Social Organization

[My comments are in brackets and italics.]

From Emile Durkheim, The Division of Labor in Society, (Translated by George Simpson). by New York: The Free Press, 1947.

 

http://www2.pfeiffer.edu/~lridener/DSS/Durkheim/DIVLABOR.HTML

 

The Division of Labor

 

1.  [We] shall recognize only two kinds of positive solidarity which are distinguishable by the following qualities:

 

2. The first binds the individual directly to society without any intermediary. In the second, he depends upon society, because he depends upon the parts of which it is composed.

 

3. Society is not seen in the same aspect in the two cases. In the first, what we call society is a more or less organized totality of beliefs and sentiments common to all the members of the group: this is the collective type. [Culture] On the other hand, the society in which we are solidary in the second instance is a system of different, special functions which definite relations unite. [Social organization/division of labor.] These two societies really make up only one. They are two aspects of one and the same reality, but none the less they must be distinguished.

 

4. From this second difference there arises another which helps us to characterize and name the two kinds of solidarity.

 

The first can be strong only if the ideas and tendencies common to all the members of the society are greater in number and intensity than those which pertain personally to each member. It is as much stronger as the excess is more considerable. But what makes our personality is how much of our own individual qualities we have, what distinguishes us from others. This solidarity can grow only in inverse ratio to personality. There are in each of us, as we have said, two consciences: one which is common to our group in its entirety, which, consequently, is not ourself, but society living and acting within us; the other, on the contrary, represents that in us which is personal and distinct, that which makes us an individual. 

 

5.  Solidarity which comes from likenesses is at its maximum when the collective conscience completely envelops our whole conscience and coincides in all points with it. But, at that moment, our individuality is nil. It can be born only if the community takes smaller toll of us. There are, here, two contrary forces, one centripetal, the other centrifugal, which cannot flourish at the same time. We cannot, at one and the same time, develop ourselves in two opposite senses. If we have a lively desire to think and act for ourselves, we cannot be strongly inclined to think and act as others do. If our ideal is to present a singular and personal appearance, we do not want to resemble everybody else. Moreover, at the moment when this solidarity exercises its force, our personality vanishes, as our definition permits us to say, for we are no longer ourselves, but the collective life.

 

6.  The social molecules which can be coherent in this way can act together only in the measure that they have no actions of their own, as the molecules of inorganic bodies. That is why we propose to call this type of solidarity mechanical. The term does not signify that it is produced by mechanical and artificial means. We call it that only by analogy to the cohesion which unites the elements of an inanimate body, as opposed to that which makes a unity out of the elements of a living body. What justifies this term is that the link which thus unites the individual to society is wholly analogous to that which attaches a thing to a person. The individual conscience, considered in this light, is a simple dependent upon the collective type and follows all of its movements, as the possessed object follows those of its owner. In societies where this type of solidarity is highly developed, the individual does not appear, as we shall see later. Individuality is something which the society possesses. Thus, in these social types, personal rights are not yet distinguished from real rights.

 

It is quite otherwise with the solidarity which the division of labor produces. Whereas the previous type implies that individuals resemble each other, this type presumes their difference. The first is possible only in so far as the individual personality is absorbed into the collective personality; the second is possible only if each one has a sphere of action which is peculiar to him; that is, a personality. It is necessary, then, that the collective conscience leave open a part of the individual conscience in order that special functions may be established there, functions which it cannot regulate. The more this region is extended, the stronger is the cohesion which results from this solidarity. In effect, on the one hand, each one depends as much more strictly on society as labor is more divided; and, on the other, the activity of each is as much more personal as it is more specialized. Doubtless, as circumscribed as it is, it is never completely original. Even in the exercise of our occupation, we conform to usages, to practices which are common to our whole professional brotherhood. But, even in this instance, the yoke that we submit to is much less heavy than when society completely controls us, and it leaves much more place open for the free play of our initiative. Here, then, the individuality of all grows at the same time as that of its parts. Society becomes more capable of collective movement, at the same time that each of its elements has more freedom of movement. This solidarity resembles that which we observe among the higher animals. Each organ, in effect, has its special physiognomy, its autonomy. And, moreover, the unity of the organism is as great as the individuation of the parts is more marked. Because of this analogy, we propose to call the solidarity which is due to the division of labor, organic.

 

 

Max Weber, Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft, part III, chap. 6, pp. 650-78.

http://www2.pfeiffer.edu/~lridener/DSS/Weber/BUREAU.HTML

 

VIII. Bureaucracy

 

I: Characteristics of Bureaucracy

 

MODERN officialdom functions in the following specific manner:

 

I. There is the principle of fixed and official jurisdictional areas, which are generally ordered by rules, that is, by laws or administrative regulations.

 

1. The regular activities required for the purposes of the bureaucratically governed structure are distributed in a fixed way as official duties.

 

2. The authority to give the commands required for the discharge of these duties is distributed in a stable way and is strictly delimited by rules concerning the coercive means, physical, sacerdotal, or otherwise, which may be placed at the disposal of officials.

 

3. Methodical provision is made for the regular and continuous fulfilment of these duties and for the execution of the corresponding rights; only persons who have the generally regulated qualifications to serve are employed.

 

4.  In public and lawful government these three elements constitute 'bureaucratic authority.' In private economic domination, they constitute bureaucratic 'management.' Bureaucracy, thus understood, is fully developed in political and ecclesiastical communities only in the modern state, and, in the private economy, only in the most advanced institutions of capitalism….

 

II. The principles of office hierarchy and of levels of graded authority mean a firmly ordered system of super- and subordination in which there is a supervision of the lower offices by the higher ones. Such a system offers the governed the possibility of appealing the decision of a lower office to its higher authority, in a definitely regulated manner. With the full development of the bureaucratic type, the office hierarchy is monocratically organized. The principle of hierarchical office authority is found in all bureaucratic structures: in state and ecclesiastical structures as well as in large party organizations and private enterprises. It does not matter for the character of bureaucracy whether its authority is called 'private' or 'public.'

 

When the principle of jurisdictional 'competency' is fully carried through, hierarchical subordination--at least in public office--does not mean that the 'higher' authority is simply authorized to take over the business of the 'lower.' Indeed, the opposite is the rule. Once established and having fulfilled its task, an office tends to continue in existence and be held by another incumbent.

 

III. The management of the modern office is based upon written documents ('the files'), which are preserved in their original or draught form. There is, therefore, a staff of subaltern officials and scribes of all sorts. The body of officials actively engaged in a 'public' office, along with the respective apparatus of material implements and the files, make up a 'bureau.' In private enterprise, 'the bureau' is often called 'the office.'

 

IV. Office management, at least all specialized office management-- and such management is distinctly modern--usually presupposes thorough and expert training. This increasingly holds for the modern executive and employee of private enterprises, in the same manner as it holds for the state official.

 

VI. The management of the office follows general rules, which are more or less stable, more or less exhaustive, and which can be learned. Knowledge of these rules represents a special technical learning which the officials possess. It involves jurisprudence, or administrative or business management.

 

 

 

From George Herbert Mead, Mind, Self, and Society. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1934.

http://www2.pfeiffer.edu/~lridener/DSS/Mead/MINDSELF.HTML

 

Social Attitudes and the Physical World

 

1.  The self is not so much a substance as a process in which the conversation of gestures has been internalized within an organic form. This process does not exist for itself, but is simply a phase of the whole social organization of which the individual is a part. The organization of the social act has been imported into the organism and becomes then the mind of the individual. It still includes the attitudes of others, but now highly organized, so that they become what we call social attitudes rather than roles of separate individuals. This process of relating one's own organism to the others in the interactions that are going on, in so far as it is imported into the conduct of the individual with the conversation of the "I" and the "me," constitutes the self. [1] The value of this importation of the conversation of gestures into the conduct of the individual lies in the superior co-ordination gained for society as a whole, and in the increased efficiency of the individual as a member of the group. It is the difference between the process which can take place in a group of rats or ants or bees, and that which can take place in a human community. The social process with its various implications is actually taken up into the experience of the individual so that that which is going on takes place more effectively, because in a certain sense it has been rehearsed in the individual. He not only plays his part better under those conditions but he also reacts back on the organization of which he is a part.  [In other words, we may internalize (and call “me”) our interpretation of the responses of other persons to our actions.  A boy asks a girl for a date.  She says, “Eeeeeuuuu.  Not likely, pimple face.”  He may come to see himself as ugly and unworthy of any better treatment.  Does it work the same way if we are talking about action.  For example, do poor grades necessarily imply that a student is ESSENTIALLY a moron?]

 

2.  The reaction of the individual in this conversation of gestures is one that in some degree is continually modifying the social process itself. It is this modification of the process which is of greatest interest in the experience of the individual. He takes the attitude of the other toward his own stimulus, and in taking that he finds it modified in that his response becomes a different one, and leads in turn to further changes it.

 

3.  The mind is simply the interplay of such gestures in the form of significant symbols.  [We communicate---are understood---via sending and receiving gestures whose meaning/significance is the same for all parties.  These are called significant symbols.]  

 

4.  We must remember that the gesture is there only in its relationship to the response, to the attitude…..What the human being has succeeded in doing is in organizing the response to a certain symbol which is a part of the social act, so that he takes the attitude of the other person who co-operates with him. It is that which gives him a mind.

 

5.  I want to be sure that we see that the content put into the mind is only a development and product of social interaction. It is a development which is of enormous importance, and which leads to complexities and complications of society which go almost beyond our power to trace, but originally it is nothing but the taking over of the attitude of the other. To the extent that the animal can take the attitude of the other and utilize that attitude for the control of his own conduct, we have what is termed mind; and that is the only apparatus involved in the appearance of the mind.

 

I know of no way in which intelligence or mind could arise or could have arisen, other than through the internalization by the individual of social processes of experience and behavior, that is, through this internalization of the conversation of significant gestures, as made possible by the individual's taking the attitudes of other individuals toward himself and toward what is being thought about. And if mind or thought has arisen in this way, then there neither can be nor could have been any mind or thought without language; and the early stages of the development of language must have been prior to the development of mind or thought.

 

PERSONALIZATION AND DEPERSONALIZATION
Martin A. Kozloff
Watson School
of Education
University
of North Carolina at Wilmington
August, 1997

I. INTRODUCTION

1.  Place and Personhood

Social formations--from small groups to societies--consist of individuals. More abstractly, however, social formations consist of places (positions, statuses or "membership categories") that are occupied by individuals and groups. Groups include cliques, gangs, teams, families, classrooms, schools, neighborhoods, communities (defined by area and/or common interest), "races," nationalities, and language communities. Examples of social places include "good provider," "nurturing mother," "masterful teacher," "wise administrator," "respected elder," "sweet child," "gangster," "class fool," "homeless," "student with a learning disability," "mental defective," "underclass," and the places occupied by persons and groups labeled with terms such as "scum of the earth," "kike," "wop," "spic," "dumb blonde," "slut," "white trash," "nigger," “dyke,” and "faggot." Most persons have commonsense knowledge of position or place. For example, one hears comments such as "You can't talk that way to someone in my position," or one observes that some persons said to have mental retardation look at the floor and give minimal responses when talking to persons in the category "normal" (Yearley & Brewer, 1989).

2.  Place, Personhood, and Identity are Achievements

Some people take for granted a desirable social membership and personal identity. However, persons who were never asked to a school dance, who have recently lost their jobs, who have a history of abuse or school failure, or who have "physical anomalies," know that membership and identity are neither inherent characteristics (i.e., part of them), nor things that can be taken for granted. Instead, a desirable membership (place) and identity are hard won and sometimes temporary achievements. Members of large groups know this, too. For example, the civil rights movement of the 1950's and 60's represents the efforts of African Americans to improve their place. Similarly, members of the disability movement want it understood that bodies have impairments, but disability is a stigmatized social place (Oliver, 1996). Therefore, we can say that place and identity are achievements--in fact, they are ongoing collaborative achievements. We acquire, learn, sustain, and change places and identities through social interaction. Note: this interaction can be at the interpersonal level (e.g., teacher and student; passersby on the street) and at the group level (e.g., between one community and another). Interactions that bring individuals and groups into larger social formations, and that bestow, sustain, or up-grade valued places and identities, are part of a personalization process (Henry,1966). However, interactions that deny, degrade, or remove a person's or a group's place are part of a depersonalization process.

3.  Personalization and Depersonalization May be "Invisible" or Public

Most place-bestowing interactions (e.g., when parents bring a new child into the family) and most place-sustaining interactions (e.g., treating a person who has undergone a disfiguring operation as the same person) are mundane, and almost invisible. For example, family members teach a young child her place, and remind themselves how they see the child, by the way they feed and dress her; respond to her preferences and dispreferences; and give her opportunities to participate. Depersonalization, too, is accomplished through mundane interactions, such as harsh punishment; insults; humiliation; and deprivation of opportunities, affection and protection. For instance, the diagnosis that a student has a (learning disability, attention disorder, conduct disorder), and the prognosis that the student is not likely to learn much from "normal" classroom instruction, may be understood as rational outcomes of a competent assessment (Mehan, 1993). Yet, the diagnosis and prognosis may be steps in the invisible process of assigning the student a disvalued place in the school and in the larger society (Carrier, 1983; McDermott, 1993). However, some personalizing (place-bestowing, -sustaining, or -improving) interactions are planned and perhaps public. These are rites of passage. Examples include baptism, confirmation, graduations, and birthday celebrations. Likewise, explicit and sometimes official depersonalization occurs during "degradation ceremonies" (Garfinkel, 1956) or "rituals of adversity" (Murphy, Scheer, Murphy, & Mack,1988). These include competency hearings, body searches, transfers from regular to special education classes, derogatory propaganda, mass imprisonment, and genocide.

4.   Attributes of Social Place: Qualities, Resources, and Moral Obligations

Each place has certain attributes associated with it. One set of attributes is qualities that are ascribed to occupants of a place. These qualities include humanness, membership, value, and identity. This does not mean that occupants actually have the ascribed qualities. The point is that members of a culture assume that anyone who occupies a certain place either must have or eventually will reveal certain qualities.

Regarding the quality of humanness, occupants of a place might be seen as fully human (part of the biological species and of the human community defined by common origins, sufferings, and fate). Or, occupants might be seen as lesser sorts of humans (missing what are deemed essential features, such as an understanding of the facts of human existence). Or, finally, occupants might be seen as nonhuman.

The midwife wonder'd and the women cried
'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!'
And so I was; which plainly signified
That I should snarl and bite and play the dog."
(Richard, Duke of
Gloucester, in Shakespeare's Henry VI).

What kind of humanness is ascribed to individuals who are deemed stupid, foreigners, anti-social, violent, poor, or (as in the case of Richard) deformed? [Notice that Richard has internalized other persons' perceptions of him, and is resolved to play his ascribed part (vicious dog) to the hilt--which he surely does in the next play, Richard III.]

Membership is another quality ascribed to occupants of a place. For example, occupants might be seen as valued members in good standing, incompetent members, members whose place is tenuous, members on the fringe of the circle of "us," or partial members. Identity is a third quality ascribed to occupants. It consists of alleged stable traits such as rationality or irrationality, intelligence, honesty, strength, competence, and value.

A second attribute of any place is resources that members believe it is appropriate to provide, permit, or deny occupants. Resources include food, shelter, clothing, health care, educational and occupational opportunities, advancement, justice, affection, approval, prestige, and protection.

A third attribute of place is moral obligationsof persons within the same place or between different places. These include the understood obligation vs the understood absence of obligation to empathize with the sufferings of other individuals or groups; the obligation vs lack of obligation to protect others; the obligation vs lack of obligation to be sensitive and to satisfy other persons' preferences and dispreferences; and the obligation vs lack of obligation to control aggressive impulses against individuals and groups.

5.  Social Functions of Personalization and Depersonalization

Personalization and depersonalization serve several functions. One function is simply the distribution of life, resources, suffering, and identities in a social formation (Bourdieu, 1990; Hocart, 1970; Walzer, 1983). Who will receive the better sorts of health care and schooling? Who will be protected from dealth, illness, injustice, and violence? Who will be exposed to violence and environmental toxins (Wise & Lowe, 1992)? Whose claims to deserving respect and better treatment are we obliged to listen to and validate? Examples of a personalizing distribution include parents buying toys for their awaited baby, life-giving medical procedures for sick infants, and practices (e.g., baptism, admission to regular education classes) that bring newcomers into families and communities. Examples of a depersonalizing distribution, however, include abortion, institutionalizing children with disabilities, discrimination in hiring and promotion, and infanticide (e.g., restricting food to newborns with disabilities or killing newborns of the less valued sex) (Elks, 1993; Evans, 1983; Wolfensberger, 1994). By these means, the pool of individuals and groups with claims to a place and to the resources that go with a place is limited and controlled.

A second function of personalization and depersonalization processes is defending members against vulnerability by isolating or degrading individuals and groups whose bodies, behaviors, or life circumstances provoke fears of disfigurement, pain, illness, poverty, failure, madness, disgrace, or abandonment. In much the same way that old, mad or sick people have been selected as scapegoats for the sins of the community, and then killed or driven out--thereby decreasing the vulnerability of the group to the judgment of the gods--so in modern societies certain places ("retard," "loser," "homeless, "weird family") are understood as occupied by people whose misfortunes symbolize the host of bad things that can happen.

Imagine a number of men in chains...some of whom are each day butchered in the sight of the others; those remaining see their own condition in that of their fellows, and looking at each other with grief and despair await their turn. This is an image of the human condition. (Pascal, 1966, p. 165)

The ill treatment or neglect that such persons may receive creates social distance. This distance enables the rest of the community to feel more secure in the knowledge that they have not been selected for destruction by fate, chance, or their fellow humans.

A third function is filling important but disvalued positions in communities, organizations, and groups. Examples include the "butt of jokes," the child or family being evaluated, the status of student in resource rooms or segregated classes, and people who do the "dirty work" of society.

A final function of personalization and depersonalization is sustaining the illusion of moral rectitude, professional expertise, and therefore legitimate authority in schools and human service agencies by transforming unsatisfactory outcomes (which could be attributed to malevolence or incompetence) into evidence of clients' deviance (Bourdieu, 1977; Bourdieu & Passeron, 1977; Carrier, 1983). For example, staff at a school that employs highly painful methods to control problem behavior may explain worsening "aggression" of students as part of the natural course of the students' disorders or as a result of unknown neurological factors.

II. SIGNS (EVIDENCE) OF PROPER PLACE

6.   How is it that some individuals and groups are allocated a valued place, while other are allocated and sustained in a disvalued place, such as "outsider," "failure," "troublemaker," or "retard"? The answer, in part, is that each individual or group displays "socially significant symbols." These are physical, behavioral, and social characteristics that are understood as defining (i.e., are considered signs of) humanness, value, and personal identity (Henry, 1966). The individual or group who is allocated the social place "outsider" or "retard," is not likely to have some of the significant symbols (e.g., "correct" skin color, "correct" language, competence as defined by a dominant group, a high-status family, an attractive body, and nice clothes) that are understood as indicators of common humanity, value, and social power, and that exert a moral force on other persons, obliging them to help the individual to have a decent life. In summary, socially significant symbols are tools for assigning and justifying place.

Definition of Socially Significant Symbols

On what basis do members allocate, deny, remove, upgrade, or degrade place--and associated humanness, membership, identity, resources and moral obligation? The answer, in part, is that groups develop a stock of "significant symbols" that enable members to make sense of their world (actually, to create and to sustain a "world"). Through interaction, members of groups come to see certain events (e.g., gestures, postures, utterances, objects, activities, "signs" in nature) as signifying or pointing to something else. For example, a young child learns that a parent's upturned lips and wide-open eyes point to something inside the parent (happiness) and predict the parent's next action (e.g., hugging the child). When the gesture has the same meaning or significance for the child (receiver) as it does for the parent (sender), the gesture is called a significant symbol (Mead, 1956). Groups develop stocks of significant symbols that constitute much of what they communicate about and how they communicate. Moreover, the repeated use of significant symbols (sending and receiving mutually understood gestures) enables members to assume that they live in an intersubjective world--that they understand one another and constitute a community--a we (Schutz, 1970).

Different stocks of significant symbols (items with shared meaning) are relevant for different activities in communities. For instance, farmers know the signs of wheat rust and fertile soil. Another and a very large set of significant symbols is used in personalizing and depersonalizing activities. This set of socially significant symbols is understood as pointing to humanness, value, and personal identity. Note that some socially significant symbols are stigmata--i.e., signs of nonhumanness, incompetence, low status, threats to social order, and "spoiled" identity (Goffman, 1963a).

Four Groups of Socially Significant Symbols

Socially significant symbols used in personalization and depersonalization fall into four groups, as noted by Jules Henry (1966).

Body. One group consists of features of the body, such as stature, the complement of body parts, the operation of parts, and the placement and proportionality of parts (e.g., eyes that are spaced properly). Deviations from aesthetic and medical (official) standards of the "normal" body may be seen as stigmata--in this case "body abominations" (Goffman, 1963a) or forms of "distortedness" (Henry, 1963). When other persons regard an individual's body or a group's body type as attractive and healthy, they may feel an initial attachment to the individual or group--a bond of humanness--and provide at least a minimum of sensitivity and protection (care). However, when other persons regard an individual's body or a group's body type as a distortion of the human form, they may feel a lack of human kinship; their own vulnerabilities to injury, disfigurement, disgrace, and rejection may be provoked; and (depending on other significant symbols identified below) may actively or passively deny life or valuable place.

Competence and Comportment Depending on the culture, community, organization, or family, aspects of behavior that point to humanness, value, and identity include: 1) proper orientation and attention to the outer world; 2) proper rates and intensities of activity (i.e., between hyper- and hypoactive; 3) locomotion (e.g., upright and steady); 4) skillful turn-taking (e.g., initiating, reciprocating, and repairing interaction); 5) communication via words and embodied gestures; 6) self-care (e.g., presenting an attractive appearance and demonstrating knowledge and respect for the "shame and disgust function" of the group by, for instance, cleaning body fluids from the hands) (Henry, 1966); and 7) competence at routine activities (e.g., playing, making friends, making money, doing chores). When an individual or group acquires and displays socially important competencies, other persons are likely to see the individual or group as being "like us," valuable, and hence worthy of protection, formal instruction and other opportunities to learn and to participate.

Possessions A third group of socially significant symbols consists of material possessions. Examples include eating utensils, clothing, toys, bed, seat at the supper table, books, watch, television set, bike, stereo, and computer. Of course, the set of possessions that define a member in good standing depends on the culture, family, peer group, and on the individual's age. When individuals or groups display socially important possessions, other people assume that these individuals or groups have something to offer (are valuable), know what is "in" (are geared into cultural trends), and are cared for (have protection and social power). Therefore, individuals and groups who display socially important possessions are likely to be accorded a more valuable place and personhood than individuals who lack these symbols.

Life Circumstances Life circumstances that are important signs of humanness, value, and identity in some cultures and groups include: 1) having a family, friends, and job; 2) having children who are "normal"; 3) being a member of certain religious, ethnic, or racial groups; 4) being a member of a certain social class defined by income or area of residence; 5) having places to live, play, and hang-out (i.e., territory); and 6) having some autonomy and independence (e.g., an effective voice in deciding the conditions of one's life or the lives of people to whom one feels obligated). Individuals and groups who have important life circumstances may be perceived as more competent, as having more resources, and as having more value. Therefore, other things being equal (body and comportment), they may be accorded a more valuable place and personhood. As stated, the above socially significant symbols are understood as evidence of proper place, and are therefore used to allocate (or to deny) and to justify attributions of humanness, value, membership, identity, resources, and moral obligation. The next sections examine this in more detail.

The Ascription of Personhood: Humanness,Value, and Identity

Humanness Humanness implies membership in the human species based on significant symbols that define a well-functioning and aesthetically acceptable body. Therefore, when an infant is born with "deformities," other persons may experience difficulty assigning full humanness. This may result in depersonalizing child-caregiver interaction, assignment to the social place of "freak," or death.

Second, humanness implies membership in a community defined by a group's conception of the facts of human existence. For example, a group may believe that each member confronts the inescapability of suffering and death; is responsible for giving life meaning; and must be independent, productive, and tough. Therefore, when some individuals' bodies and/or behaviors are taken to signify that the individuals are incapable of understanding the facts of life or incapable of meeting the challenges of existence, these individuals may be ascribed less than full humanness and treated in a commensurate fashion (e.g., life in subordinate statuses or in some form of institution).

Third, humanness implies intersubjectivity. To ascribe intersubjectivity is to infer that many events common to a group have the same meaning for the individual as they do for other members; that the individual experiences a "we" feeling with other members; and that if the individual trades standpoints with another member, the individual will have the same experiences as the other (Schutz, 1970). Socially significant symbols that point to intersubjectivity or to the capacity for intersubjectivity include working sense organs (especially eyes [Fraiberg, 1974]); orientation, attention, and responsiveness to activities (e.g., showing recognition); and interaction competence.

In summary, the ascription of intersubjectivity is based on features of the body and comportment that are understood as indicating that an individual is geared into the same conventional reality and can communicate with other members. The ascription of intersubjectivity has several personalizing effects. It increases the incentive to enter into social relations with the individual; it almost automatically results in other persons seeing the individual not merely as moving meat, but a self that inhabits a body (Berger & Luckmann, 1967; Ostrow, 1990); it fosters sympathy; and it carries the moral obligation to treat an individual with appropriate sensitivity and respect (Schopenhauer, 1958).

Value An individual's or a group's perceived value is based on competence, contributions to social activities, and material possessions. People who attain these are likely to considered worthy of other members' time and effort, protection, nurturance, clothing, shelter, toys, education, and medical care (Tronto, 1993). The inferior teaching materials and the harsh child-caregiver interaction found in some classes and families of children with disabilities reflect (and sustain) the ascription of low value to the children. Value is also ascribed on the basis of significant symbols that imply social ties. For example, the visibility of family, friends, and other advocates; membership in religious, sports, and other groups; and symbols of socioeconomic status (e.g., possessions) suggest that an individual or group has protection and resources for social influence (e.g., pressure, newsworthiness) that can be drawn upon. The individual's or group's social ties, therefore, exert a political force that obliges other persons (teachers, police, clergy, lawyers, media) to be sensitive to the individual's or group's welfare, and to provide special care if called on.

Identity Socially significant symbols are used to make ascriptions about who an individual or group is. Some socially significant symbols are understood as pointing inward to a self or a mind (Coulter, 1979; Wittgenstein, 1971). They signify the individual's or group's "aliveness" or "with-it-ness" as an actor (Goffman, 1963b). Specifically, functioning sense organs and proper comportment (attention, responsiveness, competence) suggest that an individual or group is an embodiment of will (energy, drive), consciousness, purpose, and reason. These ascriptions powerfully affect other persons' interactions with the individual or group. To the extent, for example, that a child's body and behavior are seen as signifying that the child is less-than-fully-sentient and manifests little intentionality, other persons may have difficulty imagining a self inside the child's skin that has experiences and that wills actions (Goode, 1991). They may, therefore, feel little intersubjectivity with the child, judge efforts to reach the child as futile, interact with the child in ways that foster conflict and social distance, and feel little obligation to provide resources for a decent life.

An individual's or group's comportment is also used to ascribe durable traits. Examples of traits include: 1) actions (whiny, demanding, cooperative, competent); 2) feelings (irritable, depressed, happy); 3) motives (to injure, to please); 4) attitudes (serious, frivolous, careful, studious, egoistic); and 5) ways of thinking (quick, confused, illogical, reasonable). The ascription of traits such as irritable, demanding, self-centered, hostile, and destructive may result in an evaluation that the individual's presence is aversive and costly. This may foster or sustain conflictual interaction (e.g., threat and counter-threat; mutual punishment) that engenders increasingly deviant behavior, leading to a child's assignment to a lesser social place (e.g., the place of a "person with an emotional disturbance") (Baden & Howe, 1992; Campbell, Pierce, March, Ewing, & Szumowski, 1994; Olson, Bates, & Bayles, 1989; Pettit & Bates, 1989; van de Rijt-Plooij & Plooij, 1993).

The Allocation of Place: Rights, Resources, and Opportunities to Participate

Social place is defined in part by the material resources made available to an individual or group, and by the rights, care, and opportunities that are accorded. Different social places provide incumbents with greater or fewer opportunities to voice their rights, preferences, and dispreferences, and to have their voices validated. The cries of a child with high social place (e.g., the "sweet child," the "challenged but one of us" child) may provoke nurturing responses from caregivers. The cries of a child or a group with low social place ("job-stealing foreigners") may provoke contemptuous interpretations of the crying as "attention-getting." People who are allocated a higher social place are also likely have access to a greater quantity and higher quality of food, protection, clothing, shelter, toys, medical care, and other resources. Finally, the higher the social place, the greater and more valuable are opportunities (educational, economic, political) accorded to the individual or group and that the individual or group comes to regard as rightful possessions.

III. SOCIAL INTERACTION, IDENTITY, AND PLACE

7.  Under certain conditions, experiences of personalization and depersonalization yield identities that match the treatment received. Sufficiently powerful and consistent experiences of personalization may foster self (or group) satisfaction, confidence, and attachment to the larger social formation. Sufficiently powerful and consistent experiences of depersonalization, however, may foster self (or group) loathing, vulnerability, and alienation from the larger social formation. This latter was eloquently expressed by W.E.B Du Bois.

It is in the early days of rollicking boyhood that the revelation first bursts upon one... I remember well when the shadow swept over me... (S)omething put it into the boys' and girls' head to buy gorgeous visiting cards...and exchange. The exchange was a merry one till one girl , a tall newcomer, refused my card, --refused it peremptorily with a glance. Then it dawned upon me with a certain suddenness that I was different from the others...Why did God make me a stranger and an outcast in mine own house?...It is a peculiar sensation,...this sense of always looking at one's self though the eyes of others, of measuring oneself by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity... But the facing of so vast a prejudice could not help but bring the inevitable self-questioning, self-disparagement, and lowering of ideals which ever accompany repression and breed an atmoshpere of contempt and hate. (The souls of Black folk)

In both personalization and depersonalization, the individual or group first interprets the meaning of experiences. A person may interpret protection, for instance, as meaning, "They like me, see me as valuable, as being one of them." However, a person may interpret rejection (as in the excerpt from Du Bois) as meaning. "They see me as different, as deficient or defective, not part of the group." Interpretation may be followed by internalization. This means that the individual or group now uses the interpretation to describe itself. The interpretation--"They see me as deficient or defective, an outsider"--becomes part of the self--"I am deficient or defective. I am an outsider." The circle is now complete. The person or group that sees itself as a valued member is likely to act in that fashion (e.g., to participate, and to acquire more socially significant symbols of valuable place). This demonstrates to other persons that their perception of the individual or group as being a valuable member was correct. When, however, a depersonalized individual or group plays the (expected) part of outsider, fool, adversary, enemy, or "defective," it affirms depersonalizing perceptions that other persons had, and sustains depersonalizing treatment. Social interaction, identity and place are now consistent.

References and Relevant Readings

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Bruner, J. (1987). Life as narrative. Social Research, 54(1), 11-32.

Campbell, S.B., Pierce, E.W., March, C.L., Ewing, L.J., & Szumowski, E.K. (1994). Hard-to-manage preschool boys: Symptomatic behavior across contexts and time. Child Development, 65, 836-851.

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Cutler, B.C. (1993). You, your child, and special education: A guide to making the system work. Baltimore, MD: Paul H. Brookes Publishing Company.

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Goffman, E. (1963b). Behavior in public places: Notes on the social organization of gatherings. New York: The Free Press.

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Goffman, E. (1971). Relations in public. New York: Harper and Row.

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Helm, D.T. (1981). Conferring membership: Interaction with "incompetents." Unpublished doctoral dissertation. Department of Sociology, Boston University, Boston, MA.

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From W.E.B. DuBois, The Souls of Black Folk. Chicago: A. C. McClurg and Co., 1903, Chapter I - "Of Our Spiritual Strivings," pp. 1-12.

http://www2.pfeiffer.edu/~lridener/DSS/DuBois/sbf1.htm

 

Chapter I    Of Our Spiritual Strivings

 

Between me and the other world there is ever an unasked question: unasked by some through feelings of delicacy; by others through the difficulty of rightly framing it.  All, nevertheless, flutter round it.  They approach me in a half-hesitant sort of way, eye me curiously or compassionately, and then, instead of saying directly, How does it feel to be a problem? they say, I know an excellent colored man in my town; or, I fought at Mechanicsville; or, Do not these Southern outrages make your blood boil?  At these I smile, or am interested, or reduce the boiling to a simmer, as the occasion may require.  To the real question, How does it feel to be a problem?  I answer seldom a word.

 

 And yet, being a problem [A PLACE AND IDENTITY?] is a strange experience,--peculiar even for one who has never been anything else, save perhaps in babyhood and in Europe.  It is in the early days of rollicking boyhood that the revelation first bursts upon one, all in a day, as it were.  I remember well when the shadow swept across me. I was a little thing, away up in the hills of New England, where the dark Housatonic winds between Hoosac and Taghkanic to the sea.  In a wee wooden schoolhouse, something put it into the boys' and girls' heads to buy gorgeous visiting-cards--ten cents a package--and exchange.  The exchange was merry, till one girl, a tall newcomer, refused my card, --refused it peremptorily, with a glance.  Then it dawned upon me with a certain suddenness that I was different from the others; or like, mayhap, in heart and life and longing, but shut out from their world by a vast veil.  I had thereafter no desire to tear down that veil, to creep through; I held all beyond it in common contempt, and lived above it in a region of blue sky and great wandering shadows.  That sky was bluest when I could beat my mates at examination-time, or beat them at a foot-race, or even beat their stringy heads. Alas, with the years all this fine contempt began to fade; for the words I longed for [SIGNIFICANT SYMBOLS], and all their dazzling opportunities, were theirs, not mine.  But they should not keep these prizes, I said; some, all, I would wrest from them.  Just how I would do it I could never decide: by reading law, by healing the sick, by telling the wonderful tales that swam in my head, --some way.  With other black boys the strife was not so fiercely sunny: their youth shrunk into tasteless sycophancy, or into silent hatred of the pale world about them and mocking distrust of everything white; or wasted itself in a bitter cry, [PLACES AND IDENTITIES?], Why did God make me an outcast and a stranger in mine own house?  The shades of the prison-house closed round about us all: walls strait and stubborn to the whitest, but relentlessly narrow, tall, and unscalable to sons of night who must plod darkly on in resignation, or beat unavailing palms against the stone, or steadily, half hopelessly, watch the streak of blue above.

 

 After the Egyptian and Indian, the Greek and Roman, the Teuton and Mongolian, the Negro is a sort of seventh son, born with a veil, and gifted with second-sight in this American world,--a world which yields him no true self-consciousness, but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world.  It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity.  One ever feels his twoness,--an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.

 

 The history of the American Negro is the history of this strife,--this longing to attain self-conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self.  [WHAT PROCESS?] In this merging he wishes neither of the older selves to be lost.  He would not Africanize America, for America has too much to teach the world and Africa.  He would not bleach his Negro soul in a flood of white Americanism, for he knows that Negro blood has a message for the world.  He simply wishes to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro and an American, without being cursed and spit upon by his fellows, without having the doors of Opportunity closed roughly in his face.

 

This, then, is the end of his striving: to be a co-worker in the kingdom of culture, to escape both death and isolation, to husband and use his best powers and his latent genius.  These powers of body and mind have in the past been strangely wasted, dispersed, or forgotten.  The shadow of a mighty Negro past flits through the tale of Ethiopia the Shadowy and of Egypt the Sphinx.  Through history, the powers of single black men flash here and there like falling stars, and die sometimes before the world has rightly gauged their brightness.  Here in America, in the few days since Emancipation, the black man's turning hither and thither in hesitant and doubtful striving has often made his very strength to lose effectiveness, to seem like absence of power, like weakness.  And yet it is not weakness,--it is the contradiction of double aims.  The double-aimed struggle of the black artisan--on the one hand to escape white contempt for a nation of  mere hewers of wood and drawers of water, and on the other hand to plough and nail and dig for a poverty-stricken horde--could only result in making him a poor craftsman, for he had but half a heart in either cause.  By the poverty and ignorance of his people, the Negro minister or doctor was tempted toward quackery and demagogy; and by the criticism of the other world, toward ideals that made him ashamed of his lowly tasks.  The would-be black savant was confronted by the paradox that the knowledge his people needed was a twice-told tale to his white neighbors, while the knowledge which would teach the white world was Greek to his own flesh and blood.  The innate love of harmony and beauty that set the ruder souls of his people a-dancing and a-singing raised but confusion and doubt in the soul of the black artist; for the beauty revealed to him was the soul-beauty of a race which his larger audience despised, and he could not articulate the message of another people.  This waste of double aims, this seeking to satisfy two unreconciled ideals, has wrought sad havoc with the courage and faith and deeds of ten thousand thousand people,--has sent them often wooing false gods and invoking false means of salvation, and at times has even seemed about to make them ashamed of themselves.

 

 Away back in the days of bondage they thought to see in one divine event the end of all doubt and disappointment; few men ever worshipped Freedom with half such unquestioning faith as did the American Negro for two centuries.  To him, so far as he thought and dreamed, slavery was indeed the sum of all villainies, the cause of all sorrow, the root of all prejudice; Emancipation was the key to a promised land of sweeter beauty than ever stretched before the eyes of wearied Israelites.  In song and exhortation swelled one refrain--Liberty; in his tears and curses the God he implored had Freedom in his right hand.  At last it came,--suddenly, fearfully, like a dream.  With one wild carnival of blood and passion came the message in his own plaintive cadences:--

 "Shout, O children!

Shout, you're free!

For God has bought your liberty!"

 

Years have passed away since then,--ten, twenty, forty; forty years of national life, forty years of renewal and development, and yet the swarthy spectre sits in its accustomed seat at the Nation's feast.  In vain do we cry to this our vastest social problem:--

 

"Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves

Shall never tremble!"

 

The Nation has not yet found peace from its sins; the freedman has not yet found in freedom his promised land.  Whatever of good may have come in these years of change, the shadow of a deep disappointment rests upon the Negro people,--a disappointment all the more bitter because the unattained ideal was unbounded save by the simple ignorance of a lowly people.

 

A people thus handicapped ought not to be asked to race with the world, but rather allowed to give all its time and thought to its own social problems.  But alas! while sociologists gleefully count his bastards and his prostitutes, the very soul of the toiling, sweating black man is darkened by the shadow of a vast despair.  Men call the shadow prejudice, and learnedly explain it as the natural defence of culture against barbarism, learning against ignorance, purity against crime, the "higher" against the "lower" races.  To which the Negro cries Amen! and swears that to so much of this strange prejudice as is founded on just homage to civilization, culture, righteousness, and progress, he humbly bows and meekly does obeisance.  But before that nameless prejudice that leaps beyond all this he stands helpless, dismayed, and well-nigh speechless; before that personal disrespect and mockery, the ridicule and systematic humiliation, the distortion of fact and wanton license of fancy, the cynical ignoring of the better and the boisterous welcoming of the worse, the all-pervading desire to inculcate disdain for everything black, from Toussaint to the devil, --before this there rises a sickening despair that would disarm and discourage any nation save that black host to whom "discouragement" is an unwritten word.

 

 But the facing of so vast a prejudice could not but bring the inevitable self-questioning, self-disparagement, and lowering of ideals which ever accompany repression and breed in an atmosphere of contempt and hate.  Whisperings and portents came home upon the four winds: Lo! we are diseased and dying, cried the dark hosts; we cannot write, our voting is vain; what need of education, since we must always cook and serve?  And the Nation echoed and enforced this self-criticism, saying: Be content to be servants, and nothing more; what need of higher culture for half-men?  Away with the black man's ballot, by force or fraud,--and behold the suicide of a race!  Nevertheless, out of the evil came something of good, --the more careful adjustment of education to real life, the clearer perception of the Negroes' social responsibilities, and the sobering realization of the meaning of progress.

 

Chapter VI   Of the Training of Black Men

But when we have vaguely said that Education will set this tangle straight, what have we uttered but a truism? Training for life teaches living; but what training for the profitable living together of black men and white? A hundred and fifty years ago our task would have seemed easier….  [HIS QUESITON IS, WHAT KIND OF EDUCATION?]

 

In rough approximation we may point out four varying decades of work in Southern education since the Civil War. From the close of the war until 1876, was the period of uncertain groping and temporary relief. There were army schools, mission schools, and schools of the Freedmen's Bureau in chaotic disarrangement seeking system and co-operation. Then followed ten years of constructive definite effort toward the building of complete school systems in the South. Normal schools and colleges were founded for the freedmen, and teachers trained there to man the public schools. There was the inevitable tendency of war to underestimate the prejudices of the master and the ignorance of the slave, and all seemed clear sailing out of the wreckage of the storm. Meantime, starting in this decade yet especially developing from 1885 to 1895, began the industrial revolution of the South. The land saw glimpses of a new destiny and the stirring of new ideals. The educational system striving to complete itself saw new obstacles and a field of work ever broader and deeper. The Negro colleges, hurriedly founded, were inadequately equipped, illogically distributed, and of varying efficiency and grade; the normal and high schools were doing little more than common-school work, and the common schools were training but a third of the children who ought to be in them, and training these too often poorly. At the same time the white South, by reason of its sudden conversion from the slavery ideal, by so much the more became set and strengthened in its racial prejudice, and crystallized it into harsh law and harsher custom; while the marvellous pushing forward of the poor white daily threatened to take even bread and butter from the mouths of the heavily handicapped sons of the freedmen. In the midst, then, of the larger problem of Negro education sprang up the more practical question of work, the inevitable economic quandary that faces a people in the transition from slavery to freedom, and especially those who make that change amid hate and prejudice, lawlessness and ruthless competition.

 

The industrial school springing to notice in this decade, but coming to full recognition in the decade beginning with 1895, was the proffered answer to this combined educational and economic crisis, and an answer of singular wisdom and timeliness. From the very first in nearly all the schools some attention had been given to training in handiwork, but now was this training first raised to a dignity that brought it in direct touch with the South's magnificent industrial development, and given an emphasis which reminded black folk that before the Temple of Knowledge swing the Gates of Toil….

 

Especially has criticism been directed against the former educational efforts to aid the Negro. In the four periods I have mentioned, we find first, boundless, planless enthusiasm and sacrifice; then the preparation of teachers for a vast public-school system; then the launching and expansion of that school system amid increasing difficulties; and finally the training of workmen for the new and growing industries. This development has been sharply ridiculed as a logical anomaly and flat reversal of nature. Soothly we have been told that first industrial and manual training should have taught the Negro to work, then simple schools should have taught him to read and write, and finally, after years, high and normal schools could have completed the system, as intelligence and wealth demanded.  [IN OTHER WORDS, COLLEGES WERE DEVELOPED BEFORE FREED BLACKS HAD GOOD GRAMMAR SCHOOLS.]

 

Such higher training-schools tended naturally to deepen broader development: at first they were common and grammar schools, then some became high schools. And finally, by 1900, some thirty-four had one year or more of studies of college grade. This development was reached with different degrees of speed in different institutions: Hampton is still a high school, while Fisk University started her college in 1871, and Spelman Seminary about 1896. In all cases the aim was identical,--to maintain the standards of the lower training by giving teachers and leaders the best practicable training; and above all, to furnish the black world with adequate standards of human culture and lofty ideals of life. It was not enough that the teachers of teachers should be trained in technical normal methods; they must also, so far as possible, be broad-minded, cultured men and women, to scatter civilization among a people whose ignorance was not simply of letters, but of life itself.

 

It can thus be seen that the work of education in the South began with higher institutions of training, which threw off as their foliage common schools, and later industrial schools, and at the same time strove to shoot their roots ever deeper toward college and university training. That this was an inevitable and necessary development, sooner or later, goes without saying; but there has been, and still is, a question in many minds if the natural growth was not forced, and if the higher training was not either overdone or done with cheap and unsound methods. Among white Southerners this feeling is widespread and positive. A prominent Southern journal voiced this in a recent editorial.

 

          "The experiment that has been made to give the colored students classical training has not been           satisfactory. Even though many were able to pursue the course, most of them did so in a parrot-like way, learning what was taught, but not seeming to appropriate the truth and import of their         instruction, and graduating without sensible aim or valuable occupation for their future. The whole   scheme has proved a waste of time, efforts, and the money of the state."

 

While most fair-minded men would recognize this as extreme and overdrawn, still without doubt many are asking, Are there a sufficient number of Negroes ready for college training to warrant the undertaking? Are not too many students prematurely forced into this work? Does it not have the effect of dissatisfying the young Negro with his environment? And do these graduates succeed in real life? Such natural questions cannot be evaded, nor on the other hand must a Nation naturally skeptical as to Negro ability assume an unfavorable answer without careful inquiry and patient openness to conviction. We must not forget that most Americans answer all queries regarding the Negro a priori, and that the least that human courtesy can do is to listen to evidence.

 

I sit with Shakespeare and he winces not. Across the color line I move arm in arm with Balzac and Dumas, where smiling men and welcoming women glide in gilded halls. From out the caves of evening that swing between the strong-limbed earth and the tracery of the stars, I summon Aristotle and Aurelius and what soul I will, and they come all graciously with no scorn nor condescension. So, wed with Truth, I dwell above the Veil. Is this the life you grudge us, O knightly America? Is this the life you long to change into the dull red hideousness of Georgia? Are you so afraid lest peering from this high Pisgah, between Philistine and Amalekite, we sight the Promised Land?