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Introduction

Elizabeth Fox-Genovese and Ellen Willis explore two sides of a chasm dividing individual rights and the rights of the collective in their landmark feminist works Feminism Without Illusions, No More Nice Girls, and Don’t Think, Smile! Fox-Genovese takes the stance that, in reality, the collective exists over and above the individual, and that our modern obsession with individualism is dangerous as it positions the individual over society. Opposed to this view, Willis pursues a critique of this collective ethic, positing the Freudian idea (echoed by Marcuse) that repression in excess can lead to disastrous consequences. She attacks the “left conservatism” of which Fox-Genovese is a representative, arguing that it far more resembles the right-wing philosophy it claims to oppose, and in fact may act to reinforce its message. Though both authors are feminist thinkers, they are opposed when it comes to ideas of ethics, biology, liberty and repression. As a long time socialist, the arguments of Ellen Willis are piquing my interest in left-libertarianism, and leading me to take a good look at the importance of individual rights and social justice.

Collective Rights: Fox-Genovese

Elizabeth Fox-Genovese (1991), in her book Feminism Without Illusions: A Critique of Individualism, attempts to explore what she terms, “some ways of imagining the claims of society – the collectivity – as prior to the rights the individual…” (9). The author begins with what seems like a basic premise regarding humanity: that individuals possess what Nietzsche (1989) called a “will to power” (a concept that can be thought of on an individual level as striving for high position or influence, or on a social level as class domination), and that our unhealthy emphasis of individualism does not keep this will in check. As such, Fox-Genovese seeks to supplant individualism with a more socially aware ethic that recognizes human interdependence, because individualism, taken to an extreme is dangerous. In her essay on pornography, she provides an example of how this dynamic plays out.

Fox-Genovese argues that individualism lacks a “necessary” safeguard which can reel-in, or limit, the will of the individual. This is not to say that she believes that individuals will necessarily do evil things if left unchecked, only that an emphasis which places the will of the individual over and against collective rights or needs will likely result in negative consequences. However, though she might not necessarily believe that individuals are inherently evil, there is something in this argument which implies that collectivity is something which does not arise organically, and that should be pursued in a concerted way. The author also contends that “individualism actually perverts the idea of the socially obligated and personally responsible freedom that constitutes the only freedom worthy of the name…” (7), which qualifies freedom in a rather special way. What, I believe, Fox-Genovese is attempting to present is the notion that for individuals to have personal freedoms in the first place, it is necessary to recognize that those freedoms would not exist without the collective, as the individual cannot exist without society, and this is an important point.

Therefore, Fox-Genovese seeks to usurp the emphasis on individual rights in our society, creating a new basis instead on social or collective rights. This is not to say that she wishes to do away with individual freedom and replace it with a collective freedom. Again, her ethic is grounded in the idea that the individual is nothing without the collective, and that our first and foremost priority should be the well-being of our society. Placing an emphasis solely on personal rights, as with individualism, does ignore necessary social goods. From the author’s perspective, this emphasis casts the collective in a secondary role, and as such has resulted in social injustice and irresponsibility. In this vein, she contends that, “if we fight for a worthy goal on the basis of unworthy premises that could open the floodgates to undesirable or even vile consequences” (10).

She argues, particularly in her essay on individualism, that the grounding of emancipation in the ideas of individual rights have unwittingly laid a dangerous groundwork. To be fair, Fox-Genovese acknowledges positive aspects of individualism. She acknowledges that the transformation of slavery, from one of many states of not being free, to freedom’s opposite was a result of an emphasis on the inalienability of personal freedoms. Further, she states that individualism has made possible freedom for all people. Despite these positive strides, the author maintains that, “in grounding the justification in absolute individual right, they have unleashed the specter of a radical individualism that overrides the claims of society itself” (241). One can understand her stance when looking at massive disparities in wealth and power. Are the rights of society being respected when one individual can hold a vast wealth while millions do not even have access to clean drinking water? Fox-Genovese contends that, through feminism, there is hope to return to the social basis of individual rights, because women understand that equality comes through equal access to social roles and resources.

One can see this in Fox-Genovese’s (1991) essay on pornography. The author contends that pornography is essentially violence directed at women. That it arises out of a childlike desire to break taboos, “secretly hoping that someone will force us to stop” (87). Most importantly, it depends for its existence on our society’s emphasis on individualism. When confronted with what Fox-Genovese sees as an act of violence against half of the population, were it up to her, she would, “ban the more extreme forms without a second thought, and with precious few worries about the public expressions of healthy sexuality that might be banned along with them” (88). Clearly, if pornography is harmful to half of the entire population, and the only philosophy that maintains its continued existence is individual rights, then a return to the understanding that society as a whole has rights would render pornography untenable.

Left Libertarianism: Ellen Willis

In No More Nice Girls: Countercultural Essays, Ellen Willis’ (1992) takes quite a different stance than Fox-Genovese. Willis admits at the outset that the topic of sexuality is just as divisive in feminist camps as it is in the general population. Rather than specifying a specific type of normal sexuality, she instead challenges the reader to question why we have the types of sexuality that we have. She directly challenges Fox-Genovese’s approach to community rights, and is very skeptical, if not suspicious of the attempt to place society over and against the individuals that make it up. A fuller examination of her ethic is explored in looking at libertarianism, along with a call to reclaim the language of liberty for the left, rather than acceding it (along with the term libertarian itself) to the right.

The author explores the discomfort with women’s sexuality that left conservative feminists share with traditional conservatives in the essay “Lust Horizons: Is the women’s movement pro-sex?” (Willis 1992). She contends that there were two main camps that emerged from early feminism: one that sought to control male sexuality to bring it in line with traditional values, and another that simply eschewed men as “lustful beasts ravaging their chaste victims” (6). Willis contends that these two basic approaches, “induce women to accept a spurious moral superiority as a substitute for sexual pleasure, and curbs on men’s sexual freedom as a substitute for real power” (6-7). She is emphatic that these views ignore the socialized aspects of sexuality, relying instead on a simplistic biological essentialism. The author is quite critical of repressive attitudes on the part of feminists, arguing that they play into the right-wing message that sexual repression is necessary for safety. She concludes that repressive or moralistic attitudes are in philosophical opposition to a progressive social movement.

Willis assaults, head-on, Fox-Genovese’s book Feminism Without Illusions: A Critique of Individualism, in her article entitled “Feminism without Freedom” (Willis 1992). From the outset the author attacks the notion of the will to power, noting that it is often argued when justifying socialist rights based on justice, and traditional morality. Both stances, which seem to come from two different political camps, in fact stem from the singular idea that individuals are essentially amoral, opportunistic, and must be regulated by a powerful authority (an idea that Willis implicitly disagrees with). Rather, she explores the Freudian notion that we are essentially motivated by desires that influence our relations with others. She contends, like Marcuse, that repression of these basic human desires for freedom and pleasure have led to social barbarities throughout our history. Based on this unfortunate past which was the direct result of repression, the notion that individual rights should transcend any social arrangement or organization is imperative.

This is further explained by her philosophical and ethical basis of left-libertarianism which the author writes about in an essay included in her book Don’t Think, Smile (Willis 1999). She explains that:

… for at least two decades moral conservatives of both the right and the left have carried on a totalitarian antidrug crusade and a relentless campaign against every form of ‘freedom of personal behavior,’ from abortion and divorce to the production and consumption of sexually dissident art and ‘unwholesome’ popular culture to teenage sex and flirting in the office. In this cramped, guilt-ridden social atmosphere, right libertarianism has flourished, tapping people’s frustration with politics and encouraging them to direct their thwarted impulses toward freedom into the narrow channels of freedom from taxes, freedom from ‘political correctness,’ freedom to resent the poor, freedom to discriminate, freedom to dream of sharing in the bounty of capitalist expansion (186).

Here, one can see clearly how right-wing libertarians have ridden the crest of frustration produced by repressive attitudes. Willis would like to see the left re-engage in the discourse of personal freedom: a notion which is viewed by the left with skepticism. Like Fox-Genovese, the left seems to be frightened of the will to power, and this leads them to the conclusion that personal freedom is inherently dangerous. To counter this fear, Willis contends that a lack of repression will result in spontaneous organization rather than chaos, and that there is no such thing as a free society without free individuals.

Fox-Genovese versus Willis

Though Fox-Genovese and Willis are both feminists who acknowledge that the power of individualism has been a liberating force, leading to the hope of emancipation and feminist thought, they are quite in opposition when it comes to value or soundness of the philosophy. Fox-Genovese holds some particular notions about human beings, biological essentialism, and society. First, she believes that in order to have a safe and just system, human beings must be controlled. Two ideas contribute to this belief: one is that human beings uncontrolled are amoral and prone to violence or domination, and the other is that there are certain essential traits held by men and women that are in constant opposition and are biologically determined. Second, she argues, and quite compellingly, that human rights rest not on themselves but on the foundation of society. As such, human rights cannot exist where there is no society. Therefore, the well-being of society must precede the well-being of the individual. Willis would argue that a society made up of unfree individuals cannot call itself a free society. Where Fox-Genovese sees chaos in a society without law, Willis sees the potential for spontaneous social order. The basis of this belief stands in contrast to Fox-Genovese’s premises: namely, that human beings do not collapse into amorality when uncontrolled, and that the differences between men and women are mainly socially constructed rather than biologically determined. This difference between how the authors view the nature and capacity of human beings shapes the course of their arguments.

The differing positions of Fox-Genovese and Willis can also be understood through the ethical distinction of Jeremy Bentham’s utilitarianism and John Locke’s natural or moral rights. In utilitarianism the ends justify the means. If one can produce the greatest possible good, and in the process one tramples on a few individuals rights, this can be seen as justified and ethical as the greatest possible good has been achieved. When Fox-Genovese states that were it up to her she would, “ban the more extreme forms [of pornography] without a second thought, and with precious few worries about the public expressions of healthy sexuality that might be banned along with them” (88), she is essentially making a utilitarian argument: That the benefit that accrues to society as a result of banning certain forms of pornography is more important than the few individual rights such a ban would intrude upon. Willis, on the other hand, argues that personal rights, which brought us out of slavery and which brings hope of emancipation from domination of all kinds, should be considered inalienable and should not be subverted to the collective will. Her approach, essentially, is that when one lives in an ethical system where the rights of the individual are of the utmost importance, our task is to be critical of how individualism masks forms of domination, rather than tossing out the notion of individualism altogether. To toss out individualism would lead to repression, and Willis believes that social repression of personal freedom has historically led to social catastrophes.

Discussion

I have been a socialist for the past 16 years. However, I have found that I have many difficulties with the viability or desirability of a truly communitarian world. In reading Willis, recently I find myself very much drawn to the messages of personal freedom and individual rights. Our country is characterized by varying political beliefs, religions, ethnicities, and cultures. To achieve a communitarian socialist vision is not only unrealistic, it is questionable to me now whether or not it would be desirable. Having read Freud and Marcuse, I can see how repressive conditions have led the masses to deliver dictators rather than an economic revolutions. Coercing half of the population to endure a political system that they do not agree with is repression, and if this model proves to be true, it would only serve to deliver more atrocities. A system which held personal rights inviolate would ideally produce the least amount of repression. Recently, while sitting in a beginning sociology lecture, I was struck when the professor made the assertion that slavery was preferable to wage-labor, because slave owners were responsible for the slaves’ well-being. This was said, I am sure, to communicate that in a wage-labor system the employer has no obligation to you beyond the wage and that one’s well-being is one’s own problem. Nonetheless, I felt that arriving at such a conclusion must indicate a serious lack of perspective or priorities. It was a comment that exemplifies the priorities of the left: that personal freedom is dependent on freedom from hunger and freedom from illness. I doubt many prisoners would feel this way, and I don’t think I do either. The idea that this mode of thinking might become dominant and enforced over others made me cringe. This has contributed to a re-evaluation of my communitarian philosophy, and a concomitant exploration of left-libertarianism.

Of the weaknesses I can see, I will mention one. Willis seems to ignore the fact that rights are in themselves socially determined. The American right to own property was unfathomable to the Native Americans whose land we took. Therefore, how realistic are rights which are not negotiated first by the community? However, this temporary reification of the concept of rights might service in our society, and allow us to approach social justice concerns in a way that is more palatable to a wider range of people, garner greater support, and lead to more equitable change. As Willis contends, it might just save the left from themselves.

References

Introduction

Foucault was heavily influenced by Nietzsche’s genealogical approach to the analysis of history. This method seeks to find the development of structures, language and values over time. In On the Genealogy of Morals, Nietzsche examines the revaluation of what we consider good and bad, and good and evil; he also examines the development of what he calls the “bad conscience.” Similarly, this approach was used by Foucault when he examined the development of the prison, and also the development of the subject. Out of this examination grows Foucault’s analysis of knowledge and power. This is seen by many as a break with previous structuralist theories of power, such as Marxism, which concentrated only on economic power. For Foucault, power was also dependent on knowledge, and visa versa. The development of knowledge in the human sciences specifically, along with new means of surveillance, leads to the refinement and amplification of the individual as subject. Though this seems to depart from Marxism, the two lines of thinking might be more reconcilable than previously thought. In conclusion, Foucault’s analysis provides a more nuanced approach to the notion of power and is incredibly useful in the examination of our present surveillance society.

Nietzsche’s Genealogical Method

In 1887, Friedrich Nietzsche (1989) published On The Genealogy of Morals, a work that used a new approach in analyzing history. He was interested in examining how particular traits, which were once considered unfortunate, have been transformed into positive traits and what effect this has had on humanity. In this work, Nietzsche examined changes in language pertaining to the notions of good, bad, and evil throughout time. As indicated by the title of the work, Nietzsche termed this method genealogy, and this new approach influenced many thinkers to come. The emphasis on language, or signs, also had a tremendous impact on subsequent thought.

Nietzsche takes the position, at the outset, that, “we need a critique of moral values, the value of these values themselves must be called into question – and for that is needed a knowledge of the conditions and circumstances in which they grew, under which they evolved and changed…” (20). Here essentially is his genealogy. Rather than take signs, symbols, morals, structures, etc. as being given, absolute, or holding inherent value, in order to be truly critical one must understand their relativity and their history. At what point did humility become virtuous? What about pity, self-sacrifice, hard-work, or other traits. Nietzsche concludes that these ideas of virtue stem from what he terms a “slave morality.” This is a morality which glorifies powerlessness, restraint, self-denial. In fact, most of the traits which powerless individuals were forced into, through their subservience to the more powerful, came to be seen as possessing greater virtue. Nietzsche is highly disturbed by this notion.

Implicit throughout Nietzsche’s argument is that language is more powerful than has previously been admitted. He states that “The lordly right of giving names extends so far that one should allow oneself to conceive the origin of language itself as an expression of power on the part of the rulers…” (26). Rather than power being rooted only in economic means, power needs to be seen as rooted also in the ability to influence language. From Nietzsche’s perspective the distinction between good versus bad, and good versus evil comes from the ability of the speaker to act. It might be said that for those who are liberated and able to act in a manner of their own choosing, who are not burdened by work for their survival, evil might not be a concern. They might look down on those who are not able to act, who must work hard to survive, and might see these things as bad, but not evil. Where speakers are not free, who must deny their own wishes and subordinate their actions to the wishes of others, will see themselves as good and virtuous, and will see the traits of their oppressors as evil. The origin of modern morality comes from a linguistic revaluation.

This linguistic turn resulted in a stunning change. As virtue became connected with previously regarded negatives, the purpose of punishment, among other things, shifted. Rather than punishment acting to address a particular harm done, to exact a penalty for a social error, punishment became a mode of awakening what Nietzsche calls the “bad conscience.” In contrast, Nietzsche states that previous to this, “judges… themselves were not at all conscious of dealing with a ‘guilty person.’ But with an instigator of harm…. And the person upon whom punishment subsequently descended… felt no ‘inward pain…’” (82). This linguistic turn, in other words, resulted in the development of the individual as subject. What else is guilt but self-repression or self-domination. In order for a slave morality to function, there must be domination and this should come from the subject.

Foucault’s use of the Genealogical Method

Foucault (1995) was very much inspired by Nietzsche and utilized his genealogical approach. Like Nietzsche, who examined morality from the perspective of its progression in history and language, Foucault in Discipline and Punish examined the history of the prison in much the same way. He examined the development of punishment and prisons throughout history, noting their changes in functions, actions and structures through time. This analysis led him to Jeremy Bentham’s panopticon, a model for an ideal prison. In the structure of this prison, now a model for many other buildings, he sees a clear example of society creating the subject in the individual.

Foucault describes a progression, from early forms of punishment, to modern incarceration. His book starts with graphic descriptions, from several sources, of the execution of Damiens the regicide. The “patient” (what was then termed the object of punishment) was condemned to have his flesh torn from his arms, legs, and neck; his hand which held the murder weapon burnt with sulfur; in those places where his flesh was removed was to be poured molten lead, resin, sulfur, wax and oil; his body drawn and quartered; his remains burnt; and his ashes tossed into the wind. Through this description, Foucault begins defining how, in the days of sovereigns, the purpose of punishment was to exercise or imprint the power of the monarch onto the body of his enemy. This is distinct from the purpose of punishment today, which seeks to create a conscience in the punished, to normalize them, or correct them. Surprisingly enough, Foucault would argue that this transition does not necessarily represent a progress or an improvement. Present day punishment is meant to create a subject – to internalize surveillance of behavior so that each subject behaves in the “proper” way without the need for external coercion.

Through this progression Foucault describes the developments of several forms of specialized knowledge that were tied to discipline. The advent of the human sciences, Foucault observes, runs concomitantly to the development of the individual as a subject. The present day judicial system is augmented with layers of specialists in the human sciences. For example, it is not unusual to see doctors and psychologists called in to examine and assess criminals. In fact, the notion of deviance stems from this addition of the human sciences to the juridical process. Deviance, in itself, literally means a distance from the norm. There is normal behavior, healthy behavior, and if one does not fall within this parameter one is labeled a deviant. Foucault argues that this emphasis on what is normal and what is deviant was never as great as it is today. It is only through the transformation of the individual as a subject of study (the development of the human sciences) that this is possible.

To have fully accepted the idea that all individuals are subjects, and all are subjected to observation, requires structural changes, even in architecture. In the 1800′s, Jeremy Bentham created a new structure for a prison. He called this structure a panopticon. It is essentially a structure arranged in such a way that all points within the structure can be observed from a single location. In Bentham’s model this was a round, multi-story prison with a guard tower in the center which could be seen out of but not into. The result of this was that all prisoners were aware that they could be observed at any point, but could never tell when this was or who was doing it. Today, this architectural layout can be seen in many different buildings having little to do with prisons. For example, lecture halls or classrooms are structured so that the instructor can see all of the students, critical care units in hospitals are arranged so that all beds are viewable from a central nurses station, and, of course, prisons are still structured in a similar way. The point of this arrangement is efficient surveillance. In all cases the panopticon, structurally, creates subjects. Whether in a hospital, prison, or classroom, one can be certain of continual observation, and the effect of this certainty is the creation of an internal observer.

This transition Foucault describes from punishment (the power of the sovereign directly inflicting itself on the body of the enemy), to discipline (the internalization of norms of appropriate behavior) is tied to industrialized capitalism. When larger amounts of capital needed to be openly available to workers in factories, where goods were produced, the burden of protecting assets from theft became overwhelming. It was far more efficient to produce a conscience in individuals than to observe them constantly. This is not to say that norms and values did not exist before this point, only that it was refined and amplified in industrialized capitalism through the notions of normative behavior developed by the human sciences and the potential of constant observation.

Knowledge and Power, for Foucault, for Marxists

For Foucault, power is closely tied to knowledge, in fact he sees these as inseparable. This is a departure from the structuralist or Marxist perspective of power referring strictly to economic power. Where Marxists see power as residing in vast economic structures, or on a macro level, Foucault sees power existing within interactions (between the observer and the observed, for example). Though this seems to be a point where Foucault departs from Marxist thought (and where strict Marxists disagree with Foucault), this more complex vision of power might not be so much at odds with Marxism than originally thought. There are several elements that combine smoothly and these should be examined.

As mentioned, there is therefore a link for Foucault between knowledge and power. It takes power to create knowledge, insofar as power is required to access resources to produce knowledge and to produce the legitimacy required for that knowledge to be seen as true. Once knowledge is created it creates additional power. To hold legitimate knowledge is to hold power over other individuals who do not hold that knowledge. That knowledge allows the holder to observe others and mark their behavior as normal or deviant. Hence, the creation of knowledge is the creation of power, and power is required to produce subsequent knowledge. Furthermore, the internalization of knowledge creates within the subject an observer, wherein individuals compare their own behavior to what they have learned is “normal.”

Marxist theories of power are rooted in economic arrangements (Marx and Engels 1978). Specifically, those who hold an economically dominant position will necessarily hold power. Foucault’s perspective is obviously a departure from this notion. For Foucault, power is linked to knowledge and truth, and is something which is highly internalized in modern day individuals. However, how much of a departure from Marxism is this? There is a famous Marxist idea that the ruling ideas of any age are the ideas of the ruling class. In other words, what is believed by the majority has been inculcated through their exposure to a superstructure (a system of institutions whose sole purpose is to purvey ideologies, such as churches, universities, etc…). This seems fairly similar to the link between knowledge and power. Ruling ideas in Marxist language might be phrased in Foucault’s as legitimate knowledge. Those who hold economic control also have the means to direct the production of knowledge, and this knowledge will likely not challenge their position as power holders. Foucault seems not so much to disagree with Marxists but really enhances how their somewhat undeveloped theory of power could be elaborated.

Foucault’s theory of knowledge and power can render a more satisfactory account of how vast disparities in power remain uncontested. If we go back to the factories of early industrialized capitalism, from which Foucault states this transition of power was effected, there was an incredible amount of capital, in the form of tools, supplies, and raw materials, which could be stolen by any of the huge numbers of workers coming into the new factories. Foucault sees that this amount of capital lying vulnerable to theft created an incredible burden of surveillance for capitalists. The panopticon created the impression that one is subject to observation at any moment, and one never knows when one will be observed.

The arrangements of some factories must have had a similar structure, where the boss sat above, able to observe the workforce below. Moreover, this structure created an internal observer which evaluated an individuals behavior from an external perspective: a person as subject. However, evaluations require knowledge. To determine what is deviant, one must know what is normal. Therefore, if one can create the knowledge that stealing is abnormal, then as a result individuals will steal less. The factory floor will be safer, and observation will be less necessary. Individual impulses and desires, rather than being curbed by external repression, will be curbed by the self. Knowledge, created by powerful interests, protects the interests of the powerful in a massively efficient way, by shifting the burden of enforcement from those that dominate to the subjects that are dominated. Foucault comments, that “the external power may throw off its physical weight; it tends to the non-corporal; and, the more it approaches this limit, the more constant, profound and permanent are its effects: it is a perpetual victory that avoids any physical confrontation and which is always decided in advance” (203).

Discussion

I believe that Foucault makes a very compelling case. By extending the burden of repression to the level of the self, hegemonic interests can maintain their position with less expended energy. By cultivating a guilty conscience in one’s subjects, fewer measures have to be taken to control behavior. Foucault alludes to this idea early on, noting that, “the power exercised on the body is conceived not as a property, but as a strategy…” (26). In other words, rather than power being something that one possesses, power is something that one practices. When I walked into the classroom of the sociology discussion sections I taught this semester, the students quieted down, sat facing me, and when I began to speak maintained a respectful silence. Why? This was not something that I had to tell them to do at the beginning of the class, this was a discipline that they had learned, internalized, and practiced. It was enforced by the arrangement of the classroom. I could see each student. If one talked to a buddy, I could observe them. In fact I made sure they knew they were being observed. This is what Foucault is interested in: how power plays out, not in social structures, but in personal interactions.

References

Introduction

Like so many other aspects of social theory, debates on language and gender have occurred over issues of structure and agency. Critical Discourse Analysis has sought to understand how language is reflective of social structure, that it is produced by particular relations of power and domination (Hodge and Kress 1993; Fowler et al. 1979; Talbot 1998). This is similar to the Marxist notion that the ruling ideas at any time are the ideas of the ruling class which are perpetuated by the superstructure, or the institutions that are responsible for the dissemination of “legitimate” discourse or ideology (Marx and Engels 1978). It is also similar to a cultural production perspective, which argues that cultural artifacts are created and fed to a somewhat duped public (Peterson 1997). Both of these perspectives downplay personal agency in the creating of discourse and culture. In response to this issue some scholars have responded by concentrating on how individuals create, interpret and negotiate meanings of discourse or cultural artifacts through what are sometimes called “Communities of Practice” (CofP) (Talbot 1998; Cahill 1986; Bergvall 1999). Likewise, these latter theories which concentrate on micro-level, local interactions are criticized for not addressing the impact of structure on discourse and culture.

How can these two views be reconciled? The answer might come from the approach to the sociology of culture found in Ann Swidler’s (2001), Talk of Love. In this work, Swidler introduces the notion of culture as toolkit. Instead of viewing culture as a lens through which the world is viewed (as with Clifford Geertz’ (1973) approach to thickly described cultural anthropology), or the the opposed notion that culture is absolutely defined by its participants, Swidler effectively reconciles pre-existing cultural patterns of discourse (presumably arising from structure), and also seeks to understand how individuals use these pre-existing patterns to interpret their lives. Swidler’s analysis allows for agency at the individual level, to pick and choose what cultural messages are most appropriate to negotiate or to create meaning for the situations they describe.

The relatively recent advent of the Internet has fundamentally altered the manner of cultural and discourse production and distribution, and has expanded communities of practice to a global scale. This paper explores the Internet’s impact on discourse by discussing the underlying theoretical assumptions embedded in DA, CofP and Swidler’s Culture as Toolkit. In thinking about the Internet as an example of a new medium of discourse, through which culture is exchanged, a better understanding can be reached about presently held notions regarding language and gender.

Discourse Analysis: The imposition of structure on language

There are several authors who have written from a critical discourse analysis perspective. Hodge and Kress (1993) wrote Language as Ideology, which concentrates on the manners through which structure becomes embedded in language. Language and Control by Fowler et al. (1979), explores, among other topics, how structural location impacts discourse availability. In their article on perceptions of gender inequality in the workplace, Ngo et al. (2003) provide an example of how structural location might impact discourse. Peterson (1997), though not exploring language particularly, gives an analogous example of structure’s impact on the production of culture in his work Creating Country Music. All of these works tend to give primacy to structure in the shaping of language.

In their book Language as Ideology, Hodge and Kress (1993) make the argument that language essentially reflects social structure. From such a perspective, language as it exists is a reflection of asymmetrical power relations. There are a variety of mechanisms through which structure imprints itself in language, such as through forms of legitimacy certain groups possess in society which gives their words more weight and meaning to broader society. This in turn creates an advantage for the ideas, ideologies, and the language of powerful interests to become the language of all. The authors state that, “Language is an instrument of control as well as communication. Linguistic forms allow significance to be conveyed and to be distorted. In this way hearers can be both manipulated and informed, preferably manipulated while they suppose they are being informed. Language is ideological in another, more political, sense of that word: it involves systematic distortion in the service of class interests” (6). Here, it is apparent that language is dependent, so to speak, on structure; that language almost must have a structure that shapes its purposes.

In Language and Control, Fowler et al. (1979), argue that where an individual is located in a social structure impacts what types of discourse are available to them, and this in turn modifies the way that the speaker sees and interacts with the world. The authors state that “syntax can code a world-view without any conscious choice on the part of a writer or speaker” (185). One could make the illustration that the language which is available to a college professor is going to be much different than that available to a high school student, and that if either adopted the language of the other they would likely do so in the face of ostracism. Furthermore, the language that is used by these two very different individuals will provide them altering visions of the world, its scope, and the potential to have an impact on it. The words “conscious choice” here reveal the power of the speaker to create their reality through language. This reality is shaped for them through the language they are unconsciously using. This concept, obviously, has profound implications for gender, as men and women occupy different social strata and therefore have access to different language. This perspective would argue that men and women, by the act of communicating, reinforce existing social structures.

In “Who Gets More of the Pie,” Ngo et al. (1979) discuss predictors of perceptions of inequalities in the workplace. Though this was a predominantly survey based study, it arguably demonstrates the impact of structure on language. In this study the authors found several predictors of perceptions of inequality in the workplace. Two of their confirmed hypotheses were that a higher perception of inequality was linked to an unequal ratio of men and women workers, and a that there was a lower perception of inequality if the boss was a woman. Though this may seem like it might have little to do with language, it does indicate that individuals will talk differently about inequality in organizations with different characteristics (insofar as these individuals chose to describe their perceptions by selecting different linguistic categories). In other words, an individual’s structural placement might have a significant impact on the patterns of discourse available to them. This can also be seen in their first confirmed hypothesis: that both men and women will perceive inequality but women will feel it to be more pronounced than the men. One can argue that a man’s or a woman’s position in society will affect the discourse available to them. A shortcoming of this argument, however, is that is places the onus on language rather than perception. One could plausibly say that individuals are unable to have perceptions which are distinct from the discourse patterns available to them. Are the women in this study perceiving greater inequality, or is the language of inequality spoken more by women? Again, this perspective minimizes the role of speakers in creating meaning, tying them instead to the discourse patterns that are available in their structural position.

To be fair, Fowler et al. (1979) do mention that discourse does impact structure (which is a root of contention for those who criticize discourse analysis). The authors argue, however, that the usual impact is limited to strengthening or reaffirming existing power disparities and arrangements of the existing structure. This is an important point. Yet, its implications are that language is predominantly a product of structure, or a pawn used by powerful interests to create or maintain structure, rather than having much power in and of itself. This perspective sees the root of structural change as coming from a direct assault on structure, save for a very deliberate and concerted effort to self-consciously change language on the widest possible scale. Therefore, this aspect of the power of language to change structure is downplayed in much of the critical discourse analysis literature.

Richard Peterson is an author who has written extensively on cultural production, which can be viewed as analogous to the production of discourse and therefore its imposition on a community. In his book Creating Country Music: Creating Authenticity (1997), Peterson explores how country music was created and distributed by burgeoning commercial interests. Originally, country music originated in the Ozarks. Shunned by most music industry professionals, it was a form of music enjoyed by a relatively small subpopulation. Only after a few key individuals recognized that there was a market for what was then called “hillbilly” music, they began to record, distribute and promote it country music began to gain popularity. The author states that, “a number of efforts and trends came to fruition institutionalizing the field that was coming to be called ‘country,’ and fixing its ethos in ‘authenticity and originality’” (201). Country western music of today is actually the result of a concerted industry effort to align this music with singing cowboys like Gene Autry (and John Wayne strangely enough). Peterson argues that what makes country music so appealing to listeners, and the quality sought by music producers, is “authenticity.” Of course, it is ironic that this is the quality so important in country music which is itself a totally inauthentic fabrication. What does this have to do with language? In the case of country music, it gained popularity and acceptance as the result of a concerted effort of a small group of influential people to define a new cultural artifact, along with a new structure to produce, promote and distribute it. Words like “authentic” are used to describe country music artists, and this is due in large part to the efforts of a group of powerful actors to define how this music would be described, rather than the organic formation of language by, say, a group of enthusiasts. It is therefore an example of language arising from structure.

What is most important in this illustration is that there is a good argument that can be made for cultural or discourse production perspectives. That authenticity in country music is a trait sought after by fans is a music industry marketing feat. Selling this to listeners involves, to a certain degree, duping them. To say that country music is inherently inauthentic would offend the majority of listeners. Likewise, language is thought of as natural, yet it in itself is the result of widespread, agreed upon norms. As there is no such thing as a natural manner of speaking (just as there is no such thing as authentic country music) language does reflect the structural arrangements of power. Discourse patterns (like culture) are, to a good extent, the result of powerful interest acting on instruments of mass media. However, structure in itself cannot be the whole picture when it comes to the creation of language. For these perspectives to maintain their explanatory power, the audience of discourse must be passive. For an audience to be duped they must play little to no role in analyzing the performance. Or, as in a magic act, they must expect particular outcomes, while being cleverly manipulated by techniques of diversion and deception employed by the magician. Yet analyses of communities of practice, and cultural reception, argue that the audience has a far greater role in the creation and negotiation of meanings, and therefore have more power than critical discourse analysis or cultural production perspectives had given them credit for.

Communities of Practice: The creation of gender meanings in discourse communities

Mary Talbot (1998) points out that there are two main views in language and gender. The first of these is that language reflects structure, and the other is that language creates structure. She states in her book, Language and Gender, that, “one view of the relationship between language and gender – which might be called the ‘weak’ one – is that language simply reflects society, so that social divisions on gender grounds are reflected in patterns of language use. …[yet] according to a ‘stronger’ view, language does not just reflect gender divisions; it actually creates them” (14). This shift in perspective from the power of the structure to the power of the speaker, transforms the emphasis of critical discourse analysis and cultural production perspectives by taking power away from those that dominate and offering it to anyone who has the ability to speak. Rather than an audience passively accepting the products of the producers, they play a role in shaping those products, or creating them from scratch.

In keeping with this shift in perspective, Bergvall (1998) draws on Eckert and McConnell-Ginet (1992) to explore Communities of Practice in her work “Toward a Comprehensive Theory of Language and Gender.” Though she argues that the Communities of Practice perspective, in itself, is not comprehensive enough to explain all linguistic phenomenon, she nonetheless admits that it recognizes “that diversity within categories was not merely noise in the system, but a natural result of membership in a number of overlapping social communities of practice that must be accounted for by theory” (279). In attempting to account for the linguistic variability within groups, Community of Practice theory begins to chip away at the primacy of structure over language and returns analysis to the agency of the individuals inhabiting speech communities.

The Communities of Practice perspective spends much more time looking at language which occurs at a local level rather than at a systemic level. Eckert and McConnell-Ginet draw from Gumperz (1972) in defining “a speech community as a group of speakers who share rules and norms for the use of a language. This definition suggests the importance of practice in delineating sociolinguistically significant groupings …” (464). As opposed to critical discourse analysis which emphasizes the notion that language stems from structure, this places more power in the hands of individuals who use language to play a role in creating it. Though one could make the argument that communities of practice are likely to be arranged according to existing structure, it does not necessarily follow that the language available is particularly dependent on the speech community’s structural placement. Only that a distinct structural location will likely have a distinct speech community.

In “Hierarchies, Jobs, Bodies,” the author argues that organizations, though often viewed as gender neutral, in reality embody many gender assumptions (Acker 1990). For example, a job description might be perceived as standing on its own (having little to do with gender), to be determined by the needs of a particular role in an organization. However, this view not only ignores that job descriptions have a history, and that this history involves individuals deciding what traits are required for a position, but that these traits are often highly gender specific. Acker argues that job descriptions (and the so-called neutral language found within them) mask the gender assumptions of a pre-existing group (Community of Practice). When examining job descriptions, one must acknowledge that a particular speech community has embedded its notions of gender in the structure of the organization, rather than the structure of the organization itself dictating the language to be used in the job description.

What is important in this shift of emphasis from a macro-level structural analysis, to a micro-level community or individual analysis, is that an audience or community can renegotiate the meaning of a cultural product (like language) and thus influence its meaning and subsequent production. In her book Reading the Romance: Women, Patriarchy, and Popular Culture, Janice Radway (1986) examines the interpretation of romance novels by a group of Midwestern women romance readers. She finds that, rather than the romance dictating its meaning to its readers, often the cultural artifact of the romance novel is the subject of meaning imposed by its audience. For example, the novels in this study were the subject of tension between the women readers and their husbands. The readers dealt with this tension by transforming the meaning of reading the novels to other more “justifiable” purposes. They often explained that reading historical romance novels were edifying due to the tidbits of historical information they acquired, therefore making the activity “acceptable” in the eyes of their husbands. Again, one could make the counter argument that this language activity is responding to structural pressures, to pervert itself from pure enjoyment to “productive” activity in order to legitimate itself in the eyes of men who occupy a dominant structural position. This is an important observation. However, the individuals in the study are in control of modifying the discourse, rather than the discourse being foisted on them by structure. There seems, however, something of both structure and agency operating here. In keeping with this observation, Mary Talbot (1998) argues that a middle ground between the notion of language reflecting structure and creating it might be more appropriate, and this leads us to the next section.

Swidler’s Culture as Toolkit: A potential reconciliation of DA and CofP

Swidler (2001), wrote Talk of Love: How Culture Matters. This work, having to do with the sociology of culture, was groundbreaking, and can be seen as pertinent to our discussion of language and gender. In this study, so appropriately titled, the author explores the ways in which people talk about their love lives. What is significant is the ways Swidler found that her subjects were talking about the subject. She discovered two major themes running throughout her conversations: romantic love and prosaic love. Romantic love is exactly what the term implies. Romantic talk of love often referred to its eternal nature, or its spontaneous and fated nature. Such ideas might include, ‘it was meant to be,’ ‘love at first sight,’ or ‘love is forever.’ Her subjects would often switch between romantic and prosaic love talk. Prosaic love talk is more mundane, and often centers on the notions of the day to day work of developing and sustaining a relationship. It also came to the rescue when relationships did not go as planned, perhaps saying, ‘there are more fish in the sea,’ or ‘sometimes people just don’t get along with each other.’

What is important in this work is the persistent and necessary interplay of existing discourse patterns (from popular culture, hackneyed idioms, etc) that are established language in which agency is limited, and the speaker’s actual choice exhibited in the appropriate picking and choosing from two very dissimilar themes in talking about an important subject. In other words, to describe their reality, Swidler’s subjects drew from their toolkit of existing patterned discourses about love, and these discourses were predominantly limited to two main camps: romantic and prosaic. These were the tools available at that time, but what if there were more? What prerequisites are there for discourse patterns to emerge?

One can argue that there must be a widespread recognition of a particular discourse pattern. Were I to liken love to a computer program, which must be able to run on a particular operating system, which in turn must be able to run on a particular hardware configuration with certain necessary components, most people would probably be amused by such a description, unconvinced of its applicability and perhaps my sanity. Yet, might this response be due the lack of an established convention? The lack of a tool in the cultural toolbox which likens love to software? An example might be pulled from the title of the first chapter of Betty Friedan’s (1963) book, The Feminine Mystique, called “The Problem that Has No Name.” The title of the chapter, which summarily explores the evidence of a growing dissatisfaction among women in the 1950′s and 60′s, rather poetically illustrates this point. Women did not possess the cultural or linguistic tool for naming and discussing this issue as a widespread social problem, and as a result sought the source of their discontent in themselves, or institutions like education which gave them aspirations that they were hindered from attaining. It was not until Friedan’s book was published (when the cultural or linguistic artifact was produced and distributed) that the tool became available, and women could talk about this issue using a common vocabulary.

We can see where Swidler’s analysis can be useful in talking about language and gender. Language does arise from structures, and structural position can affect the discourse available to an individual to a certain extent. Likewise, language can alter structures, and communities of practice do, in fact, modify discourse all the time. Swidler’s argument might contend that individuals have agency, but only as much as the cultural tools exist to be used. Altering language, in the long run, can change structure providing alterations are widely adopted, understood and accepted by the discourse community. Failing this, alterations are likely to fall on deaf ears which are as yet untrained on the new discourse pattern.

The Impact of the Internet: its implications for gender discourse

Previous critical discourse analysis and cultural production perspectives have at their core the notion that a dominant set of interests is able to perpetuate discourse or culture through some mass media; the Communities of Practice perspective emphasizes the importance of local speech communities in the formation of discourse tools; and Swidler’s cultural toolkit approach seems to mix both, by acknowledging the need for widely accepted discourse patterns that speakers can choose from. Historically, the source of widespread discourse patterns must have arisen from mass media outlets: television programs, books, movies, magazines, etc. Insofar as these outlets were widely consumed, their capacity to create and maintain discourse patterns in society was unparalleled. Likewise, as they were controlled by a small set of controlling interests, the argument could be made that these interests held a disproportionate sway over what was being discussed, and how those things were being discussed. In other words, these interests held the means of production of cultural tools, and could therefore control to a large degree society’s discourse. This is no longer the case today.

As of 2006, there were seventy thousand blogs on-line, a number which was reportedly doubling every six months (2009). Though mass media outlets of television, film and print are still in existence, and still hold incredible power, the advent and growing popularity of the Internet has undeniably resulted in a diffusion of the capacity to produce and distribute new cultural artifacts or discourse patterns. Rather than this power being held by small interests with the resources vast enough to spread their message over large populations, this capacity is now held by anyone with access to the Internet. Furthermore, when large outlets do release cultural or linguistic artifacts, an event which previously would have resulted in widespread adoption and localized critique or response, now the popular response is immediate and open to potentially world-wide audiences. Criticism or praise for the new artifact on-line shapes its subsequent impact in a way that was never possible, and in a scope that was unthinkable before the Internet. Before, there was a relatively monological dissemination of new artifacts, with public response isolated by region and haphazardly arranged interpersonal networks. Now, the network is tying together a response which is accessible by anyone in the world who is interested and searches for it. Rather than limitation by region or social network, one can now hear responses from around the globe. Rather than particular responses being bound by location, responses can now be tied together by topic with the result that a far greater variety of responses can become known much more rapidly.

Swidler’s cultural toolkit model takes into account two important aspects of language and culture. On one hand, there is the importance of structure in establishing widely recognizable discourse patterns (ways of speaking about things), and on the other there is the importance of agency when an individual chooses the most appropriate discourse pattern from those that are available. However, new discourse patterns must become widely accepted before they can be considered a part of the toolkit. Previously, this widespread broadcasting was done through the means of a mass media. Now, the Internet is providing a platform for discourse creation and distribution that is open to anyone who wants to put in the comparatively insubstantial resources to start a blog, participate in discussion groups, forums, or on-line chats. Rather than discourse being created and disseminated by a few fixed outlets, discourse is now being created and disseminated through hundreds of thousands of relatively small, often private sources. No longer is the means of global proliferation of ideas constrained to vast commercial interests. Now, a global platform can be established by anyone. The consequence of this, from a culture as a toolkit approach, is that the possibility of new patterns of discourse which people might choose to use in speaking about gender or any other topic, is vastly increased as the source of their creation is ever expanding. Furthermore, the possibility that these new patterns might gain widespread acceptance is greatly increased though their inevitable reverberations through subsequent topically defined sources.

Of course there are a couple of arguments which could be made that might counter this development. One is that there is a crisis of legitimacy of new sources of discourse: that the sources must acquire credibility before their patterns of discourse gain the widespread acceptance required for its entry into more common parlance. The important thing to note here is the power of language itself to convey credibility. For example, many academic journal articles which have explored a particular topic using a subjective, non-generalizable method, often borrow the linguistic styles of so-called objective, scientific papers in order to convey their legitimacy (where the source of legitimacy in this case is science). Another example might be an article in a Marxist journal talking about “class struggle,” “dialectical materialism,” or “wage-slavery” (where the source of legitimacy is knowledge of the works of Marx). Credentials have little importance here. My point in mentioning these examples is that legitimacy can often be created using linguistic styles appropriate to the topic at hand. In fact it might be the only route to establishing credibility. Providing one can communicate successfully using the style the audience expects of a reliable source, legitimacy follows.

Another argument that could be made against what seems to be the democratic promise of the Internet is that too much diffusion will limit the likelihood of widespread acceptance, or that the din of too many competing discourses will effectively drown out all of them. This certainly does seem possible. At the very least, the most salient or popular discourses available on the Internet that are consistent with dominant interests will be selected to be broadcast on major media outlets, thus maintaining dominant ideas while touting them as arising naturally from a global network of users, while less popular messages are passed over, seen as unpopular or incredible, insignificant, or inapplicable to the larger society. To this I must return to the original observation: at no time before the present has there existed so many outlets of new discourse, controlled and accessible by so many. There is an undeniable opportunity to make new modes of speaking, new discourses available to a vast audience. There is a threat of being drowned out by a crowd of other voices, but there is also the promise of making an impact on language (and therefore structure). Why not take advantage of this opportunity?

References

The nature of an Hegelian dialectic is that of a triad, specifically thesis, antithesis and synthesis. What seems a simple and somewhat apparent procedure can become cumbersome and difficult, especially when considering two vastly different viewpoints. For example, how can one reconcile Freud’s theory of civilization with Marx’s conflict theory? For Freud (1989), society is inherently repressive as it depends upon the sublimation of personal libidinal satisfaction for its progress and development. For Marx (1978), society is not inherently repressive, but can be in certain economic systems, especially when the system creates vast disparities in wealth and power. The seemingly impossible task of synthesizing these two theories is quite compellingly undertaken by Herbert Marcuse (1974) in his book Eros and Civilization.

Marcuse recognized shortcomings in both Marx’s and Freud’s theories. For example, Marx (1978) was convinced that the working class would deliver a socialist revolution that would replace vulgar capitalism. Marx states in the “Manifesto to the Communist Party,” that, “What the bourgeoisie… produces… is its own grave-diggers. It’s fall and the victory of the proletariat are equally inevitable [emphasis my own]” (483). However, instead of delivering up the revolution, Marcuse saw that the proletariat delivered, time and time again, dictators and tyrants. For an answer to this inconsistency Marcuse turns to Freud. For Freud (1989), the super-ego, or guilt, which can be seen as an internalized repression originates with the killing of the primal Father. He theorizes that, “What began in relation to the father is completed in relation to the group” (96). Marcuse (1974) states, “The struggle against freedom reproduces itself in the psyche of man, as the self-repression of the repressed individual, and his self-repression in turn sustains his masters and their institutions” (16). Dictators and Tyrants, therefore, can be seen as arising from this sense of guilt (“the struggle against freedom”) as an underlying need for punishment or strict domination.

However, Marcuse notes that there are equal shortcomings in Freud’s theory. For example, Freud (1989) proposes the idea of a “reality principal:” or, the principal that one cannot simply fulfill one’s libidinal desires to one’s heart’s content, but that there is an external world one runs up against which might recoil or react in ways that produce pain or “unpleasure.” Marcuse (1974) notes, however, that this proposition fallaciously asserts one set of historical realities as simply the reality. In this way, Marx’s emphasis on the importance of understanding the historical development (or stage) of humanity is synthesized with Freud’s reality principal. Marcuse posits a new idea: the performance principal. This notion rectifies Freud’s error, that man’s reality is not absolute but is historical, and is therefore dependent on conditions specific to that time period. The performance principal is, “the prevailing historical form of the reality principal” (35).

One important aspect of rectifying Freud’s error of mis-attributing a historical reality to a general reality is that it allows the observer to understand that scarcity is not absolute, but rather it is tied to historical conditions. Where the production of food, for example, was a time consuming and cumbersome reality at some distant stage in the past, this is now no longer the case. Presently, the capacity to produce food is at such a point that production must be kept artificially low in order to protect markets. Scarcity, then, is artificially created and unequally distributed. Marcuse states that Freud’s notion that, due to scarcity, abject pleasure is incompatible with reality, is, “fallacious in so far as it applies to the brute fact of scarcity what actually is the consequence of a specific organization of scarcity…” (36). Why then is society still so repressive?

Marcuse admits that the sublimation of the libidinal instincts was necessary for the development of society. Marcuse remarks that throughout Freud’s works there is a propensity to indicate the best of society as a product of repression, that, “His work is characterized by an uncompromising insistence on showing up the repressive content of the highest values and achievements of culture” (17). Insofar as this is true, the progress of human civilization is based on what Marcuse terms, “organized domination” (34). However, many of these developments have progressed to such a state that the sublimation of the instincts would gradually no longer be required. To this Marcuse proposes another modified term.

For human beings to exist in civilization certain instincts need to be sublimated, or Marcuse says, “modified.” However, in social structures characterized by domination, further repression is necessary above and beyond this level of basic repression. Marcuse states that domination is not the same as a rational exercise of authority (which is rooted in any division of labor with its attendant specialized knowledge, and is focused on tasks which are ultimately beneficial to society). Domination is rooted in the self-interest of a person or group who occupies a position of power, for the purpose of maintaining that arrangement. As such, Marcuse defines surplus-repression as, “the restrictions necessitated by social domination [emphasis my own]” (35). In other words, there is a level of repression that is necessary for no other purpose than to maintain an existing unequal distribution of power. However, additional restrictions which are required to preserve “irrational scarcity, want, and constraint” (37) lead to subsequent “technical, material and intellectual” advances which further leads to the increasing irrationality of the system. Therefore, as the level of repression required for meeting the needs of humanity in civilization drops, the level of repression required for maintaining structures of social domination increase.

By successfully wedding Freudian and Marxist thought, Marcuse produces a richer and more sophisticated social theory which seems capable of greater interpretive scope. Marcuse states:

The discrepancy between potential liberation and actual repression has come to maturity…. The rationality of progress heightens the irrationality of its organization and direction. Social cohesion and administrative power are sufficiently strong to protect the whole from direct aggression, but not strong enough to eliminate the accumulated aggressiveness. It turns against those who do not belong to the whole, whose existence is its denial. This foe appears as the archenemy and the Antichrist himself: he is everywhere at all times; he represents hidden and sinister forces, and his omnipresence requires total mobilization. …There is regression to historical stages… and this regression reactivates the sado-masochistic phase on a national and international scale. But the impulses of this phase are reactivated in a new, “civilized” manner: practically without sublimation they become socially “useful” activities in concentration and labor camps, colonial and civil wars, in punitive expeditions, and so on. (101)

This is not to say that this irrationality is inevitable. It is restricted to a particular historical period based on specific forms and structures of social domination. The possibility of a non-repressive society exists, but it seems likely only in an environment where there are not structures of social domination which require the irrational subjugation of instinct for the sole purpose of their maintenance. While the theory is untested, it would be a worthy experiment to undertake. If nothing else, there might result less hunger and human suffering.

References

Freud, Sigmund. 1989. Civilization and Its Discontents. W W Norton & Co Inc.

Marcuse, Herbert. 1974. Eros and Civilization : A Philosophical Inquiry into Freud. Beacon Press.

Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. 1978. The Marx-Engels Reader. Second Edition. W.W. Norton & Co.

Understanding under what conditions social change occurs is obviously a looming sociological question, and examining the work of foundational social theorists is helpful. An examination of the analyses of Marx, Weber and Freud reveals various factors which could contribute to social change. These analyses, compellingly argued, stem from vastly different assumptions about man and society. Marx and Durkheim directly oppose one another regarding the source of ideology and social change, and Freud’s analysis, though not directly addressing these topics, can be viewed as a third perspective.

For Marx (1978) the object of primary interest is the structure of society itself. It is the social structure that creates the nature of human relations. As such, throughout history, society has been arranged in such a way as to create antagonisms between groups of people who occupy various positions within the social structure. These antagonisms which, when they become too lopsided in power or oppressive in nature (when individuals are forced to live in the realm of necessity (human activity to meet a need / work) to the predominant exclusion of the realm of freedom (human activity as an end in itself / leisure)), drive social change. Marx states in the Preface to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy (1970), that transformations in society (and the consciousnesses that accompany them) are driven by, “the contradictions of material life, from the conflict existing between the social forces of production and the relations of production” (21). In other words, social change occurs when the social forces of production (the forces of production include labor power, technology and knowledge, therefore when Marx says social forces of production he is referring here to labor) begins to challenge or break apart the relations of production (which is how individuals relate (whether they are an owner or not) to the means of production). When one mode of production overtakes another, previous relations are discarded and new ones are established. In other words, new class antagonisms result from new class formation as the old classes are tossed aside, unless a classless system is devised.

For Marx, ideologies grow from structural arrangements, and cannot conceivably come about without being influenced by this structure. This is a compelling idea, as the ideology that develops among the Lords in a feudal system will inevitably be quite different than the ideology that develops among the CEOs of present day capitalist empires. Changes in social structure, therefore, lead to changes in ideology. Furthermore, ideologies which arise from privileged class positions become established as ‘ruling ideas’ which become embedded in a superstructure. Marx states that:

The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i.e. the class which is the ruling material force of society, is at the same time its ruling intellectual force. The class which has the means of material production at its disposal, has control at the same time over the means of mental production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the ideas of those who lack the means of mental production are subject to it (172).

As far as Marx is concerned, the source of ideology is the structure of society, and it particularly emanates from the class which possesses the power to promulgate its ideas in its own interest.

Weber (2001) is diametrically opposed to Marx in his analysis of the source of social change: ideology. Weber directly criticizes Marxism’s analysis of the origin of ideology when, during a review of early American ideology, he states:

Now, how could activity [being abject, unabashed capitalism], which was at best ethically tolerated, turn into a calling…? The fact to be explained historically is that in the most highly capitalistic centre of that time, in Florence of the 14^th and 15^th centuries…, this attitude was considered ethically unjustifiable, or at best to be tolerated. But in the backwoods small bourgeois circumstances of Pennsylvania in the 18^th century, where business threatened for simple lack of money to fall back into barter, where there was hardly a sign of large enterprise, where only the earliest beginnings of banking were to be found, the same thing was considered the essence of moral conduct, even commanded in the name of duty. To speak here of a reflection of material conditions in the ideal superstructure would be patent nonsense (35-36).

Weber clearly, and quite compellingly, upsets Marx’s notion of ideology arising from structure. The ideological underpinnings of abject, unabashed capitalism in the “backwoods small bourgeois circumstances of Pennsylvania in the 18^th century” (36) certainly was not being foisted on the population by a dominating class. Weber’s argument is that ideological shifts took place within protestant sects which particularly disposed them to success in capitalist enterprise. More essentially, these ideological shifts were not driven by changes in social structure, but rather by changes in theological doctrine.

Several church teachings were particularly powerful in revolutionizing how individuals viewed themselves in their commercial activity. Among these are Luther’s notion of a calling wherein a vocation, previously viewed as a necessary means of subsistence, becomes the purpose of life issued from the divinity; the Calvinist doctrine of predestination, which denies the parishioner both knowledge of their state of salvation and the power to change it; and stewardship, where the devout view capital or wealth as offered by God for the purpose of its sound maintenance and growth rather than to be squandered on the individual’s spontaneous enjoyment. The culmination and combination of these ideological stances, which arose for reasons quite distinct from the development of capitalism, contributed to the rapid expansion of capitalism in protestant communities. Therefore, for Weber, the fount of social change (and therefore shifts in the social structure) springs from changes in ideology, as opposed to Marx who considered the order reversed from this.

Freud (1989), in his book Civilization and its Discontents, does not seem to address social change, but assumptions can be drawn about the topic from his central ideas. For Freud, society comes about as a result of individual’s need for protection from nature. In the course of its development, society exacts sacrifices from individuals in the form of desires and freedoms (which he refers to as the sublimation of libidinal instincts). This sacrifice results in unhappiness. Freud states that, “It was discovered that a person becomes neurotic because he cannot tolerate the amount of frustration which society imposes on him in the service of its cultural ideals, …the abolition or reduction of those demands would result in a return to the possibilities of happiness” (39). An additional clue can be found in his ruminations on static, stable societies found in nature: “…it may be the case that a temporary balance has been reached between the influences of their environment and the mutually contending instincts within them, and that thus a cessation of development has come about” (83). In other words, a dominant force of social change for Freud is the imbalance between human instinct and the environment. Furthermore, Freud discusses an inherent instinct of aggression in human beings, which society normally is able to turn back onto the individual. This aggression is then internalized and results in feelings of guilt, self-loathing, or simply in feelings of strong conscience. The sources of social change, then, would likely result in the mismanagement on the part of society of an individual’s aggressive instinct, or from the foisting of too many requirements on the individual which results in greater unhappiness.

Marx, Weber and Freud’s analyses have shortcomings. Marx’s (1978) notion of a superstructure that reinforces the ideology established by and protective of the dominating class cannot account for the multiple interpretations of those ideas or the competing ideologies fostered by non-dominant classes. On the other hand, Weber’s (2001) assertion that the notion of a superstructure having no place in the analysis of “backwoods small bourgeois circumstances of Pennsylvania in the 18^th century” (36), ignores the possible advent of ideology that could have been disseminated from the dominating classes in Europe during the intervening 400 years between 14^th century Florence and 18^th century Pennsylvania. Furthermore, to ignore the structure of society in the development of theological thought is unrealistic. Finally, the difficulty in Freud (1989) is that this theory is unable to account for movements that seek selfless ends. For example, what benefit do individuals derive from protesting animal cruelty, or what alleviation of sacrifice would their success entail? Is this simply a sublimation of the aggressive instinct?

Though all authors have shortcomings, they all offer factors which can possibly drive social change, and they all make convincing cases. In the case of Freud, the effects of social requirements on individuals should be considered when examining social change. Regarding Marx, it is likely that social structure influences the development of ideology. It is equally probable that Weber’s view is true: that ideological developments can effect changes in social structure. Marx and Weber, frankly, have much more to contribute to sociological theory because their analyses are informed by data taken from groups of people rather than the psyches of individuals.

References

Freud, Sigmund. 1989. Civilization and Its Discontents. W W Norton & Co Inc.

Marx, Karl. 1970. A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy. Introduction By Maurice Dobb. Progress Publishers.

Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. 1978. The Marx-Engels Reader. Second Edition. W.W. Norton & Co.

Weber, Max. 2001. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism. 2nd ed. Routledge.

In his book, “Pedagogy of the Oppressed,” Freire has built an indisputable argument not by overwhelming the reader with fact or evidence, but by establishing conditions of acceptance or denial. By immediately establishing the idea of the “oppressor within,” the author can effectively deflect any number of arguments against his position before they make it from the lips of his critics. This is something that bothered me throughout his book, even though at times I admit feeling captivated by the wondrous impossibility of his words (that people are nourished by truth, or that true revolutionaries must love and trust the people).

This book argues that educators, or more particularly revolutionary leaders, need to possess absolute trust in the people. Revolutionary educators need to seek the people out, observe their worlds, find out how they view those worlds, discover the inconsistencies which they (the people) can recognize, and then confront the people with those contradictions in the forms of problems that will raise their awareness. This, at first, seems very wise. To change peoples opinions, or raise their awareness it is best to meet them where they are (in terms of culture, beliefs, life stage, etc.), rather than foisting the ‘proper’ view upon them. The latter generally does little other than further entrench preexisting views, especially if the ‘proper’ view is dissimilar in any way to the culture, beliefs, life stage, etc. This method is supposedly far superior to the ‘banking’ method which simply ‘deposits’ information (particularly information that is non-threatening to the structure of domination) into the student, which can then be retrieved. The ‘banking’ education has little to do with critical thought, which would also threaten the powers that be.

It is clear that the ‘banking’ approach to education could be used as a tool of domination, but this is not necessarily so. To learn that the electro-negativity of oxygen is 3.44 can be necessary for an understanding of chemistry, and there are few other modes of delivering this information. It certainly could not be discovered through dialogue, and likely this information, and the context to apply it is known by the instructor far more than the student. This power relationship (based on disparate knowledge) between student and instructor is often seen as necessary and safe. The relationship between the revolutionary educator and the student, on the other hand, is masked in the language of mutual discovery. Freire would like the reader to believe that this journey is one in which both parties engage in parity. I propose that this posture is both deceptive and potentially dangerous.

The revolutionary educator guides the student’s comprehension by establishing the parameters of the discussion. In reading these tactics, I am reminded of the way the evening news accomplishes the same through the selection of stories, their interpretation and their framing. Both the revolutionary educator and the evening news are deceitful because their role in directing the people’s attention, and bounding the possible interpretation of reality, is unacknowledged. The resulting public reaction, debate and opinion is then presented as naturally occurring when individuals are confronted with these “truths.” When Freire’s peasants agitate for change, this action can be said to arise from their own raised awareness, thus removed from the careful tending of its development on the part of the revolutionary educators.

Furthermore, imbuing the instructor(s) with the power to determine the ‘true’ meaning of the student’s discourse (insofar as what originates from the student, and what is coming from their internalized oppressor), truly saps the student’s independence and creativity. This gives complete power to the instructor to define reality. This power is something that Freire would object to with the ‘banking’ system of education, but as his instructors are ‘with the people,’ this power to define is somehow acceptable and above reproach.

Now, having raised these objections, according to Freire’s position, I am likely to be suffering (due to my own internalized oppressor) from the fear of freedom arising in the ‘necrophilic,’ mistrust in the population at large. However, classifying objections to one’s theory as stemming from some unseen hostile force which operates in a critic’s unconscious is completely opposed to the open dialogue Freire advocates. This theory is, in many ways, just as manipulative as the system it opposes.

References

Freire, Paulo. 2000. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. 30th ed. Continuum.

Alienation and anomie are, at their root, very dissimilar concepts.  Alienation is the process of making something which was at one time similar (or in this case related to the self), understood and friendly, into something foreign, strange, and possibly hostile.  An example might be a person who makes a weapon which is then stolen and used against them.  This is quite different than the concept of anomie, which is literally the state of being without norms or laws.  This is a condition of absolute inter/intra-personal deregulation.  An example of anomie might be, upon landing in a lawless foreign land, the traveler is disconnected from any community or set of customs.  The traveler is completely free to take any action with no real understanding of the consequences.  There are aspects of each concept which can blur into the other, and aspects which remain distinct.

Marx and Durkheim had distinct opinions regarding humanity, which served as starting points for divergent analyses of society and its problems. Marx (1978), who saw several human problems through the lens of alienation, believed that man was shaped by his material world.  In other words, Marx thought that economic arrangements could not be explained away by citing human nature as its origin (e.g. capitalism exists because man has a natural disposition to truck and barter (Smith 2003)).  Rather, Marx thought that man’s thought life (his ideas, beliefs, etc…) are shaped by his material relations.  In capitalism, and most other historical economic arrangements since the initial primitive communism, man has been living within a system of alienated labor, wherein his work (the product, the materials used to build the product, his time and effort) is separated from and used against him.  In such an alienated state, man begins to view other men as unfriendly, by virtue of the fact that they are his direct competitors in a labor market, or they are owners of concerns that seek to separate him from his energy at the least possible expense.  As Marx believes that intellectual life is a product of material relations it is not surprising to find philosophies espousing the virtues of competition and individualism (such as the previously mentioned Adam Smith, or the self-declared selfish Ayn Rand).

Durkheim (1972), on the other hand, saw human nature as something more consistent.  He found man to be in equal measure self-interested and altruistic.  In Durkheim’s view, man is essentially a social being who requires solidarity.  When group cohesion is lacking, in one way or another, human problems arise from anomie, or a state of norm- or lawlessness.  In his classic study Suicide (1997), Durkheim found a relationship between interpersonal relations and suicide rates.  For example, he found suicide rates higher for the more solitary protestants compared to catholics who were generally more ensconced in family.  Durkheim also found that the rates of suicide increased during times when norms guiding behavior were not well defined.  An example of this is his finding that suicide rates increase not only during times of rapid economic contraction, but also during times of economic expansion.  He speculated that the rules guiding behavior slackened (due to a rapid influx or loss of wealth) which resulted in a state of anomie.

How might an individual experience these states?  In the case of alienation, Marx (1978) states that, “as a result… man (the worker) no longer feels himself to be freely active in any but his animal functions–eating, drinking, procreating, …and in his human functions [his production] he no longer feels himself to be anything but an animal. What is animal becomes human and what is human becomes animal” (74).  This can be read as an overall decreased attachment to, or emotional investment in, work, along with an increasing interest in the satisfaction of ‘animal’ drives (sex, food, drink).  However, man is not only alienated from the product and process of production but also from nature, himself, his species, and his fellows.  This would likely manifest in feelings of hostility, fear and, ultimately, loneliness.  Philosophically, it would result in ideologies which glorify the individual and personal excellence (as the latter is necessary to survive in an environment of competition).

How would anomie be experienced by the individual?  On the very surface, normlessness, produced by a disconnection from society or other liberating states, would likely result in confusion, fear and loneliness.  In its effects, therefore, it is quite similar to alienation.  However, how it arrives at these effects is quite different than alienation.  Durkheim (1972) states that, “…moral rules truly forms about each person an imaginary wall, at the foot of which the flood of human passions simply dies without being able to go further” (173).  Any weakening of these boundaries of human behavior results in the freeing of passions and the disaster which follows.  Thus, from a lack of strong social ties which would bind one to a set of strict mores, or from a sudden influx of wealth and privilege which would result in an emancipation from previous material constraints, an individual experiences the sensation of abject freedom.  This freedom is what Durkheim refers to as anomic.  In this, as Durkheim states, an individual will find himself on a quest for fulfillment which will never be realized.

The concept of anomie arises out of an assumption about individuals.  To believe in the concept of anomie, one must believe that men and women possess instincts that are inherently self-annihilating.  When the instincts are given free-reign (in Durkheim’s analysis) higher rates of anomie (as evidenced by suicide) are the result.  Furthermore, one must also believe that individuals are predisposed towards the creation of a society in which these instincts will be marshaled appropriately.  These two assumptions so far must also account for all individuals, and for all societies.  Those societies which are maladaptive (which display higher rates of anomie), obviously are not configured correctly.  The weakness of this approach is in the invariability of the underlying assumption about individuals which must be correct in order for the entire argument to stand.

Alienation, on the other hand, though less statistically grounded, seems a far more sound argument.  Unlike Durkheim’s theory, alienation is not based on an assumption about human nature, but on the observation of material relations.  Its explanatory power lay in seeking structural sources of ideological crises.  The depressed engineer might not be in such a state because he is consumed with liberated passions which are not being constrained properly by society.  Rather this dissatisfaction might be a result of living in a free, competitive labor market in which his job might be shipped off to another worker at the drop of a hat, or that he feels no sense of ownership in the objects he is crafting because he knows he receives only a pitiful fraction of a percent of the profits that justify his existence.

References

Durkheim, Emile. 1972. Emile Durkheim: Selected Writings. edited by Anthony Giddens. Cambridge University Press.
Durkheim, Emile. 1997. Suicide. Free Press.
Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. 1978. The Marx-Engels Reader. Second Edition. W.W. Norton & Co.
Smith, Adam. 2003. The Wealth of Nations. Bantam Classics.

Freud and Durkheim are fundamentally different in their views of the individual. Consequently, this manifests in their views of society, and what society accomplishes for, or foists upon, society’s members. Their dissimilarity is reminiscent of Hobbs and Locke. For Locke, man is inherently good, social and lawful. This assumption about human nature leads Locke to the notion that society is an organic consequence of social individuals. Hobbes, on the other hand, perceives men as naturally asocial and lawless. This assumption leads Hobbes to a completely different conclusion as to the fons et origo and the function of society. In this case, society is foisted upon man in order to curb his lawless nature. A similar distinction can be found when comparing Freud and Durkheim, and this distinction leads ultimately to a question regarding the value and limitation of assumptions about a human nature.

For Freud (1989), the individual is essentially self-centered, and society has arisen to, “protect men against nature and to adjust their mutual relations” (42). In exchange for this protection and modulation, Society hinders the full and free expression of individual instincts. Instead of society allowing man to realize his various desires, society has either standardized them or denied them altogether. Due to this characteristic, Freud felt that, “…civilization is largely responsible for our misery…” (38). Freud saw society, civilization, as antagonistic to the individual. He states that, “Human life in common is only made possible when a majority comes together which is stronger than any separate individual and which remains united against all separate individuals” (49). The sentiment that human beings had more freedom before the advent of civilization in the “primitive state,” occurs periodically in Freud’s writing. Essentially, Freud felt that civilization was a hindrance to individual happiness, if not the main cause of an individual’s misery. Far from having a liberating effect, Freud felt that human beings were largely suppressed by society.

This view posits several assumptions about human nature. From Freud’s vantage point, human beings are only satisfied if their individual needs are met. They are purely self-motivated. Human beings are so frightened of nature that they willingly agree to the suppression of their own instincts in exchange for protection from nature. By extension, human beings are essentially lawless and amoral. Furthermore, to take Freud’s position it is essential to believe that human beings are barely recognizable to themselves (that their innermost machinations are hidden to them). Finally, one must believe that human beings are acted upon by society, sometimes in ways that they are oblivious to. These are a few assumptions that may be made from Freud’s assertions.

Durkheim (1972), however, saw things in a light quite dissimilar to Freud. Instead of seeing man as purely self-interested, as Freud did, Durkheim saw altruism as equally important as self-interest and contended that the two were essentially inseparable. Durkheim states, when describing egoism and altruism, that, “These two kinds of sentiment only express two different, but inseparable, aspects of every mental act” (114). In representing an external world within himself, even an egoistic act must also be altruistic as the representation takes place within an individual’s mind. Hence, as altruism is a natural and deeply rooted tendency, society would naturally arise among men. Durkheim defends this notion when he states, “it is perfectly clear that all social life would be impossible if there did not exist interests superior to the interests of individuals” (147), albeit in a different context.

Unlike Freud, Durkheim saw society as essential to the fulfillment of human instincts. Durkheim states, “If we judge it essential that natural inclinations be held within certain bounds, it is not because they seem to us bad, or because we would deny the right to gratification; on the contrary, it is because otherwise such natural inclinations could have no hope of the satisfaction they deserve” (112). For Freud, society was a source of unhappiness due to its inhibition of instinct, but Durkheim saw the moderation of instincts (desires) as the only possibility of their fullest satisfaction.

Certain assumptions can be culled from Durkheim’s writings regarding human nature. According to Durkheim, human beings are social creatures. Furthermore, they are not purely selfish, but rather, in equal measure, essentially altruistic. They do not necessarily suffer at the hand of nature, but they definitely suffer when separated from society (as evidenced by suicide rates). According to Durkheim, human beings have a greater satisfaction of their instincts while existing within a society. Human beings experience a sense of solidarity with their society, and this solidarity varies by type and degree. In certain societies, human being can be so overcome by the demands of communal solidarity that there might be little individualism left for the individual.

It might be fruitful to examine the supposed benefit of making assumptions about human nature in the social sciences. Comparisons between Freud and Durkheim regarding society and the self make clear the consequences of holding firm views about human nature. The underlying beliefs of both men resulted in vastly differing views of society and its effects on individuals. Both men wrote compelling cases for their beliefs and bolstered them with empirical evidence. How can this be?

Assumptions, about human nature or something other, seem to provide the basis of the research questions being asked. If I take as my basis the notion that all individuals possess an innate attraction to spherical objects I will ask questions like, “Given our predisposition to spherical objects, what percentage of sports is played with round balls?” On the other hand, if I am convinced that man is motivated by economic pressures I might ask, “How much cheaper is it to produce a spherical ball than that of another shape, such as a football?” Both research questions might produce accurate accounts of reality (80% of field games involve a spherical ball, it’s 20% cheaper to make a spherical ball than a ball of another shape), but neither get us close to understanding the motivations of human beings.

Human nature, while assumed by these authors to be a relatively static aspect of any individual, seems too transient and variable to make any assumptions about one way or the other. Both are interpreting observations based on assumptions. Durkheim’s suicide could be interpreted using Freud’s internalized aggression freed from the societal pressure which transforms that aggression into guilt. Freud’s guilt could be interpreted through Durkheim’s mechanical solidarity (as a point of conflict between the conscious collective and personal individuality). Neither brings us any closer to understanding human nature because there is no such static thing. Arguments that follow the logic, “individuals are motivated by x, therefore society will be y,” are so much wasted energy. A preferred point of departure might twist this argument to read, “right now, society is arranged as x, therefore individuals will appear to be motivated by y.”

References

Durkheim, Emile. 1972. Emile Durkheim: Selected Writings. edited by Anthony Giddens. Cambridge University Press.

Freud, Sigmund. 1989. Civilization and Its Discontents. W W Norton & Co Inc.

I just found out about Bookmooch.  Bookmooch is a free service with which you give away books that you have but no longer need, and can receive books that you would like from others.  For example, if I have an inventory you can find it here.  I will mail these books out, free.  In exchange I will recieve points with which I can exchange for books from other bookmooch members.  A handy little exchange if you ask me!

So, so nice to be back in classes, albeit in a different state and program.  There is always a flurry of activity in the beginning as syllibi are reviewed, tasks dissected and scheduled, and wonder experienced that all of this stuff really does have to be done in the next few months.

For those who have been curious about ubuntu, here is a screenshot from my system…