example, in large-scale industry and among smallholding peasants-have each a distinctive social ecology. The spatial distribution of men on the job was held to affect the frequency and kind of
social interaction between them and this, in turn, to affect their political
outlook and the prospects of their collective organization. In these days,
a large body of investigation by non-Marxists, both in industrial and in
rural sociology, is centered on this same variable of the social ecology
of the job, together with its systemic consequences. But again, this continuity of problem and of informing idea tends to be obscured by conflicts
in political orientation. Detailed monographic study is needed to determine
the extent to which lines of sociological development fail to converge and
instead remain parallel because of ideological rather than theoretical
conflict.
Formal (abstract) and concrete sociology
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are changing-and conversely, that these models often grow out of and
are modified and judged by their applicability to selected aspects of concrete social events. With respect to this conflict, the sociology of knowledge
confronts such problems as that of finding out whether, as is commonly
said, formal sociology is linked with politically conservative orientations
and concrete sociology with politically radical orientations. Furthermore,
how this social cleavage affects the prospects of methodical interplay between the two types of sociology.
A short miscellany of sociological conflicts
There is time only to list and not at all to discuss a few more of the current
conflicts in sociology.
The microscopic and the macroscopic. More than ever before, conflict is
focused on the social units singled out for investigation. This is often
described by the catchwords of "microscopic" and "macroscopic" sociology. The industrial firm is said to be studied in isolation from the larger
economic and social system or, even more, particular groups within the
single plant are observed apart from their relations with the rest of the
organization and the community. A microscopic focus is said to lead to
"sociology without society." A counteremphasis centers on the laws of
evolution of "the total society." Here, the prevailing critique asserts that
the hypotheses are put so loosely that no set of observations can be taken
to negate them. They are invulnerable to disproof and so, rather a matter
of faith than of knowledge.
Experiment and natural history in sociology. A parallel cleavage has developed between commitment to experimental sociology, typically though
not invariably dealing with contrived or "artificial" small groups, and
commitment to study of the natural history of groups or social systems.
Perhaps the instructive analogue here is to be found in the well-known
fact that Darwin and Wallace found certain problems forced upon their
attention when they reflected on what they saw in nature "on the large, on
the outdoor scale" but that they failed to see other related problems that
came into focus for the laboratory naturalists. Polarization into mutually
exclusive alternatives served little purpose there and it remains to be seen
whether it will prove any more effective in the advancement of sociology.
Reference-groups of sociologists. Conflict is found also in the sometimes
implicit selection of reference-groups and audiences by sociologists. Some
direct themselves primarily to the literati or to the "educated general
public"; others, to the so-called men of affairs who manage economic or
political organizations; while most are oriented primarily to their fellow
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converting sociology into social psychology, with the result that the study
of social institutions is fading into obscurity. The trend toward social
psychology is said to be bound up with an excessive emphasis on the
subjective element in social action, with a focus on men's attitudes and
sentiments at the expense of considering the institutional conditions for
the emergence and the effective or ineffective expression of these attitudes.
To this, the polarized response holds that social. institutions comprise an
idle construct until they are linked up empirically with the actual attitudes
and values and the actual behavior of men, whether this is conceived as
purposive or as also unwitting, as decisions or as responses. These sociologists consider the division between the two disciplines an unfortunate
artifact of academic organization. And again, apart from the merits of
one or the other position, we have much to learn about the social bases for
their being maintained by some and rejected by others.
A Concluding Observation
In the final remark on these and the many other lines of cleavage among
sociologists, I should like to apply a formulation about the structure of
social conflict in relation to the intensity of conflict that was clearly stated
by Georg Simmel and Edward Ross. This is the hypothesis, in the words
of Ross, that
a society . . . which is riven by a dozen . . . (conflicts) along lines running in
every direction, may actually be in less danger of being torn with violence or
falling to pieces than one split along just one line. For each new cleavage
contributes to narrow the cross clefts, so that one might say that society
is sewn togeher by its inner conflicts.
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It is a hypothesis borne out by its own history, for since it was set forth
by Simmel and by Ross, it has been taken up or independently originated
by some scores of sociologists, many of whom take diametrically opposed
positions on some of the issues we have reviewed. (I mention only a few
of these: Wiese and Becker, Hiller, Myrdal, Parsons, Berelson, Lazarsfeld
and McPhee, Robin Williams, Coser, Dahrendorf, Coleman, Lipset and
Zelditch, and among the great number of recent students of "statusdiscrepancy," Lenski, Adams, Stogdill, and Hemphill.)
Applied to our own society of sociologists, the Simmel-Ross hypothesis
has this to say. If the sociologists of one nation take much the same
position on each of these many issues while the sociologists of another
nation consistently hold to the opposed position on them all, then the lines
of cleavage will have become so consolidated along a single axis that any
conversation between the sociologists of these different nations will be
pointless. But if, as I believe is the case, there is not this uniformity of
outlook among the sociologists of each nation; if individual sociologists
have different combinations of position on these and kindred issues, then
effective intellectual criticism can supplant social conflict.
That is why the extent of heterodoxies among the sociologists of each
nation has an important bearing on the future development of world sociology. The heterodoxies in one nation provide intellectual linkages with
orthodoxies in other nations. On the worldwide scale of sociology, this
bridges lines of cleavage and makes for the advance of sociological science
rather than of sociological ideologies.