To breathe is to judge.
To choose is to refuse.
When you stand before the bathroom mirror in the morning, what do you do? The question, of course, begs qualification, for it depends on who you are, where you are and when it is. These factors limit your choices. If you are a Western man in the mid-twentieth century, you will probably brush your teeth, shower and shave. It is unlikely that you would think of painting a red dot in the middle of your forehead as the Indians do, or of painting white and carmine lines on each cheek as the New Guinean tribes do, or of shaving your head except for one plait of hair to be braided on the top, as the Kozaks of the Don used to do. If you did any of these latter things, each customary and normal in its respective society, then walked into your neighborhood or place of work, you might well be resented, ridiculed or even rejected. Indeed, this was the experience of the long-haired youths in the 1960 's who were doing what their forefathers had "normally" done at the turn of the century and many are "normally" doing in the seventies.
Conformity to social norms creeps into your bedroom and bathroom. While such norms may seem irrelevant to the concerns of the political scientist, they are actually some of the indicators of social continuity and change. When in the 1960's the young man grew his hair and faced his crew-cut father, he was trying to express his rejection of the established norms. On the other hand, those who have taught in the United States in recent years have witnessed the metamorphosis of classroom composition from the early short-haired, "straight"-looking guys and girls to the long-haired bead-wearers and then to "stylized" long-haired bead-wearers. So, as our young man who has chosen to grow his hair long steps out of the bathroom and into his daily occupations, he may be considered (depending on what he has done to himself, in which epoch, and who observes him) as deviant, eccentric, extravagant, courageous, radical, rebel, or simply part of the young crowd. If he was an early, determined hippie, beatnik, existentialist, or whatever the youth rebellion is called at the time and place, choosing his life-style by intellectual and moral conviction rather than by herd instinct, he may have been not only a rebel against the established order, but perhaps also an inspirer and innovator; he may even have had leadership qualities and been hailed as a hero by those who wanted to revolt but didn't dare. To the supporters of the established order, however, he was deviant and revolutionary. The history of mankind is full of such figures.
However, when a social movement spreads, although it may not be the all-prevailing pattern, adherence to its norms may no longer be viewed as heroic. For example, the revolt of our young man against his parents' values may, in fact, be a sign of conformity to the prevailing culture of his own generation. Yet this conformity and revolt are more complex than to be simply the results of the prevalence of one value-forming agency (the peer group in this case) over another (the family). We should examine the case in the light of the preceding chapters, taking into account human drives, group dynamics, values, norms and, in particular, man's potentials for elaborating symbolic systems. In other words, the total environment will not be complete if we overlook the "self," without which the total environment makes no sense.
On the basis of our earlier discussions, we may take one factor about the "self"--the individual--as a given, and that is that man, not endowed with the instinctive blueprint for behavior which many other species possess, has more latitude to choose. We do not need to argue here on the metaphysical level whether or not man has free will. It is evident that he needs to use his brain to meet his lack of instinctive social order and semantic communication. In doing so, as we have seen, his organism plays a part in receiving, interpreting and transmitting symbols, which contribute to the very being of social life and which do share, no matter how minimally, in shaping the social complex. For, as we saw in our discussion of symbols and norms, the very biological and environmental differences among people even of the same culture, causing each to interpret differently a common set of standards, lead to variation and gradually to change of those standards and norms.
Even in a primeval group, where the strictness and the encompassing character of values and norms leave the individual little choice, providing the nearest situation to total conformity, a discrepancy will exist between the group's abstraction of values and norms and the organism's processing of the symbols. There, where nearly the whole of the individual's life experience is identified by and merged into the being of the group, and where conflicting beliefs, myths and ideologies and competing value-forming agencies have not developed, only minute individual deviations from established norms can find their way into the slow pace of group evolution. Not that primeval man intrinsically lacks the ability to choose, but that he is presented with unequivocal situations where his mind is clear as to what he should choose, to the extent that the alternative virtually does not exist. Thus, not only is his capacity to choose conditioned, but also his perception of possibilities is limited. While his life experience is identified with that of the group, it should not imply that he is not free to interact with his total environment. Anthropologists have observed that in many primeval groups strict norms apply to essential areas of social interaction and behavior and beyond them the group member is free to do as he pleases. This freedom applies not only in his interaction with the natural environment, but also in those areas of social intercourse where the group has not imposed strict behavioral patterns, extending to such delicate domains as certain aspects of sexual relations. However, where the primeval group has set a rule, deviation is synonymous with abnormality.
The individual's choice-making potentials can be and are controlled to different degrees by social circumstances on the one hand and by personal interests, temperaments and inclinations on the other. In the monolithic, closed world of the primeval group, deviation from the norms has little chance of altering the set patterns. For noncomformist behavior to be tolerated and have a chance to proliferate, the group should have potentials for change which could result from complex factors developing within the total environment, whether due to external influences or to internal social fermentations and dynamics. For example, the exposure of many isolated primeval groups to Western encroachments provided circumstances for group members to choose among alternatives and set the pace and direction for change.
Social interaction with the individual's choice-making potentials can have different natures. As of the moment he leaves the isolated, monolithic, primeval situation (which, incidentally, applies to very few human societies today), man is faced with choice in the complexities of variegated values and social norms. This, however, does not mean that because he has the possibilities of choice, he makes choices. For one thing, he may not be conscious of his possibilities--a situation which the prevailing social order may capitalize upon. Many regimes, old and new, have based their practices on the motto, "ignorance is bliss." They may, through indoctrination, misinformation or no information, try to create situations akin to the isolated, primeval, monolithic group. For another thing, following the path of least friction and avoiding the tensions of decision-making are prevalent behavioral patterns. Choice may amount to confusion and anomie.
On the other hand, some social systems, such as those prevailing in Western societies, emphasize the diversity, personal choice, thought and initiative of their members as essential for prosperity, growth and vigor. This does not imply, of course, that such societies leave the individual a 360-degree latitude of choice, for that would create problems of disintegration for the group, as we discussed in Chapter Four. The problem that arises is to see how the different degrees of social flexibility (providing choices, yet keeping them within a certain angle of control) combine with the choice-making potentials of the group members. If many people are inclined to follow the path of least friction within the social flux, others prefer to use their dynamic potentials. We hinted of them at the beginning of our discussion of the group in Chapter Four. Their number and attitude will, of course, depend on the circumstances which may sharpen or appease the individual's drive for taking positions and making choices. Here, then, we are considering the interaction of these variables, namely the individual choice-making potentials, the rigidity/flexibility of the social order permitting the realization of such potentials, and the particular circumstances which may be caused either by the interaction of the first two variables or by penetrations from outside, like the primeval group's exposure to complicated alien cultures mentioned earlier.
It may be useful to underline here the differences between the conformity within the primeval group and that which may be imposed by a ruling strata in a complex society carrying the germs of social, economic, political, normative and cultural heterogeneity. The first, in its isolation and cohesion, is a total sharing of beliefs, behavior and ignorance. In the second, the presence of the social suppressive mechanism is in itself proof of contradictions. And with its intimations of forbidden fruit, the suppressed item is also a source of curiosity for the members of society--at least for some, and that is enough to initiate change. The medieval Christian church forbade usury. But usury was not hypothetical. Eventually the Christians succumbed to it, and it transformed Christian society. If books are censored, it implies that they might be read. As we saw earlier, no matter how rigid or fluid the social flux, it will, in its heterogeneity, present contradictions and alternatives to its members. Once the process of creative thought has been initiated, its regimentation becomes difficult. The U. S. military-industrial complex would have liked atomic scientists like Oppenheimer simply to build the atom bomb and leave the policy for its production and use to them. The Soviets want Sakharovs and Medvedevs to restrict the use of their intelligence to physics and biology and not to meddle in politics. But it does not work that way.
The members of the society do not choose their attitudes and behavior on any simple basis, such as the directives of social ruling strata or the strict pattern of socialization. A member of society has an inner, personal view conditioning his choice and therefore his attitudes, behavior and actions. Depending on who is observing whom, the observer may feel, for example, that the noncomformity of his subject to a particular social norm is not in the subject's rational interest. Whether man is rational or not has long been debated. It is a fact, however, that man does not always behave rationally-for one reason, because there are no universal rules for rationality. Rationality is relative, not only for different people in different places but also within the same individual at different times and under different circumstances. As Pascal said, "Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connait pas
" (the heart has its reasons which reason does not know). The man who has not conformed rationally according to the material rules of his society may have had an affectional reason for behaving as he did, or his nonconformity may have been motivated by a drive for change: change for the sake of change. For, like the sensory perceptions, which can be dulled by continuous and monotonous exposures and which need variation and excitement, social situations may cease to present objective validity to those who are in them. The notion that the grass is greener on the other side of the fence has an optic validity because of the angle of vision (Fig. 8.01).
The faults of one's own environment are closer for scrutiny. The individual may want to take his distance to see better. And in the process of change, he may or may not find anything better. This may correspond to the basic drives for excitement and challenge and the search for the unknown discussed in Chapter Two. The motivation for change, however, may be counterbalanced by the drive for security and the fear of the unknown, which dictate conformity.
II. Temperaments and Valuational Congruity/Incongruity
In considering the individual's use of his choice-making potentials, then, we need to consider his personality. Whether he opts for the security of conformity or aspires to change depends not only on his socialization, but also on his personal temperament and his inner point of view regarding the prevailing social norms and values.
The Adventurer and the Conserver
Personality types have been subjects of study from antiquity to modern laboratory research. Unfortunately, these studies, whether made over twenty years of psychiatric observation like those presented by Jung, or based on empirical tests and interviews such as the F-scale, the Rorschach inkblot, TAT or MMPI, while of scientific significance, have not always reached concordance to permit general patterns of observation within broad social and political contexts. For our political analysis we would rather derive our model of personality types from certain indices of political behavior.
In reference to political attitudes, distinction is often made between liberals and conservatives. These terms, however, in their political connotations, do not indicate constant policy orientations. The liberals of the nineteenth century in Great Britain were those who advocated the least governmental interference in social and economic domains; they upheld the principle of laissez-faire, laissez-passer. The mid-twentieth century liberals of the United States find that if you laissez-faire and laissez-passer you let do and let go--without government control, there will be much social injustice. Thus, they favor government regulation of social and economic affairs. Yet if the government's grip in a given country became too tight, the liberals would be those who would propose the liberalization of control and greater individual freedom. While these positions have obvious contradictions, they do share a dynamic characteristic which we could probably best define by the term adventurer--not in its popular usage, but in its original connotation and derivation from the Latin ad venire: toward what comes; a forward-looking and dynamic attitude. The adventurer is inclined to give an unknown future a try. The term "adventurer" will permit us to distinguish between liberal attitudes and inclinations and liberal political positions. For example, when the lower class is more "liberal," it is on economic matters such as welfare state measures, social security, graduated income tax and the like, which are motivated by the particular interests of the lower class and which really constitute a conservative attitude, motivated by the drive for security. On the other hand, the "liberalism" of the upper classes, when it exists, is more directed towards civil liberties issues or internationalism and, as we shall see, qualifies more for our adventurer definition.
Similarly, we will use the term conserver as the opposite attitude, derived from the Latin com servare: to guard; the tendency to hold to what is, rather than to what could be. By using the terms "adventurer" and "conserves," we can free ourselves from stereotyped political connotations and value judgments and also broaden our inquiry. It will also be easier for us to see that there are no "liberal" and "conservative" individuals, but that liberal and conservative, or adventurer and conserver, can cohabit within the same individual and evolve in different degrees, at different times and under different circumstances.
Looking back into the history of mankind, we can trace the evolution of different peoples who were at times, in their collectivity, on the move towards what was to come--adventurers in a sense--and the same people at other times (or other people) who became mentally and physically sedentary, settling down and guarding what they had. Here we are obviously not talking about liberalism and conservatism in modern political terms. The Aryan tribes who invaded India or the hordes of Genghis Khan were adventurers but not necessarily "liberal." They may have had conservative traditions within their group structures, while the walled settlements of Mesopotamia or Greece may have contained liberal social structures. The adventurer on the move takes certain risks different from those of the conserver. The adventurer, while more free of possessions, accepts a certain amount of unpredictability, while the conserver, holding on to what he has, needs to build, figuratively and concretely, defensive walls around his possessions, and must accept a certain degree of responsibility.
Staying at this elementary level of analysis but continuing the dynamics of the process, we will reach a point where the adventurer and the conserver conflict. Eventually, the adventurer will strike the conserver's wall, which is both an obstacle to the adventurer's free movement and at the same time a source of attraction. It attracts him because what he is looking for is stored behind the conserver's walls. To illustrate the process on a grand scale, we may cite the walled cities from antiquity and the middle ages up to quite recently. On a still larger scale, as societies with territorial governments and legal and institutional controls emerged, they created frontiers, natural and defensive, and indeed built walls against the adventurer tribes threatening their conserver societies. The Romans and Persians, often at war with each other, nevertheless made mutual arrangements to maintain their Caucasian defense lines, the Caspian Gate, against the invading barbarians. And of course the most illustrative of all walls is the Great Wall of China, still standing today.
Now, to apply our model within the walls, we have to consider that if there are walls, there is trespassing. Had there been no trespassing, or at least the likelihood of it, there would have been no need for walls. In overrunning the walls, the adventurers dislocate the conservers, who may find themselves in the place of or among the former. Thus, people with adventurous or conservative inclinations may find themselves, by the force of events, on the other side or playing the other role. The Visigoths did not just plunder Rome and then go away, nor did the Mongolian tribes do so to China. Once they got behind the walls--stone walls, social walls, status walls-they often settled down, then had to conserve their possessions. As Clemenceau once said, if you want to make people conservative, give them something to conserve. There are thus walls within walls and spaces to roam in between.
As with all the other dimensions of our study so far, we are again faced with an intricate complex. The adventurer/conserver patterns of behavior, in their coexistence, become relative, depending on whether the individual is, or rather feels and finds himself in the open or behind the wall. And this will be different at different times for the same individual. In his position as one or the other he may feel comfortable or uncomfortable, depending on whether his situation corresponds to his temperament. The coexistence of adventurer/conserver patterns of behavior within the social context and within the individual also implies the coexistence of interests, values and norms appertaining more to one than to the other. One may surmise that saving and prudence are conserver virtues, while generosity and courage are adventurer qualities. Chivalry, tournaments and duels were adventurous acts, and although at the same time they were intended to affirm and conserve certain positions and statuses, they nevertheless belonged to more adventurous temperaments. As the bourgeoisie crept in (before it finally took over), standards of adventurers and conservers evolved. The bourgeois who had achieved power within the still prevailing aristocratic culture, although he perhaps had no liking to do so, may have had to engage in a duel to affirm his honorability. Eventually, however, the bourgeois mentality and temperament got rid of the adventurous standards of chivalry.
As pointed out earlier, the adventurer/conserver complex is the reality of human nature because it corresponds to man's basic drives: the adventurer tendency corresponding to the drives for challenge, excitement, game and the search for the unknown; the conserver tendency corresponding to the need for security and the fear of the unknown. Thus, while the adventurer of one type may be brought into line with more conservative patterns of behavior (in the general conserver sense), the adventurous grain is never totally suppressed. Rather, when the adventurer of one type is brought into line, his adventurer tendencies find new and modified outlets. The social flux does usually provide outlets for adventurous inclinations and, by developing traditional patterns, recognizes their worth. From the traditional culture of China to medieval Europe, the young were to travel, as the journeyman did, face adventure and gain experience. In modern times there are those who take greater risks in business and those who leave secure positions or spend their fortune for political power and challenge. On another level, there are those who drive sports cars, sky dive, challenge the ski slopes or sail the distant waves.
In the course of social evolution one or the other tendency may become preponderant, contributing to the rigidity or looseness of social structures. When the walls of conservatism close in, less and less room will remain for adventurism, and social norms and mores will tend towards rigidity. The symbolic outlets such as dangerous sports do not always replace and fulfill social frustrations. The social evolution towards the conserver's viewpoint may not always mean more and more members of society have possessions (material, situational, etc.) to conserve, but also that sometimes the conservers may come to control those more inclined for such as the older generation's control of the social institutions, or the control of the state's coercive and law-enforcing machinery by an exploitative and conservative class, keeping in check the dispossessed who would otherwise have revolted. The likelihood that the conserver may gain strength over the adventurer arises from the conserver's tendency to accumulate, with the advantages that a cumulative economy over a subsistence economy entails. The conserver must also develop long-term interests in the investment of his labor and reaping of its fruits with accompanying associational structures and clannish attitudes. However, these conserver attitudes will differ from the clannish tendencies of the adventurer, whose arrangements will reflect the dynamism of his struggle for survival.
The conserver's potentials for social preponderance may also result from his missionary approach. To reduce the adventurer's unpredictability, the conserver is inclined to make him settle down--whether by raising a family, taking a job or surrounding himself with possessions and property. While the conserver, by his temperament, may find comfort and fulfillment in such responsibilities, the adventurer may consider them cumbersome and uncomfortable, and will conform to them only under social pressure. This social pressure can be enhanced by the inflexibility, tenacity and narrowness of toleration which the conserver elements may develop by entrenchment and by rooting themselves in tradition. As they dig in, their angle of vision narrows; and as it narrows, it becomes tenacious. The process was discussed under the orienting properties of values in Chapter Four. The conserver does not always defend his stand because he is conscious of his interests in guarding his material or situational possessions, but because of his system of values.
The adventurer, by not digging in and not growing roots, may have a wider angle of vision and be more mobile--but he is also movable and susceptible of being moved into confining walls, which, at the physical extreme, may be prison walls. But such confinement is not the most detrimental to the adventurer temperament. More confining for him is mental regimentation. The man who keeps his mind free is the real threat to the conserver. Let us quote Thoreau:
I have paid no poll-tax for six years. I was put into a jail once on this account, for one night; and, as I stood considering the walls of solid stone, two or three feet thick, the door of wood and iron, a foot thick, and the iron grating which strained the light, I could not help being struck with the foolishness of that institution which treated me as if I were mere flesh and blood and bones, to be locked up. I wondered that it should have concluded at length that this was the best use it could put me to, and had never thought to avail itself of my services in some way. I saw that, if there was a wall of stone between me and my townsmen, there was a still more difficult one to climb or break through before they could get to be as free as I was. I did not for a moment feel confined, and the walls seemed a great waste of stone and mortar. I felt as if I alone of all my townsmen had paid my tax. They plainly did not know how to treat me, but behaved like persons who are underbred. In every threat and in every compliment there was a blunder; for they thought that my chief desire was to stand the other side of that stone wall. I could not but smite to see how industriously they locked the door on my meditations, which followed them out again without Let or hindrance, and they were really all that was dangerous.
Man's potential for imagination is unique--at least we think it is. Of all the animals, man is the only one who reaches out for the universe. Men can dream of conquering the world and then, at times, set out to do it. Most are cut to size by social pressure; some manage to realize part of their dream. A few, like Alexander, Luther, Patrick Henry, Andrew Carnegie, Henry Ford, Einstein or Mao Tse-Tung, cut loose and make historical splashes.
But even where the walls of conservatism encroach on the mind, the adventurous grain does not die altogether. Through the ages, man's yearning for expansion -- of himself and his possibilities, against the repressive mold of environment and society--has been the subject of speculation and study. The dyad of conserver and adventurer has taken different forms in different cultures: from the domain of the gods -- Siva and Vishnu -- to modern psychoanalysis. Hasn't most everyone felt at times like breathing the universe into his lungs? Or carolling until he heard his voice echo from infinity? Like bursting and integrating into the universe, or squeezing the universe into himself, feeling weightless and free from the forces of gravity? Similarly, in the social context, hasn't he at times hated authority, whether that of parents, teachers or professional and political superiors; envied those who were in a better position than himself by wealth, status or other traits? Or detested responsibility, wishing he could be free as a bird from his social burdens? But then he may have realized that if he acted upon these feelings, he might lose the social benefits of his position. The conserver in him has then overcome the adventurer spirit, which is suppressed by stronger drives for security and authority -- yet a grain of adventure remains.
In the social context, beyond the act of nonconformity, dissent and revolution, the adventurous germ may take the form of abstract symbols, which we may call anti-norms. They are the secret, envious approval and joy the member of society may feel, depending on his social situation, on hearing about an act defying the established norms. It is the admiration for Robin Hood, who, after all, legally speaking, was a thief. The hero is not always a valorous soldier, a savior of people in distress, or a crime-fighter. There are also anti-norm heroes who simply do things against the established order which many wish they could do, but don't have the guts. Anti-norm feelings are manifest in symbolic attitudes and expressions and may be unconscious and seemingly innocuous within the normal social flux. Their potency becomes apparent in times of crisis. The policeman is frequently called "cop" or "fuzz" -- an unfriendly or pejorative appellation which is a relatively harmless demonstration of anti-norm feelings under normal circumstances. In times of crisis--when one group becomes temperamentally opposed to another, as in an urban riot -- by the bitter taste its utterance leaves in the mouth of the excited man, the anti-norm jargon may contribute to the sharpening of attitudes and flare-ups of social conflicts.
The anti-norm is the hidden dimension paired with norms in the dyad of man: his need to experience cold in order to understand heat, his need to juxtapose justice and power in order to appreciate them, his relative understanding of right and wrong and of good and bad--in short, the contradictions of his existence, life and death, being and nothingness. By the same token, the dyad conditions his propensity to identify with some and not others. It is an understanding with a radius, short or long, but ever limited, which makes him feel and belong. Biologically and psychoanalytically, it manifests itself in every aspect of a life experience, from the choice and appreciation of food to the change of humor and attitude. Socially and politically, the anti-norm is only an undeclared dimension of what otherwise can become open contrast and tension, leading to conflict within the individual and among individuals with different temperaments, interests and values.
So, even if the individual may, in the social context, seem to follow the normative pattern, he does not necessarily wholeheartedly believe in it. Moving one step further into the individual's inner conception and perception of the prevailing social values and norms and his adherence to them, we may find different levels of conscious or unconscious acceptance of those values and norms and conformity to them. Strict conformity to the norms, even if the individual fully believes in them, is not a reality of social life nor of the individual's life experience. The coexistence of will and reason within man makes the Kantian categorical imperative an unattainable ideal: reason may say one thing, but man may will another. Just because the individual can reason that for the sake of harmony and togetherness everyone should carry out his responsibilities, he will not necessarily always carry out his own.
As we progress in our discussion of social semantics and the self, new light is thrown from a different angle on the normative system. Minute and multifarious as they are, the will/reason constellations and individuals' conceptions, perceptions and interactions with their total environment do converge to give texture and reality to the value system, which otherwise would be an abstraction. No matter how unique each life experience may be, it has to fall into the pattern of man's species-specifics. That is why, in Chapter Two, we discussed man's basic drives, out of whose interaction with the environment unique life experiences merge and converge to give a society its texture and characteristics. But does each individual's life experience necessarily and totally converge and merge into what the society upholds as abstract values?
Social norms, while processed by the organism, are juxtaposed to the basic drives--conditioned as they may be by norms. As long as there are no conflicts, the ego's satisfaction and norms' validity coexist in harmony and support each other: when honesty is a recognized value of a society, the member of that society believes in honesty, is honest and not tempted to be dishonest, then everything is in harmony. But then he may be tempted. He will resist or succumb. His honesty may have a price. Patriotism is a value nearly universally upheld. But when, for example, an international monetary crisis arises and there is fear of devaluation, money flows out of the country, sent abroad by "honest patriots" to avoid loss. Of course, the degree of concordance between the abstract values and the reality of social behavior varies in different societies and under different circumstances. It all depends how well the group's cohesive indoctrination functions. There are societies where most of the members would be proud to wear a uniform and risk their lives on the battlefield for a posthumous medal. There are others where the soldier would cling to the outgoing helicopter or truck to get out of fighting. (This should not be confused with conscientious objection, in which the refusal to fight corresponds to the value upheld.) Adaptation and conformity to public morality differ, depending on the society's degree of flexibility and the life experiences and expectations of the individual members.
The discrepancy between abstract values and their chances of actual fulfillment by the members of society can be conscious or unconscious. The individual may believe he is honest or patriotic but surprise himself by acting otherwise in a critical situation. Or he may be conscious of the fact that under stress he would not conform to the prevailing social norms. In both cases, the abstract values claimed by the social order have become relative and under certain circumstances may turn out to be false values. The relativity of valuational reality and falsehood can create cognitive dissonance within the individual if he realizes that he is not what he thought he was, or it may disrupt interpersonal expectations and create social friction and conflict when the assumption by an observer, interlocutor or partner that an individual's behavior or action has been motivated by a certain value proves false. The individual has an "inner substance" which "integrates his personality and holds him together" (including consciousness of the fact that if faced with a certain degree of danger he might run away) and an "outer shell" which adapts to the social norms, but does not constitute an essential part of him.
For purposes of political analysis, the concordance of abstract values and their real chances of social actualization should be, complemented by the degree of social consciousness or unconsciousness about the existence of false values. The policy-maker can better estimate his potentials if he knows not only how patriotic his fellow countrymen "are," but how patriotic they will act, under what circumstances and for how long.
Image and Role
There is, then, a multivariate interaction between the individual's inner point of view, the social environment, and the social valuational abstractions. Within this interaction the individual's image and role evolve. The interaction carries within itself the discrepancies of the different variables, which influence and in the long run modify each other. Not only does the individual perceive and conceive of his environment in his own unique way, but he also thinks of himself in terms of what he thinks others think of him. A man's image is not only different for different people, but may be different at different times for himself--and for the others --depending on the circumstances and his experience (or lack of it). As we said, he may surprise himself as courageous or cowardly in actual confrontation with danger, whereas he had thought or "dreamt" of himself as otherwise. In his assessment of himself in relation to his environment, he may make value judgments that could shape the nature of his relationship with his environment and his role within it.
A schematic presentation of variables may look as follows:
According to Alter
Social Semantic Abstracts
According to Ego
What Alter thinks Ego's potentials are
What Ego's potentials are (according to abstract social criteria and which may not be known to Alter yet—or ever)
What Ego thinks his potentials are
What Alter thinks ego is—Alter’s image of ego in his role--and whether Alter thinks Ego is above or below is real potentials
What Ego is according to social abstractions as a statistical figure: age, profession, sex, wealth, IQ, etc.
What Ego thinks he is: the role he thinks he is expected to play and does play
What Alter thinks –in the light of his own interests –Ego should become: should he be given more possibilities to realize his potentials or should he be frustrated
What Ego can be – hypothetical future possibilities for Ego
What Ego thinks he should be – on the basis of his own potentials and role – his ambitiond and expectations
What Ego eventually becomes
Different according to each of the above criteria
Starting a new cycle
In our schema we call the individual member of the society "Ego" and the ambient social sector with which he interacts "Alter." Between the two, we have added another dimension designated as the social semantic abstract. The latter is the evaluation of Ego according to what are supposed to be the standards of the total environment, whether material or valuational: distinctions of sex, age or wealth, or the ideal "goodness" and "badness." The valuational dimension is the prevailing normative system whose semantics for Alter and Ego are conditioned by their inner viewpoints, including their anti-norms and false values. For example, generosity may be a virtue according to social semantic abstractions. But it is a qualified virtue. If Ego misinterprets it, he may become too generous and be taken advantage of by Alter, or not generous enough and be considered a miser. Or he may be generous or not according to social semantic abstracts, but may not be known so to Alter. The abstract existence of Ego's qualities (Column 2) has been distinguished from the evaluative process of his social environment (Column 1) because, while Ego may potentially have all the prerequisites for social success, he may not find an outlet for them in his particular setting and may not find opportunities to exploit them. We know only of the geniuses who became recognized; many may have come and gone without ever being discovered. Combining the various columns, we may come up with the following questions:
--What are Ego's potentials in relation to his environment? Is he strong, are his neurons alert and intact, is he big or small? At a different level, is he wealthy, does he have savoir-faire, charm and charisma? In evaluating Ego's potentials we have already become subjective, because the potentials we have enumerated are those of value in our own social environment. Maybe Ego lives within a society where those with blond hair can claim certain privileges. If so, then to the list of his potentials we should add whether he has blond hair.
--What does Ego think his potentials are? They change in time and space, in confrontation with new situations and after each experience. What we are considering here is beyond the immediate means/ends calculations and extends to Ego's mental abstracts and his subjective evaluations. Does he have an inferiority complex or a superiority complex? Does he think he is more intelligent or stronger than he "really" is? Does he think he can do a better job than his boss, or does he stand in awe and admiration of his boss's intelligence and capabilities, believing he can never surpass him? Does he think he can become the president of the republic or the dictator of the land, or does he feel lucky to be in his present position because he is not really up to the task?
--What is Ego in his actuality? This is positional, changing in time and space, and can be analyzed only fractionally and for given circumstances. It is probably the likeliest situation where, materially, Alter's point of view, social semantic abstracts and Ego's point of view may coincide. Ego is a postman or a banker, is married and has three children--so will he attest, and so will his neighbors and peers. From here on, however, even within the few indicators mentioned, Ego's conception and perception of his image and role will not correspond to a mechanically calculable social standard. He may find his job below his potentials, and he may in "reality" have those potentials. Thus, he may discharge his professional responsibilities with self-confidence and little effort--which may or may not be observed by Alter--expecting opportunities more commensurate with his potentials, which may or may not present themselves. He may, because he thinks he has greater potentials, take his present responsibilities lightly and give an impression of deficiency to Alter. Or, thinking he is not up to the demands of his profession, he may devote a disproportionately greater amount of his time to meet the requirements of the role he believes he is expected to play professionally--presenting the image of a hard-working person to Alter--but in doing so he may, for example, neglect his wife and the education of his children.
Each of these situations (and we have simplified something much more complex) carries different degrees of satisfaction and frustration. What Ego thinks he should be--according to his inner viewpoint developed through his understanding of social semantic abstracts and by processing his interaction with Alter whose ideas of Ego's possibilities may differ from what Ego wants to be--will demand further interaction with Alter on its way to becoming.
The Ego/Alter interaction (adjustment/maladjustment) will be psychological, socio-psychological, social and political. Psychologically,
When the real world and the motives of the subject [Ego] are at odds, behavior is first designed to bring the real world into line with the motives. But when this is impossible, for external or internal reasons, the discrepancy (or dissonance, as it is nor called) can be reduced by appropriate changes in the perception of reality.
The degree to which Ego can change the perception of reality is, of course, limited. Beyond a certain degree of nonobservance of the norms within the social context, he will be treated as pathologically abnormal. So, socio-psychologically speaking, Ego will have to face the realities of his environment and choose to conform with, adapt to, or revolt against its norms. In passing, it is indicative that the established order does sometimes label rebellion against the norms as pathological abnormality: Ezra Pound in the United States, and scores of dissidents in the U. S. S. R.
III. Reference Groups
While an individual's inner viewpoint about his image and role has temperamental and psychological bases, the dissonances arising from Ego's interaction with his social environment can also be scrutinized on the basis of broader terms of reference.
Age, Sex and Race
We noted that in the social evolutionary process, the conserver's point of view is more likely to be preponderant. In a way, it flourishes on favorable grounds in a society because it usually corresponds to the evolution of the individual's temperament as he ages. While there are adventurer and conserver types in general, within the individual, as he grows older, the adventurer temperaments of adolescence and youth tend to cede to more conservative moods of maturity, caused by a combination of body chemistry and social conditioning. It is a truism that the young are more prone to adventure than the old. As Bismarck put it, if a man at twenty is not a socialist (socialism was an adventure in his time), he has no heart; if he is not conservative at forty, he has no head! Things have changed since Bismarck, but the statement is revealing. Whether the young have more imagination than the old is open to question. But the young, not tempered by limitative personal experiences, can give freer range to their imaginations, ideas and ideals. Youthful energy may thus give exterior social signs of the imagination or ideals not in tune with the established normative patterns. Or that energy may simply be expressed by braving the institutions: the sense of self-assertion which has to go against the norms (anti-norm) in order to feel, find and realize itself. The individual in search of ego identity may do something because he has been told not to do it, or not do it because he has been told to do it.
Traditionally, the older generation in power imposes rules of conduct and social norms which harness young energy for social purposes. By subjecting social recognition to social conformity, by restricting sexual relations and subordinating them to certain family patterns (different in different societies), the old try to keep the young in line. The need for recognition on the part of the young will then enhance performance for approval. The maturing individual will want to be "constructive" according to the social norms and will thus orient his activities (those directed towards satisfying his physiological drives as well as those for domination or challenge and game) towards socially approved areas and the development of achievement drives. The success of this evolutionary process is, of course, relative. It depends on the evolution of the total environment in time and space, and on the composition of the society.
The generation gap, although a biological fact, becomes acute in the modern context. In traditional cultures where the pace of change was slow and the experiences gained during the lifetime accumulated and remained valid for application to unchanging social, economic, cultural, political, occupational and other premises, respect and authority for the older generation and a conservative social attitude could be maintained. Furthermore, the young were introduced into adulthood and adult responsibilities much earlier than in the modern societies, where they are left out of active life by longer periods of schooling. New inventions and innovations, themselves causes and consequences of modernity, can accentuate the generation gap. Some of the experiences of the old can soon become obsolete in a fast-moving modern society. Outside influences, towards which the younger generation is generally more open, can further invigorate adventurer temperaments.
In a society where, due to modernization or other factors, the age group proportions change--such as the population increase in the developing countries due to better medical conditions, or that in Europe and the United States after World War II--a greater number of the younger generation will have an impact on the social evolutionary process. Also, the improvement in health and nutrition accompanying modernization results in longer life expectancy and can contribute to greater generation gap consciousness.
The generation gap is not, of course, the only distinctive feature of conservers and adventurers, but it plays a significant role within the social flux. In general, the younger generation, seeing its ideals as workable, tries to run beyond the social flux, while the older generation, more conservative, slows it down. This does not imply just a social dynamism of the young toward material progress and social achievement in a traditionally stagnant society. At times it may be manifested in youth's impatience with a system where, as in the U. S. A. of the 1960 's and early 1970's, the rules of aggressive enterprise contined to be upheld by a majority of the middle-class, middle-aged population, while the ideals of the young called for a relaxation of the rat race of progress and more soul-searching and reflective attitudes. While the commotion created by the youth movements may not correspond to social realities and may create social disruption, even those young ideals with valid grounds will not easily be absorbed or understood by the older generation. Man does not always change when the need for change comes. His adaptability to new conditions is limited as he ages. The human brain is a computer whose memory cannot be totally wiped out and refilled. And so the social flux moves along, carrying within itself the ebb and flow of the generation gap.
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The sex gap is unique in that it is based on continuous biological dependence and union of the two categories, a factor which through the ages has obscured social and political confrontations along sex lines. The biological necessity for the combination of the sexes and procreation has, in most societies, developed social patterns where one of the sexes heads the generally recognized social cell--the family--and hence claims a status above the other. Anthropological studies have found some isolated societies where men and women have shared equal status; historically, there have also been matriarchal societies where women have played substantial social roles; but the overwhelming majority of human cultures have discriminated in favor of men in so far as political responsibilities are concerned. Women have traditionally been subjected to men's rule from ancient China to modern Europe. It may well have been that once the male's superior physical attributes, essential in the days of wild beasts and primeval groups, were established, his privileged status was perpetuated. Another consideration may have been the female's biological handicaps of menstruation and pregnancy, which required protection, and also her sense of belonging which developed conserver dispositions through the experience of child-bearing, delivery and child-care. The female's subjection to the male is nevertheless qualified. The role of women as social and economic actors and factors has often been underestimated because of their lesser political status. In the inevitable complementarity of the sexes, while, because of physical and muscular strength men may have had the better of women and imposed on them a subordinate political status, women have been able to influence and control men through the intimate and affectional dimensions which only they, as mothers and mates, could provide. These natural faculties of women have remained their compensation throughout the centuries of male political, economic and social domination, carrying with them certain elements of security and satisfaction, combined with hardship and sacrifice.
The advent of technology and modern science has, however, disrupted the ageless pattern of relations and the social, political and economic positions of the sexes. The male's muscular strength has been, to a large extent, replaced by mechanical devices, which at the same time have liberated women from many of their traditional chores. The male is challenged by the suffragettes, Tampax, the pill and Women's Lib. Women's gain of political and social consciousness has brought about a confrontation between the sexes which is now in process. In its evolution, this confrontation may have consequences beyond the redistribution of tasks and responsibilities at the social, political and economic levels. The relationship of the sexes has biological foundations on which men and women build their psychological identities. It may well be that the individual will be able to readjust his or her psychic balance and adapt it to the new sex relationships as women further assert their social role as equal, independent and sovereign partners of men. But it is still too early to tell what the psychological, social and political ramifications of this movement will be. We are too conditioned by our present, inculcated patterns of behavior which regulate our psyches and glandular secretions to be able to assess the behaviors of men and women of the age of equality. We do know, however, that many of the moral and ethical norms which have hitherto regulated sexual relations and behavior will become obsolete. Where the woman will no longer look at man as her provider and protector and the man will no longer have claims of property on woman, not only new social arrangements but also new psychological attitudes can develop so that in mutual respect, men, while losing their pretensions of superiority, will not lose their virility, and women, while gaining social status, will not lose their femininity.
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For thousands of years, in different cultures at different times, men of certain birth, blood and/or race have been held to be, beyond other qualities, more daring, adventurous and innovative than others. To mention a few, at one time the Romans, the Greeks, the Persians and the Chinese were the superior, virile adventurers; then the Visigoths, the Arabs, the Turks and the Mongols. Each later settled down to conserve what it had procured and claimed supremacy, first on the basis of its adventurous reputation, then its superior culture. In the recent past the white man has made that claim over the black and the yellow by virtue of his aggressiveness and his innovative aptitudes. That races exist is a biological fact, in the sense that some human groups are generally slimmer or stockier, darker or lighter, or share a particular feature. That certain races have played markedly superior roles at different times is also a historical fact. But this latter fact--the time factor--reduces the validity of intrinsic biological explanations for racial characteristics and stratification.
Does the Jewish man correspond to the stereotyped cowardly race (in which even he himself in many ways believed up to World War II) or to the tough Israeli soldier of today? Is the black man the "superstitious, lazy and happy-go-lucky" stereotype held by American college students of the 1930's, or the militant civil rights fighter of the 1960's? Racial characteristics do not seem to be constants; they change according to times, places and circumstances. They do, however, provide for the creation and justification of social gaps. Because race is a biological fact, the individual sees himself and others in the light of its prevailing stereotypes and reacts positively or negatively towards them.
Of course, the racial factor is only one variable among many others. Sometimes, because of particular circumstances, its role is magnified, as was the case of the Jews and Germans, and as is the case of whites and blacks in the United States. At other times it is diluted in other biological and social considerations. The racial gap overlaps man's biological and social dimensions and, like age and sex, gains importance for our analysis when it becomes a factor for social and political stratifications and discriminations. We have, therefore, scattered its discussion throughout the book as an ingredient of social dynamics, including it notably in our examination of class structure later in this chapter.
Intelligence and Education
Intelligence and education play a pivotal role between the more biological and the more social reference factors. The individual should not only be given the opportunity socially to receive education, but is also expected to have the capacity to benefit from it. Here again, the debate has been controversial as to whether men are born equal in so far as intelligence is concerned and are handicapped by socialization, or whether there are inherent intelligence differences among individuals. So far, the biological arguments have not been conclusive because of the nature of the subject--man--who cannot be analyzed without his social dimensions. The fact remains that there are intelligence differences among different individuals. The differences arise, however, in the process of learning and reacting to social stimuli, and no matter what the "innate" intelligence, the social factors play the decisive role in tapping it through education and experience. And education and experience are provided by the other factors we have been and will be discussing: For example, experience comes with age and with exposure to the total environment; and education and its quality, even in the most advanced countries, depend on other social factors such as wealth, status or class.
While intelligence as an individual attribute can be recognized, it does not provide a socially discernible and standardized criterion. Education, on the other hand, relies on the transmission of knowledge through the symbolic system and thus provides formal patterns of measurement. In traditional societies, the intelligent farmer or laborer was still just a farmer or a laborer, but the man who had sat at the feet of the master and learned the Vedas or the Koran, or passed the Chinese Civil Service Examinations, was the educated man. In modern times it is the special training and the college degree which, to a large extent, distinguish the educated from the uneducated. While there is reason to believe that the intelligent get educated, there nevertheless seems to exist a disproportionate social attitude, especially among the uneducated, to mistake education for intelligence and, still more irrelevant, for wisdom. Another area of confusion is the overlapping of educational background and intellectualism. Raw intelligence is not enough to qualify one as an intellectual. Generally speaking, the intellectual is an "educated" man because he seeks to learn. But an educated man is not necessarily an intellectual. Intellectualism implies the bent to ponder. An educated man may simply be one with a great deal of training, which he uses functionally for his skill and profession, with little inclination for intellectual inquiry.
In terms of intellect, there are those who, beyond intellectualism, have reached the wisdom of knowing that they do not know, and there are the pseudo-intellectuals who, without good judgment, join the bandwagon and populate the ranks of the intelligentsia. While these are broad typologies, their characteristics may be present in one and the same individual under different circumstances. Everyone, unless he is a megalomaniac, at times knows and at other times knows that he does not know.
In each society we find some standards for recognizing the educated and the uneducated, the intellectual and the common man, contributing to the formation of both self- and social image. The educational and the intellectual criteria, however, make sense only in combination with other social factors. For example, reverting to our adventurer/conserver model, among the educated, depending on their age, status and other factors, we may find some more conservers and others more adventurers. A study of creativity and exploratory drives found people in the unconventional occupations such as "adventurers, inventors and writers" significantly more creative than those in conventional occupations such as "lawyers, doctors and professors." Similar studies have demonstrated that, politically speaking, intellectualism, inclined to question, opens perspectives conducive to "liberal"--adventurer-attitudes, while educated professionals, who attain social status by their learned skills, tend towards "conservative"--conserver--attitudes.
As for those who, according to prevailing criteria, do not qualify as "educated" and "intellectual," we should realize that their adventurer/conserver pattern of behavior depends on a complex of intermingling social factors, which will lead us to our later discussion of wealth, status and class indicators. Taking for a moment education alone, we may find that those who lack educational sophistication (often the lot of the lower classes) have limited perspectives for change and lean towards conserver attitudes. In this they tend to grow anti-intellectual and suspicious of those who advocate adventure into an unknown future. They fear rather than seek the unknown. The Russian nineteenth-century intellectuals were not favorably received by the Muziks, whom they went to convert to their revolutionary ideas in their villages. Lack of education, however, is only one of the social factors. When the underprivileged becomes conscious of lacks and their consequences, he may throw himself open to the adventure of revolution and a hypothetical future. In doing so, if he does not gain enough experience to widen his perspective, he may merely be used as an instrument and find himself again relegated to the lower strata of society. In the words of James Madison, "Knowledge will always govern ignorance and those who want to govern themselves must arm themselves with this power."
So the undereducated may come into conflict with the "educated" either because the latter is an adventurer and is rocking the boat, or because his education is due to other factors such as wealth, status and class, which the lower class wants. Of course, the consciousness of the undereducated of his lacks indicate exposure to some education and the use of his intellect. Even in the extreme of the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century colonial South of the United States, where laws were enacted against teaching the blacks to read and write, there were those who taught, and there were those who learned and eventually changed the social pattern. Education and intelligence are, then, assets for the individual to evaluate his social situation and participate in the social evolution or revolution.
Status, Wealth and Class
As our discussion in the foregoing section developed, we were no longer talking strictly about education in the formal sense, but also about the social, economic and political dynamics that bring about status, wealth and class distinctions. These factors have served to establish a social hierarchy as long as man has been a political animal. The combinations of status, wealth and class with age, sex, race, intelligence and education as reference points for identification, provide for social order, buttressed by corresponding value systems. Marx and Engels, by fitting this complex of social dynamics and fermentations into a model of class struggle--in which the history of mankind could be reduced basically to the antagonism between an exploitive ruling class holding the means of production and an exploited class surviving by its labor alone--brought to light the underlying conflicting interest patterns within society. Further developments showed that their model was more directly geared to explaining social dynamics during acute crises (revolutionary periods) when interests and their underlying values polarized for confrontation. Indeed, in these periods, while the struggle may have been ignited essentially by the interests of a particular class, the two fronts face each other in the name of the oppressed and the oppressor. But each side is composed of different classes. The revolutionaries of the French Revolution included bourgeois, farmer, worker, intellectual and aristocrat. So did the Russians and the Chinese. This happens, as we shall see shortly, when the social structures lose their flexibility and do not provide an evolutionary process permitting interaction, transaction and interpenetration among the different social strata.
In an evolutionary social process, the individual, while identifying himself by certain standards, whether of property or income, occupation, education, official position, title, association, birth, ethnic group or life-style, does not necessarily feel antagonistic towards those identifying with other standards. When the value system--or the constellation of interacting value systems--functions adequately, the individual finds symbiotic justification for social differentiations and stratifications. We do not imply that there are no resentments among classes, but that the social semantics do not necessarily lend themselves to misunderstandings which would mobilize classes against each other. There are, then, depending on the structure of the society and its evolution, different degrees of class consciousness, class structures, and class conflict in different societies. In general, the more a society is heterogeneous and dynamic, the more variations in its class structure, and the fewer its entrenched class struggles.
A flexible, modern society, by the very nature of its structure (and for its own development), provides for transclass mobility which, in some areas, may be more fictitious than real. But if transclass mobility is a recognized premise of the prevailing value system and is supported by some social indices of occurrence, it reduces social confrontations along class lines. Where the lower class working man sees the possibility to better his lot through the system, he is unlikely to band with others to overthrow it. He may band with them to bargain, but it is unlikely that in that situation he would revolt. Mobility, of course, goes both upwards and downwards. The mobility that permits transclass fluidity is expansive, as has generally been witnessed in the industrialized countries. A compressive mobility that pushes downwards, as in a period of economic depression, may rigidify classes by defensive attitudes creating social conflicts.
Possibilities of transclass mobility will attenuate class border lines. This
attenuation will depend on the traditional structures a society may have had and on the accessibility or nonaccessibility of the upper classes. In the United States, for example, with practically no hereditary blood nobility, the distinction of the upper class has been based mainly on wealth--the capacity to make it and hold it. Even the few aristocrats who settled in colonial Virginia and Maryland had to put their hands to work and cease to be "gentlemen" by the British definition (that is, men who did not have to work for a living). Furthermore, in the United States, the social and environmental dynamics kept the making of fortunes rolling and, in the process, changing hands. First there were fortunes made from tobacco, rice, cotton, indigo, shipping and manufacturing, mainly on the East Coast. Then, as the westward and southward drives continued, new wealth was made by new adventurers: midwestern cattle-raising, Pittsburgh steel, cross-country railroads, Minnesota flour mills, Chicago meat-packing, San Francisco shipping, Texas oil, Detroit car-manufacturing, California movie-making, and finally the electronics industry.
The builders of these empires were the upper crust of the financial world that shaped the American society. But their class, according to the country's value system, was not a sacred caste. It was there for anybody who really aspired to it and who had the commensurate determination and personal qualities to join. Those who reached it distinguished themselves as "society." The texture of "society" changed, first slowly, then faster. In the process it adopted new criteria for distinction. The old style had certain standards of respectability and continuity--both for making fortunes and for keeping them. Ward McAllister, who listed the elite "Four Hundred" in 1888, considered that it would take three generations to make a gentleman out of an American. Things have changed since then. The "society" found that fortune could buy more than respectability and that there was more to life than fortune. The contemporary "society" or the "jet set," as they are called, have become more a class of celebrities whose fame may be due to wealth or to jobs considered glamorous: movie stars, artists, fashion designers, models, champions of certain sports, journalists and authors.
However, a closer look at this shifting upper class in the United States reveals the basic criterion for the modern industrial society's class distinctions. It is a variation on the theme of material fortune: achievement and success. The measure of achievement in the heyday of capitalism was capital. As the saying went, money was not happiness, but it could buy good substitutes for it. As the focus on fortune increased, so did the number of substitutes for happiness. Among them was the success of those who achieved not by fortune but by talent. The well-to-do and the talented have made contact through success, and the current has gone both ways. While many in the established financial upper class have moved towards replacing some of the substitutes with "real" things, the talented have moved towards making fortunes through their talents. After all, the secure criterion for belonging to the upper social strata is still money. Nevertheless, there has been a discernible movement, mainly within the upper levels of society, for fulfillment through a "meaningful" life-style rather than a class distinction by fortune.
This trend, however, is perceptible only among people with greater sophistication, education and social awareness, who are generally found among the upper classes. For the main bulk of the American middle and lower classes, the criterion is still material achievement, and the average American ranks people on the basis of property and income. Thus some American college professors, believing they have found a "meaningful" occupation, may consider themselves (and be considered by the higher classes) part of the upper social strata because of their sophistication and life-style, yet they may be considered by the middle class as part of the middle class because of their income.
The lower class of American society has also been largely a shifting class. New migrations and territorial mobility, as cause and consequence of the social and economic dynamics, have contributed to this process. While the principal criterion of their classification is basically economic, other indices such as education and occupation overlap class distinctions. There is also the particular case of the blacks, Indians, Mexican Americans and Orientals in the United States--a case with more racial overtones than class characteristics. But the racial question gains social and political significance when used to analyze lower class psychology. The upward move needs certain minimum assets which, when lacking as in the lower classes, make the individual class-bound. The individual tries to compensate for his inability to move up by keeping those considered below him down, thus creating for himself a source of psychological satisfaction. This phenomenon explains why the American lower classes have generally been more hostile to racial integration.
In considering class structure and transclass mobility in other industrialized, free-enterprise societies, namely Western Europe and Japan, we have to take into account their traditional past. The social and economic expansion resulting from capitalist and industrial revolution in these countries was accompanied by the inevitable transclass mobility. But it did not dilute class distinctions as much as it has in the United States. Western European and Japanese modernity has been built atop social structures rooted in traditional cultures. The slow pace characteristic of traditional patterns permits the consolidation of long-lasting social positions and statuses passed from one generation to another. While these patterns evolve with time and circumstances, they nevertheless provide for class distinctions. Heredity, under these conditions, not only provides for the passage of fortune, but accompanies deep-rooted modes of behavior, life-style and social and class consciousness. It is significant, for example, to note a perceptible difference in the degree of emphasis placed on heredity in European studies of class structure compared to those made in the United States. Surely, Warner's study, Social Class in America, points out that the road to success is shorter for the children of the upper class, but he considers the situation from the vista of material achievement and sees heredity as only one of many handicaps for the lower classes. Duverger, treating the same subject in European terms, looks at achievement from the vantage point of heredity, which he seems to present as the overriding handicap of the lower classes. Compare Warner's statement: "It is common knowledge that the sons and daughters of the Gold Coasts, the Main Lines, and Park Avenues of America are more likely to receive recognition for their efforts than the children of the slums," with that of Duverger: "The hereditary transmission of privileges or inequalities is the fundamental basis of the class concept."
Class patterns in different European countries, of course, are not alike. But in their general outline they do reflect a broad common consciousness. Where the American talks about income brackets, the European talks about classes. It is as if the individual in Europe needs a social classification to replace the traditional estates of the past. Aristocracy has lost most (and in some places all) of its formal privileges, but an aristocratic title still evokes a certain social status. The middle class identifies itself as bourgeoisie--with gradations, including a "high bourgeoisie" which in many aspects resembles the American upper upper class. While the European high bourgeoisie has been attributed greater "sophistication" than its American homologue, it has used the same measuring rod of wealth. And above all, in the European context the workman is generally conscious of his place and interests within the society as a member of the proletariat class. These patterns of class consciousness in Europe, as distinct from those of the United States, can explain, for example, the more class-oriented political parties in Europe as compared to the United States.
Our discussion of the influence of traditional patterns on class structures in the industrialized countries leads us to the question of class structures in the traditional societies in general, and permits us to note here the contrast between the dynamism of modern societies, enhancing transclass mobility, and the traditional patterns that provided either orderly and established rules for passage from one class to another, such as the traditional Chinese culture, or the frozen and rigid class--or rather caste-systems such as the one in India. The social flux can evolve as long as the prevailing class and caste system meets the requirement of the social dynamics. A society's value system should help justify each member's place within the social strata. For centuries, the Indian caste system adequately met the social needs of classification by inculcating the population with conservative attitudes towards the social order, and by Sanskritization of the adventurers who poured in every now and then, such as the Rajputs, by accommodating them within the social strata, making them want to conserve their position.
The evolutionary continuity of a social flux depends on the concordance of its rate of change with the value system which upholds its social stratification. In a slow-moving traditional society, the class system may approach caste rigidity, supported by the prevailing value system; and the individual, identifying with his lot, may not question status and privilege discrepancies. In an industrial, mobile society, the value system should uphold transclass mobility, satisfying the individual that while there are social strata, in the context of social dynamics and fermentations he is not class bound. The myth of the self-made man was that the enterprising young man should begin at the bottom of the scale and work his way up, as Andrew Carnegie suggested. This latter social semantic somehow implies that if, in a society with opportunities for advancement, one does not progress, it is one’s own fault. The relativity of this statement is obvious. We have seen that neither will the individual easily accept this condemnation (and even if his failure is his own fault, he will, in order to balance his psyche, try to find a scapegoat), nor does a society, with all its inequalities of birth, education, wealth and status, offer unhandicapped opportunities to all.
If the social flux runs smoothly enough to reconcile these discrepancies, the evolutionary process may continue. But when the social semantics grow dissonant and individuals find themselves at odds with their status in the social classification, they will grow discontent. When discontent generalizes, the social change moves from an evolutionary towards a revolutionary process. The attitude of the members of the society towards their class structure thus follows the pattern of their behavior towards the whole of the normative system. Class structure is, in the end, a manifestation of the normative system, and the individual's attitude towards it may oscillate within the range of conformity--consent--indifference/apathy--dissent--conflict--and revolution. The revolutionary stage should, of course, be considered in the light of the social fermentations and dynamics so far discussed, and not simply as an outcome of class antagonisms. In a dynamic situation, the excessively rigid attitude of any of the antagonists in the distinctive patterns discussed as group references can contribute to social upheavals. In a stagnant or slow-moving traditional situation, of course, the discrepancy may be accepted, not perceived, or remain a chafing friction.
It is noteworthy that consciousness of the discrepancy needs contiguity and familiarity. To revolt against the privileged, the underprivileged must first know about the privileges of the privileged. As Marx puts it, "A house may be large or small; as long as the neighboring houses are likewise small, it satisfies all social requirements for a residence. But let there arise next to the little house a palace, and the little house shrinks into a hut." Of course, consciousness of the lower classes about the discrepancy may be hindered where the rights and privileges of the upper class are rendered impermeable by the value system and the likelihood of intermingling among the classes is reduced. Not many Hindu untouchables had occasion to see what was going on in the Maharaja's palace. The other imperative, familiarity, is more crucial. It is when the privilege no longer seems exclusive and the class barriers are blurred that consciousness about the discrepancies is sharpened. When the likelihood of transclass mobility grows and upper/middle/ lower class distinctions are further broken down into intermediary stages, those in different classes develop ambivalent yet more open attitudes towards other classes. They are ambivalent because the individual may be personally inclined toward more rigid class distinctions, but under social pressure may adopt more conciliatory social attitudes. The interpenetration and intercourse among classes will then create familiarity of the members of each class with the standards, privileges and life-styles of the contiguous classes, reducing the sacredness of class boundaries.
The individual's awareness and militancy in different classes and categories is, of course, relative and not uniform. The lower class, the most oppressed, may, for reasons already discussed, be the least inclined towards adventurous undertakings. As Lipset and Linz say, "Those who have nothing to lose but their chains may be too closely chained, psychologically, to the desperation of their lot to generalize their predicament, to face the consequences of a malcontent position, or otherwise add to their suffering by striving for social change." It is rather those who have already been exposed to some mobility, who have developed the taste for change and critical choice-making and are frustrated because they do not find the pace or direction of the social evolution correct according to their interests or values, that will eventually draw the underprivileged (but conservative) classes into the adventure of social conflict and revolution. Their success in doing so will depend on the nature of the prevailing social patterns, the ideologies or myths they advance, and the methods they choose; and the outcome will depend on the stage of the social evolutionary process. In Russia many revolutionary activities had failed prior to the Bolshevik Revolution. In Germany and Italy the National Socialist and Fascist movements respectively succeeded because the evolutionary process in those countries had reached the point of disruption and the radical left was not well enough organized to meet the challenge. The political events in May, 1968, in France, spearheaded by young intellectuals and students, was only partly followed by the working class; and as the subsequent elections showed, it brought about some changes but did not disrupt the overall social order because there were no real grounds for an all-out revolutionary movement. The social conflicts of the 1960's and 70's in the U. S. A. also, while creating upheavals of national magnitude, did not disrupt the basic American social and political pattern because the evolutionary process has been functional. The American social structure and political culture have so far been flexible and accommodating toward the shocks of racial, generational and economic gaps.
IV. From Conformity to Revolt
Whether the society-continues an evolutionary trend or takes a revolutionary turn depends, then, not only on the discontent of a few but on the social structures and circumstances, which shape the viewpoint of the many. But the many is composed of individuals, and in the last analysis, whether the individual uses his choice-making potentials to go along with the prevailing social flux or to go against it--or to join those who go with or against it-will depend on how well the social semantics accords with his temperament, as discussed in the past pages. We have already considered how symbols by which men communicate are subject to variations as they are transmitted within the social context. The variations, of course, result not only from differences in the physiological structure of the receiving and transmitting organs, but also from psychological and social predispositions. While human beings look alike, the combination and sequence of their exposures to their total environment make the life experience of each unique. I do not know whether my interlocutor's organism registers the same shape, volume, color, movement, sound or smell as mine does for what we conventionally call "cow"; and I do not even know what the word evokes in him. It all depends on his past experience, interests, temperament, mood and inclination. My cow is a different cow for a farmer, a feedlot manager, a painter, a gourmet, a child who has been kicked by one or a child who has milked one. So cowl is not cow2.
The discrepancy between the inner representation of phenomena within each individual influences his choice and has social consequences. To kill or not to kill the cow, that may be the question. There is no question for the feedlot operator or the Hindu Brahmin. One kills the cow, the other does not. As you can see, we are not talking about the same cow. The cows of the feedlot operator and those of the Brahmin are cows of different interests and values. But in the context of social reality, choices are not always so clear-cut and easy to explain. Within a culture, adherence to social norms is not uniform. As we discussed earlier, those whose interests correspond to the prevailing values willingly adhere to them and try to persuade others to do so too. Those who do not benefit from them may try to change them. The value judgment is, of course, more complex than pure material calculations. "If I feel that my satisfaction is reduced by somebody else's poverty (or, for that matter, by somebody else's wealth), then I am injured in precisely the same sense as if my purchasing power were reduced."
This quotation from Arrow points out that conformity and nonconformity to the prevailing norms are not always distinguishable along easily and materially detectable lines. You may be rich and yet uneasy about another's poverty, or you may be wealthy and jealous of another's wealth for affectional reasons. The man whose interest fits the prevailing norms may not conform to them as strictly as he "should." Nor does the individual who does not benefit from the system always have revolutionary attitudes concomitant with the degree of his disadvantage. Because of particular life experiences, expectations and statuses, some individuals may over-react to the impact of the social normative system. Thus, for example, the intellectual may be better off because the prevailing normative system favors his stratum, yet he may become a militant revolutionary, while a member of the working class, whom the system does not advantage, may nevertheless uphold the system. There may be gradations in individual attitudes towards the social value system, ranging from conformity to revolt, not always corresponding to social status and privileges.
In our analysis of the conformity/revolt spectrum, we should take into account the subjective expectations of the members of society: to what extent is the individual satisfied or frustrated within the social flux? And by satisfaction we do not necessarily mean security because some members of society may desire variety and change, the absence of which may contribute to their frustration, boredom and dissatisfaction. The possibilities for security and change within a social flux, no matter how streamlined, do not guarantee the satisfaction of all the members of the society because of their different temperaments, inclinations and particularly their expectations, based on their unique life experiences.
Conformity and Consent
Individuals conform to the established norms for different reasons. We have already discussed the different socio-psychological patterns which can be conducive to conformity. Adherence to the norms can be due to Ego's "objective" calculations that the established norms are in his interest--for his security and well-being. His "objective" calculation may result from persuasion that conformity is in his interest or from an orientation produced by indoctrination and the consequent shrinkage of Ego's conceptual and perceptual angles--in short, his ignorance about other alternatives. Our distinction here between persuasion and indoctrination is based on the amount of reasoning or passive acceptance they involve--persuasion implying that the subject is won over by appeals to his reasoning process; indoctrination that he is passive and impressed by the flood of information. These take place through the value-crystallization processes and the intervention of the value-forming agencies covered in our earlier chapters. In some instances the individual's passionate conformity may be aroused by intoxication, i.e., by indoctrination with an emotional charge, such as haranguing propaganda, employed particularly in times of crisis. Conformity may be due to coercive overtones: Ego conforms because of the fear of sanction. This sanction need not be legal, but simply group pressure, which may not, for that matter, present any outward threat except the danger of rejection by the group. The individual conforms to group norms for want of recognition. Succumbing to group pressure may also be interpreted as the individual's herd reflex, reflecting man's tendency to accept group norms. These factors and those that follow obviously do not operate in isolation, but overlap.
Acquiescence and Apathy
So far, whether due to "objective" considerations, persuasion, indoctrination, intoxication or herd reflex, Ego's behavior runs along the conformity-consent pattern. Further along the spectrum, Ego may acquiesce. When his application for a job is rejected, he may say to himself, "I am a failure," and he may blame himself on the basis of certain established norms, attributing his failure to his own deficiencies. In judging himself by the standards of the prevailing normative system he in fact accepts them. By accepting a set of norms according to which he fails, he internalizes his frustrations. Together with acquiescence in which failure resulting from the normative standards turns inward and infects the individual, he can develop apathy and indifference and abide by the norms because they constitute the path of least friction; they keep him out of trouble and away from the coercive machinery of the normative system.
But then he may also stop and think and conclude that his failure is due to certain norms which do not correspond to his idea of fair play and equity. For example, he may find that the criteria for recruitment, selection or election favor one class over another. He may be of the black race undergoing tests tailored for white values and aptitudes. She may be of the female sex and have to abide by men's rules. He may be young (or old) and face an age limit. He may find himself handicapped because of lack of wealth and property, as were the voters in England and the United States. Or he may see himself hindered by lack of education, as the blacks were in the South of the United States. He may find that the current social norms demand connections or a certain birth or status for success. Then, instead of saying, "I am a failure," he may say, "The system is prejudiced, biased and unfair."
Dissent and Civil Disobedience
Moving toward more active stands, he may resent or dissent within the framework of the system. In doing so, as opposed to the individual who internalizes his frustrations, the dissenter externalizes his disagreement with the normative system. There is, of course, no clear-cut, either/or situation. Most individuals both internalize and externalize their social frustrations.
Between dissent and revolt, externalization of discontent involves different degrees of political activism with different philosophical and normative implications. Dissent does not always imply an outright violent drive to overthrow the prevailing system. The dissenter may aim at compromise or turn to nonviolent and passive civil disobedience, like the Gandhian Satyagraha. But from here on he is slipping to the other side of the fence as far as the prevailing normative system is concerned, and as his alienation from that system grows, he feels more and more the impact and confrontation of the legal machinery which, as noted in our discussion of norms in Chapter Six, discourages those whose deviations from the prevailing normative system may endanger the social structure.
The nature of an individual's nonobservance of the moral, ethical and legal norms needs emphasis, as it will help our understanding of civil disobedience. Deviations from moral and ethical norms, we noticed, may be more fluid and lack strictly prescribed sanctions. But in matters of law, the distinction between the legal and the illegal is supposed to be well-defined. It is not a matter of nonconformity; one breaks the law and is punished accordingly. The decision on whether one has disobeyed a law or not, as it is implied in statutory and civil laws, is supposed to be a fact-finding process, not a value judgment. Even in common law, where judgments based on custom, precedent and the wisdom of judge and jury are at the same time fact-finding and law-making processes, common standards (in the sense of being common knowledge) are to be respected. The fundamental principle of ignorantia juris neminem excusat (ignorance of the law excuses no one) implies the existence of a legal norm, carrying sanctions, prior to the repressible act. But seldom are legal norms--statutory, civil or common--free from value judgments, and usually they are inspired by moral values and social ethics.
The individual members of the society may have different attitudes and views on the legal norms and their valuational bases. The professional burglar does not break the law because he disagrees with the moral principle of "Thou shalt not steal." He is, in a way, accepting the rules and playing the game. If he finds the laws not harsh enough to dissuade him, or if he gets away with it, it is too bad for society. If he is caught, it is too bad for him. He may be dissuaded from continuing, or he may just try harder next time not to get caught. This corresponds to Oliver Wendell Holmes' famous theory: "If you want to know the law and nothing else, you must look at it as a bad man, who cares only for the material consequences which such knowledge enables him to predict, not as a good one, who finds his reasons for conduct, whether inside the law or outside of it, in the vague sanctions of conscience."
If the law is efficacious, the overwhelming majority of the society will not break it. The mass man abides by the law not so much because he is consistently conscious of its existence, aware of its sanctions and morally and ethically in favor of it, but because law-breaking is not likely to be his social and/or mental predisposition. The "normal" man does not walk in the streets wishing he could kick, kill or rob other people, restraining himself only because he is aware and afraid of the legal consequences. When the law is efficacious, it is probably because it corresponds to the moral and ethical norms by which the subjects of law have been socialized, rather than because it is based on purely coercive machinery. Only if law is based on pure coercion does it imply that the mass man is conscious of the law's existence and, if it were not for the coercive machinery behind it, would not abide by it--as may happen, for example, in times of alien military occupation. Under "normal" circumstances, it is not so much that the individual abides by the law because it is efficacious, but that the law is efficacious because the individual abides by it.
Obedience to the law is, therefore, the more formally prescribed dimension of social behavior. The man who, by his moral convictions, observations of social ethics, self-interest, need for group recognition and tendency to follow the path of least friction, conforms generally to the prevailing normative system does not come into conflict with the legal coercive machinery. Our model, although not necessarily modal, is the mass man, and the more the society is inhabited by his species, the greater the social consensus. Our man pays his taxes and rent on time and moves on when the police officer tells him to. Not that he is a robot of conformity. There will be many norms to which he will conform more or less closely. But within their broad confines, he will probably die without having spent a night in a jail. By that criterion he is a law-abiding citizen. He is the ingredient of the majority which, by its sheer weight and size, keeps the social flux on course. This is the majority against whose tyranny de Tocqueville, John Stuart Mill and Thoreau warned us, not only because it creates social pressure for conformity to the moral and ethical norms, but because it allows the tyranny of the law. De Tocqueville, analyzing American democracy, asks:
If an individual or a party is wronged [by the majority] in the United States, to whom can he turn for redress? Not to the public opinion, because the public opinion constitutes the majority; not to the legislature, because it represents the majority and implicitly obeys it; not to the executive power, which is appointed by the majority, and a passive tool in its hands .... The jury is the majority invested with the right to hear judicial cases; and in certain states even the judges are elected by the majority.
The question leads us, beyond the "bad man" who plays cops and robbers and the individual who finds it convenient to conform to and thus perpetuate the laws, to the individual who does not find certain laws justified on questions of principle rather than on questions of convenience. What is he to do? Should he submit to the law or disobey it? The question has been examined from Socrates to Thoreau and beyond. It raises a complex of other problems such as the legitimacy of authority, the law-making process and the participation of the governed in that process, and even the general character of the government. We will attend to these problems later. For now, however, let us emphasize the particular aspect of individuals' negative attitudes towards a legal norm. Nonconformity may stretch from indifference to dissent and thence to conflict and revolt. In the realm of legal norms, some of these stages will not significantly differ from those of moral and ethical norms. An individual may be indifferent to a law which does not provide equal pay for equal work by a woman. He may be indifferent to a law which disenfranchises the blacks. The individual in question may, for that matter, be the woman or the black, yet indifferent to her or his own unfavorable situation.
Dissent from a legal norm, although implying a more distinguishable action than dissent from moral and ethical norms, may still not constitute an illegal act, as is the case with a poster parade, voluntary boycott or refusal to accept government employment. When, however, an individual chooses to break the law to express his objection--whether he breaks the law to which he objects directly or another law as an indirect manifestation of his objection (like not paying taxes that would be spent on wars to which he does not subscribe)--he is engaging in civil disobedience, which is distinct from criminal disobedience. Civil disobedience is a systematic, deliberate and public illegal act, manifesting basic disapproval and defiance of a law or policy of the established authority. The public nature of this defiance is a particular characteristic of civil disobedience. To illustrate, the difference is between the individual who sneaks into the missile site, is caught and is then suspected of espionage, theft, or vandalism, and the person who announces his intention to go to the site and brandish a poster denouncing governmental policy. In order to qualify as civil disobedience, the manifestation of disapproval should have some moral and ethical premises. No matter how much the act does, in fact, directly and materially benefit the civil disobedient, it should be based on some plausible conviction or principle. As Zinn puts it, it should constitute a "deliberate violation of law for a vital social purpose." A man who hampers the work on a government site to help his business cannot claim civil disobedience. This possible extreme shows that there are different degrees of conscientiousness on the part of those who engage in civil disobedience. There is civil disobedience rooted in interests, and there is that generated by values. The danger of this categorization is that what some may consider justified disobedience against unreasonable and unjust laws, those on the establishment side may label interested opportunism or impractical idealism.
This raises the question of the criteria for civil disobedience. Can individuals sharing a democratic and pluralistic system where (at least theoretically, according to the society's constitution) through debate, persuasion and free elections the authoritative apparatus can be won over, resort to civil disobedience? What if after every debate, persuasion and free election, the same class, race, sex or religious group is left out of the authoritative apparatus? Even if that apparatus represents the majority and the Rousseauean general will, should the minority perpetually submit to laws and policies it finds unjust? Should the opposers of a law or policy resort to civil disobedience to avert the likelihood of a fait accompli when in certain cases a time factor is involved, and waiting for a constitutional change may make it too late to override the effects of that law or policy?
It is paradoxical that, as a general rule, where the system lends itself to civil disobedience, the possibilities for changing the objectionable laws through due process are greater. The more democratic and flexible the political culture, the more the possibilities for demonstrating dissent and disobedience, but also for influencing the law and policy-making process. When a group has a justifiable point to put across and the society at large has a reasonable level of tolerance and openness, the likelihood of passing the message along and winning support is greater, as was the case with racial desegregation in the United States. Of course, too much tolerance and social openness may result in slackness and permissiveness, breeding factionalism and favoring disintegration. But as a general rule, the more billy clubs appear in defense of law and order, the more the regime becomes autocratic, the less chance there is of open dissent and civil disobedience, and also the less likelihood that those being suppressed will be given a chance to win over the establishment through due process of law. The growing suppressive process in a polity is symptomatic of growing irreconcilable positions. This does not imply, however, that the more civil disobedience is possible, the less it is justified. In a democratic setting, civil disobedience may indeed bring public attention to a problem whose oversight or complacency to it would otherwise endanger the future of the democratic process and deteriorate the social cohesion.
As the conflict becomes more acute, civil disobedience, which may have begun nonviolently (unless it is overwhelming in magnitude, like the Gandhian movement in India), will become hard to maintain against suppression. Continued, determined and effective suppression of resistance may then discourage disobedience and make the individual submissive, reverting to apathetic conformity. But if resistance continues in the face of oppression, it often turns into violent action. We are thus moving from civil disobedience to revolt. While the civil disobedient and the revolutionary may share many characteristics, they may differ in the degree of change they advocate and the techniques they are willing to employ. Whether one is more inclined to partial and gradual reforms or to the total overthrow of the system depends on the degree of irreconcilability that exists, the means for bringing about the desired change, and the temperaments and patterns of militancy.
Revolt: Radical and Reactionary Extremism
In our earlier list of charges of suspicion against the man who had sneaked into a missile site, we purposely left out the possible charge of sabotage, which could clearly have been a violent but secret gesture of dissent. True, the civil disobedient may also become involved in sabotage to press his point. But openly carrying a protest poster and covertly placing a time bomb on highly guarded premises require different predispositions. When the individual reaches the point of revolt, he is alienated from the prevailing normative system. Indeed, what he preaches is not compatible with the prevailing normative system; i.e., it is not upheld by what Marsiglio of Padua called the weightier part of the society (whether it be the majority in number or some other criterion of power), for otherwise a revolution would not be necessary and the evolutionary process would suffice to right what is wrong.
The revolutionary must then envisage, for the advancement of his viewpoint, the possibility of resorting to extreme violence against the prevailing normative system--hence the appellation "extremists" for those who preach revolution. The extreme of discontent is also extreme in that it concerns the basic values of the prevailing social norms. However, whether the extremist is against the basic values and the prevailing social norms, or whether he is for the basic values (as he interprets them) but against the prevailing social norms (as he sees them practiced) makes all the difference. The first will be on the radical left, the second on the reactionary (fascist) right.
The radical on the left attacks mainly the basic values of the society. In the Western world, for example, he maintains that free enterprise and capitalism permit the exploitation of man by man, that material progress and excessive industrialization are detrimental to human dignity and handicap spiritual growth. He maintains that if the majority of the people go along with the system, it is because they are duped by those with an interest in perpetuating it and imposing it on the masses; that if the people could be made aware, could be educated to see the flaws of the system's basic premises, they would overthrow it and bring about a new order. It would be an order of social justice which would expropriate, by social arrangements, private means of production and stop exploitation of the masses of laborers. But the problem of the radical left is that the system will not let it inform the masses and open their eyes--hence the impossibility of its winning a majority through democratic processes, and therefore the need for revolution.
The extremist on the right, on the other hand, mostly claims support on the basis of what he holds to be the society's basic values, from which the society has deviated and to which, for its own salvation, it should return. Hence the appelation "reactionary" for the extreme right. The reactionary wants to revive past values--which he glorifies--and to purify the society. He claims the traditional heritage on the basis of his own interpretation. The extreme right, the reactionaries, are also referred to as fascists (the term being used not in direct reference to Italian Fascists, but as a general definition of reactionaries--probably because the Italian Fascists claimed a return to the glory and authority of ancient Rome). The fascist attacks, then, not the basic social values as he sees them but the prevailing social norms which have betrayed the basic values. He feels that since corruption has generalized and the masses have gone astray, in order to cure the evil he must resort to revolution to seize power, awaken the people and lead them to the right path. Examples of these attitudes are to be found in such movements as German Nazism, Italian Fascism, the Spanish Falange or the American John Birch Society.
While, from the point of view of methods, the radical leftist and the fascist reactionary may look alike because both advocate militant and revolutionary action, from the philosophical point of view, they are indeed opposite. At the intellectual and philosophical level, they appeal generally to individuals of different backgrounds and temperaments. The radical leftist must be able to make rational abstractions, because if he is to discard the basic premises of the prevailing system he should conceptualize what is to come. Thus, he needs a broad vision, some degree of education and sophistication of analysis --in short, a more ideological approach. In that sense he is an adventurer, open to a future experiment which he considers better than what is. However, the radical leftist, if he wants to succeed in revolutionizing the social complex, cannot only philosophize but has to appeal to the masses, and in doing so has to present concrete goals, making them understandable for the common man. Depending on the level of education of the masses, the concretion of the ideology will take different forms. At a higher level of education and sophistication, the radical may present the case of social justice and basic arguments about welfare and proper use of national industrial resources. At a lower level he has to promise down-to-earth advantages. Lenin offered the Russian peasants bread, peace (because war with the Germans was devastating their homes and causing famine) and land. He did not harangue them on the Marxian theory of surplus-value.
The extreme rightist may have an easier job presenting his values to the masses because he preaches a return to the beliefs and myths from which the prevailing normative practices have deviated. Beliefs and myths, as we saw in Chapter Five, appeal to the affectional dimensions. At the same time, they are more familiar and less complicated than abstract and rational ideologies. By their affectional dimension and the familiarity of their abstract premises, the doctrines of the extreme rightist may have potentials of appeal to different strata of the society. But the extremist on the right (the fascist), if he wants to materialize his revolution, like the radical on the left, cannot remain within the abstractions of myths and beliefs. He must also offer concrete objectives to his audience. Again depending on the level of education and sophistication of the masses, he may have to offer law and order or a revival of national virtues and unity to the middle and upper classes, and bread and jobs to the lower classes--as did Hitler and Mussolini.
For the radical or fascist movements to succeed, a number of variables must concord. If the radicals or the fascists are to get the support of the masses once they start their revolution, and if the masses are to be receptive to revolutionary promises for social justice, law and order, or bread, land and jobs, the masses must have reached the point of longing for these things. Or, if the masses are not ready for militancy, the social structure must have reached a degree of underintegration to permit the extremist movement to take over and maintain its power by force. In any event, if an extremist doctrine is to pass the stage of diatribe and turn into a movement, it should be composed not only of the doctrinaire, but also of the indoctrinated.
While the terms "radical" and "fascist" are more or less identified with certain contemporary movements with totalitarian inclinations (like the Communists and Socialists for the radicals, or the National Socialists and Falange for the reactionaries), their basic connotations can be applied within any historical epoch. Thus, for example, the American revolutionaries of the 1770's were radicals in that they were attacking the very roots of the political association of the colonies with the King and the Crown of Great Britain. Or the Monarchists during the French Revolution were reactionaries because they wanted to revert to the Ancien Régime.
For the sake of comparison of the different brands of extremism, we have developed our analysis beyond the individual attitudes and into the social goals, impacts and methods of the radical left and reactionary right. In doing so we have already ventured into a treatment of the material examined in this chapter in the light of the theme which we will pick up in the next. Indeed, the revolt of given individuals against the prevailing norms does not necessarily imply the collapse of the system, nor does it always rally supporters. The rebellious act may have bigger or smaller, long- or short-term impacts. Not all passionate calls for revolt bear such fruit as Patrick Henry's "Give me liberty or give me death," in 1775. It took some forty years for Rousseau's Discours sur l'inégalite (1754) to shake the foundations of the system it criticized.
The social flux has a direction, so to speak, determined in different degrees by and for its components and reflecting general patterns among them, yet it does not necessarily correspond to their particular personalities and rationales. In a simple analogy and limited time context, it is like a ship on the high seas sailing a given course. Looking at it from above, we may see many people on it moving in different directions. They may be sailors going about their various tasks, helping to steer the ship on its course. Or they may be passengers on deck, enjoying or submitting to the ship's motion. If the travelers wanted to change the direction of the ship, they could not do so simply by walking in the direction counter to the ship's course. Once they reached the rails, if they wanted to continue their opposite direction, they would have to jump into the sea. This also holds true for those who, by running forward, might hope to make the ship go faster. The only effective way to change the course of the ship is either to influence those who hold the helm or to take it over. Of course, if those in favor of change could influence the holders of the helm by threatening to jump overboard, they might make certain movements to pressure the helmsmen. In this case their movements would have validity because they would be based not on the absurd belief that their physical motions could change the course of the ship, but on the assumption that those in control might feel a responsibility for them and give in to their views. The alternative, of course, is that they might also be thrown overboard or into the brig by the ship's authorities.
A ship on the high seas, however, is a weak metaphor for the social flux. The social flux is a continuum including not only the ship but also its route and its interaction with the waves, the wind and other continua, currents and environmental conditions. Let us take a glimpse at this total picture, and start the next chapter by looking at what in the metaphor envelops the ship as it floats: the total environment in which the social flux flows.
* * *
At this stage, before we proceed to the next chapter, we must clarify one crucial point of terminology. It concerns the use of the term "flux," which the reader will encounter more frequently as we proceed with our study. I must confess that when I was choosing a title for this book I debated between the "The Socio-Political Complex" and "The Socio-Political Flux." I finally chose "complex" because its contradistinction with "system" was more obvious (see the Preface). But the "complex" without the "flux" gets us nowhere. Flux provides the complex with a temporal dimension, while complex gives plasticity to flux. Without exaggerating the parallel, complex and flux reflect the two propositions of Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. The examination of a socio-political complex in its statics can give us a graphic presentation but may make us lose sight of its evolutionary process, while following the flux--the evolutionary process of which a complex is a segment-may handicap the understanding of particular complex structures. It is consciousness of the two that can give us a conceptual intuition of their relativity and a total understanding of the socio-political phenomena in time and space.
 Hegel sees Caesar and Napoleon as individuals who, by their nonconformity, made it possible for mankind to advance. Erik Erikson portrays another one, Luther, who in turn gives us a further list of men who, by the will of God, were not bound to conformity. Luther includes both Biblical and non-Biblical figures, such as Samson, David, Cyrus, Themistocles, Alexander and Augustus. In more recent times, making a long list short, let us mention Lenin, Gandhi "Che" Guevara, Fidel Castro and Martin Luther King. See notably Hegel's Philosophy of History; Erik Erikson, Young Man Luther (New York: Norton, 1958); and Luther, "Psalm 101," American Edition of Luther's Works, ed. Jaroslav Pelikan and Helmut T. Lehman (St. Louis: Concordia), XIII, 155 ff. For an illustrative essay on the act of revolt see Albert Camus, The Rebel (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1953).
 For a modern classic discussion of man's choice-making faculties, see Max Weber, The Methodology of the Social Sciences (Glencoe: Free Press, 1949).
 See, for example, Bronislaw Malinowski, The Sexual Life of Savages (New York: Harcourt, 1929), notably Ch. III.
 Ralph Linton recounts the story of the native of the Admiral Islands whom the group found insane, although by Western standards he would have been considered the sanest of his group. The group thought him insane because, when finding someone in danger, he would go to the rescue without first bargaining for a reward. Ralph Lipton, "Cultural and Personality Factors Affecting Economic Growth," in Bert F. Hoselitz, ed., The Progress of Underdeveloped Areas (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1952), p. 73.
 For a good collection of case studies on this subject, see Paul Bohannan and Fred Plog, eds., Beyond the Frontier: Social Process and Cultural Change (Garden City, N. Y.: Natural History Press, 1967).
 Toeffler, Future Shock
 Andrei D. Sakharov is the prominent Soviet physicist who has been critical of the suppression of freedoms by the Soviet government. Mores A. Medvedev is the Soviet biologist whose critical exposition of Soviet biological dogmatism up to the 1960's was suppressed in the U. S. S. R.
See, for example, Sakharov's Progress, Coexistence and Intellectual Freedom (New York: Norton, 1970); and Medvedev's The Rise and Fall of T. D. Lysenko.
 Carl Gustav Jung, Psychological Types, or The Psychology of Individuation, trans. H. Godwin Baynes, New York, Harcourt, 1926.
 The "F" in F-scale stands for Fascism. The test, developed after World War II, was designed to measure an individual's authoritarian and submissive tendencies. In the Thematic Apperception Test, the subject's personality type is studied on the basis of what he makes out of shapes, figures and pictures. The Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory measures the subject's character on the basis of his responses to some 550 statements.
 For attempts at the psychological classification of political types, see notably Theodore W. Adorno, Else Frenkel-Brunswik, Daniel J. Levinson and R. Nevitt Sanford, The Authoritarian Personality: Studies in Prejudice (New York: Harper & Row, 1950); and Hadley Cantril, The Psychology of Social Movements (London: Chapman and Hall, 1941).
 See notably Eysenck's classification of liberals and conservatives: H. J. Eysenck, The Psychology of Politics (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1954).
 Seymour M. Lipset, Political Man: The Social Bases of Politics (New York: Doubleday, 1960), pp. 101 ff. and 298 ff.
 See notably Huntington, "Conservatism as an Ideology."
 A good illustration of the evolution of social norms from adventurous patterns into conservative ones can be detected, for example, by comparing the early and later Vedas of the Aryan people who, as nomads, invaded India and settled down to become sedentary.
 Henry David Thoreau, Civil Disobedience (1849).
 For some parallel thoughts on this point, see J. Milton Yinger, "Counterculture and Subculture," American Sociological Review, 25:625-635 (1960).
 See notably C. A. Kiesler and S. B. Kiesler, Conformity (Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1969).
 According to Kant, in the interaction of your will and reason you should "act only on that maxim whereby you can at the same time will that it should become a universal law."
 For a different treatment of the problem, see Sartre's discussion of "bad faith" in his Being and Nothingness, Part I, Ch. 2.
 See, for example, Leon Festinger, A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance (Stanford: Stanford Univ. Press, 1957).
 For a similar dichotomy in a different context, see Kenneth E. Boulding, Conflict and Defense (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), p. 312. For a case study of the inconsistency between public morality and private behavior, see Charles K. Warriner, "The Nature and Functions of Official Morality," American Journal of Sociology, 64:165-168 (1958).
 K, G. Shaver, An Introduction to Attribution Processes (Cambridge, Mass.: Winthrop, 1975).
 Although our concept of Alter refers to the social ambience which is broader than interpersonal relations, studies on such relations are, of course, pertinent to our study. See, for example, Fritz Heider, The Psychology of Interpersonal Relations (New York: Wiley, 1958); E. E. Jones and R. E. Nisbett, The Actor and the Observer: Divergent Perceptions of the Causes of Behavior (Morristown, N. J.: General Learning Press, 1971); and R. E. Nisbett et al., "Behavior as seen by the Actor and as seen by the Observer," in Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 27:154-164 (1973).
 Berelson and Steiner, Human Behavior, p. 266. See also S. G. West et al., "Ubiquitous Watergate: An Attributional Analysis," Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 32:55-65 (1975).
 Compare this with Ralph Linton's story of the insane native of the Admiral Islands in the footnote on page 141. Ezra Pound, the American poet, who had sided with Fascist Italy during World War II, was indicted for treason in 1945 but was found to be of unsound mind and was committed to a hospital for the insane.
 The degree of youthful adventurism changes, of course, from culture to culture and according to patterns of socialization.
 See, for example, Peter Blos, The Adolescent Personality (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1941); Erik Erikson, Childhood and Society (New York: Norton, 1950, 2nd ed., 1963), notably Part Four; Erik Erikson, Youth: Change and Challenge (New York: Basic Books, 1963); Graham B. Blaine, Jr. and Charles C. McArthur, Emotional Problems of the Student (New York: AppletonCentury-Crofts, 1961); and L. E. Thomas, "Generational Discontinuity in Beliefs: An Exploration of the Generation Gap," Journal of Social Issues, 30:1-22 (1974).
 Compare this dimension of social behavior with Murray's need taxonomy: Henry A. Murray, Explorations in Personality (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1938). See also A. H. Maslow, Motivation and Personality (New York: Harper & Row, 1954), notably pp. 80-98. Note the distinction we have made by listing performance and achievement as socially motivated drives, as compared to the basic drives we discussed earlier in Ch. Two.
 See, for example, Richard Flacks, "The Liberated Generation: An Exploration of the Roots of Student Protest," Journal of Social Issues, July 1967, notably his third point, pp. 60-61.
 See Kate Millett, Sexual Politics (New York: Doubleday, 1969), notably Part I/Two on the Theory of Sexual Politics.
 For a historical discussion of the role of women, see Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex (New York: Knopf, 1953), notably Part II. For a sociobiological discussion see Edward O. Wilson, On Human Nature (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1978).
 For some arguments on the subject, see Germaine Greer, The Female Eunuch (London: MacGibbon and Kee, 1970); Norman Mailer, The Prisoner of Sex (New York: New American Library, 1971). See also de Beauvoir, The Second Sex and Millett, Sexual Politics.
 For critical views on the biological bases of racial stratification, see the series of articles in Ashley Montagu, ed., The Concept of Race (London: Collier-Macmillan, 1964).
 Daniel Katz and Kenneth Braly, "Racial Stereotypes of 100 College Students," Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology, 28:280-290 (1933).
 For a historical survey of race relations see, for example, Oliver C. Cox, Caste, Class and Race: A Study in Social Dynamics (New York: Doubleday, 1948), notably Part III, where he points out that race was not always important for social stratification.
 See notably Hanna Arendt, "Race-Thinking Before Racism," The Review of Politics, 6:36-73 (1944). For biological and psychological discussions of race, see L. C. Dunn, Race and Biology (Paris: UNESCO, 1958); Otto Klineberg, Race Differences (New York: Harper & Row, 1935); Otto Klineberg, "Racial Psychology," in Barron, ed., American Minorities, pp. 41-52; and Myrdal, The American Dilemma.
 See notably Lewis M. Terman and Maud A. Merrill, Measuring Intelligence (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1937); Lewis M. Terman and M. H. Oden, The Gifted Child Grows Up (Stanford: Stanford Univ. Press, 1947); also Lee J. Cronbach, Essentials of Psychological Testing, 2nd ed. (New York: Harper & Row, 1960).
 See N. J. Block and Gerald Dworkin, eds., The IQ Controversy (New York: Pantheon, 1976).
 Empirical studies have shown, for example, that higher intelligence quotients (IQ) are more likely to be reached by those getting into higher education (Cronbach, Psychological Testing, p. 172).
 Alexander Gella, ed., The Intelligentsia and Intellectuals: Theory, Method and Case Study (Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1976).
 Getzels and Jackson use the term "adventurer" here to denote explorers. Jacob W. Getzels and Philip W. Jackson, Creativity and Intelligence: Explorations with Gifted Students (New York: Wiley, 1962), p. 57.
 Lipset, Political Man, pp. 319 ff.
 See, for example, Richard Hofstadter, Anti-Intellectualism in American Life (New York: Knopf, 1963).
 See, for example, "The Act to Prevent All Persons from Teaching Slaves to Read and Write, the Use of Figures Excepted," passed by the General Assembly of the State of North Carolina at their session of 1830-1831, recorded in Leslie H. Fishel, Jr. and Benjamin Quarles, eds., The Negro American: A Documentary History (Glenview, I11.: Scott, Foresman, 1967), p. 115.
 For a comparative study of different patterns of social change and class interaction see Barrington Moore, Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy (Boston: Beacon, 1966).
 See notably Reinhard Bendix and Seymour M. Lipset, Class, Status and Power, 2nd ed. (New York: Free Press, 1966).
 See, for example, W. Lloyd Warner, "The Study of Social Stratification," in-Joseph B. Gittler, ed., Review of Sociology: Analysis of a Decade (New York: Wiley, 1957), p. 245.
 For example, Lipset and Bendix found that, contrary to the popular impression that the early industrial development in the United States offered great opportunities for upward mobility, actually not more than 10 to 20 per cent of successful businessmen came from lower class families.
Seymour M. Lipset and Reinhard Bendix, Social Mobility in Industrial Society (Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1959), pp. 127-128.
 See Lipset and Bend ix, Social Mobility, pp. 19 et seq.
 For an early observation of this movement, see Don Calhoun et al., eds., An Introduction to Social Science (Chicago: Lippincott, 1961), where Russell Lynes' article, "High-Brow, Low-Brow, Middle-Brow," on the intellectual sophistication of the upper classes, is recorded (Bk. I, pp. 316-318). The article originally appeared in Harper's Magazine, February 1949, pp. 19-28.
 Robert Lane, Political Ideology (New York: Free Press, 1967), pp. 65-67.
 However, the evolution of race relations has been very rapid in the past 20 years when one compares, for example, studies reflecting the color-caste system in the 1940's with the social movements of the 60's and 70's towards racial desegregation and integration--a point which may indicate a dynamic transclass mobility in the U. S. A. For earlier race studies, see notably W. Lloyd Warner, "American Caste and Class," American Journal of Sociology, 42:234-237 (1936); Myrdal, An American Dilemma; and Gordon W. Allport, The Nature of Prejudice (Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday, 1958).
 Data suggest that transclass mobility comparable to that of the United States has taken place in Western Europe and Japan. See, for example, Lipset and Bendix, Social Mobility, pp. 19-21.
 Even in the United States, studies of slow-moving communities have shown the emergence of "traditional" social stratifications with "old families" and an established middle class. (See, for example, Robert S. Lynd and Helen M. Lynd, Middletown: A Study in Contemporary American Culture (New York: Harcourt, 1929); and their Middletowm in Transition (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1937); and Allison Davit, Burleigh Gardner and Mary R. Gardner, Deep South (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1941).) Compared to traditional patterns of the old world, of course, these have had much more limited and shorter impact on the American culture as a whole.
 W, Lloyd Warner, Marchia Meeker and Kenneth Eells, Social Class in America (Chicago: Science Research Associates, 1949), notably the part entitled "The American Dream and Social Class."
 Duverger, The Study of Politics, p. 141.
 For a Marxist treatment of the evolution of class consciousness, see Georg Lukacs, History and Class Consciousness (Cambridge, Mass.: M.I.T. Press, 1971).
 The records of Chinese traditional Confucian Civil Service Examinations show, for example, that a high proportion of those who were admitted to the high offices of government were graduates who had no family background of civil service. See notably E. A. Kracke, Jr., "Family vs. Merit in Chinese Civil Service Examinations During the Empire," Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies, 10:103105, 108-123 (1947); and William J. Goode, World Revolution and Family Patterns (New York: Free Press, 1963), where we read: "A large proportion (from one-third to three-quarters) of the men of considerable position in any one generation [in various Chinese dynasties from Tang to Ching] were 'new men'; that is, they did not come from an upper-class background" (p. 18).
 Samuel P. Huntington and Joan M. Nelson, No Easy Choice (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1976).
 Karl Marx, Wage-Labor and Capital (New York: International Publishers, 1933), p. 33.
 Quoted in Berelson and Steiner, Human Behavior, p. 617.
 For an exposition of semantics theory, see S. I. Hayakawa, Language in Thought and Action (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1941, 2nd ed., 1964); and Donald E. Hayden and E, Paul Alworth, eds., Classics in Semantics (New York: Philosophical Library, 1965); therein see notably the article by Anatol Rapoport, "What Is Semantics?", pp. 337-354, for an excellent review of the semantics school. We are not going to become involved here in a theoretical discussion of that school, but will try to draw inspiration from it in order to understand social semantics.
 Kenneth J. Arrow, "Values and Collective Decision-Making," in Laslett and Runciman, eds., Philosophy, Politics and Society, p. 222. The whole article is pertinent to our discussion here.
 On persuasion and its variations, see Carl I. Hovland et al., The Order of Presentation in Persuasion (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1957); Carl I. Hovland et al., Communication and Persuasion (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1953); and Carl I. Hovland and Irving L. Janis, eds., Personality and Persuasibility (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1959). On the question of adjustibility of the conformer see, for example, Giuseppe DiPalma and Herbert McClosky, "Personality and Conformity: The Learning of Political Attitude," APSR, 64:1054-1073 (1970).
 For experimental research in this field, see notably Muzafer Sharif, "The Formation of a Norm in a Group Situation," in his The Psychology of Social Norms (New York: Harper & Row, 1936); Solomon E. Asch, "Studies of Independence and Conformity: A Minority of One Against a Unanimous Majority," Psychological Monographs, 70, 9 (1956); and William J. McGuire, "Personality and Susceptibility to Social Influence," in E. F. Borgatta and W. W. Lambert, eds., Handbook of Personality Theory and Research (Chicago: Rand McNally, 1968), pp. 1130-1187.
 See P. H. Partridge, Consent and Consensus (London: Pall Mall, 1971).
 Precedent and stare decisis are vivid manifestations of that continuity in the common law system. In the words of Cardozo: "He [the judgel is not to innovate at pleasure ....He is to draw his inspiration from consecrated principles ....He is to exercise a discretion informed by tradition, methodized by analogy, disciplined by system, and subordinated to 'the primordial necessity of order in the social life."' Benjamin N. Cardozo, The Nature of the Judicial Process (New Haven: Yale Univ. Press, 1921, 1966), p. 141.
 Oliver Wendell Holmes, "The Path of the Law," Harvard Law Review, 10:457478, notably p. 459 (1897).
 On the concept of the law's efficacy, see Kelsen, General Theory of Law and State.
 Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America (1835-1840), I, 13. For a more recent discussion of the topic see, for example, Alan Valentine, The Age of Conformity (Chicago: Regnery, 1954); and Walter Lippmann, Essays in the Public Philosophy (Boston: Little, Brown, 1955).
 See, for example, Hanna Pitkin, "Obligation and Consent-II," APSR, 60:3952 (1966). See also Plato's Crito and Apology; and Thoreau's Civil Disobedience.
 See Hugo Bedau, "On Civil Disobedience," Journal of Philosophy, 58:653665 (1961).
 Howard Zinn, Disobedience and Democracy (New York: Random House, 1968), p. 39.
 For conflicting views on the qualification of civil disobedience see Zinn, Disobedience and Democracy; and Abe Fortes, Concerning Dissent and Civil Disobedience (New York: New American Library, 1968).
 For further discussion of civil disobedience, see notably Bertrand Russel, "Civil Disobedience," New Statesman, 17 Feb. 1961, pp. 245-246; David Spitz, "Democracy and the Problem of Civil Disobedience," APSR, 48:386-403 (1954); Harrop A. Freeman et al., Civil Disobedience (Santa Barbara: Center for the Study of Democratic Institutions, 1966); Donald W. Hanson and Robert B. Fowler, eds., Obligation and Dissent: An Introduction to Politics (Boston: Little, Brown, 1971), notably Part III; and Curtis Crawford, Civil Disobedience (New York: Crowell, 1973).
 See, for example, No K. Feierabend et al., Anger, Violence and Politics
(Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice Hall, 1972).
 See notably Mitchell Cohen and Dennis Hale, eds., The New Student Left: An Anthology (Boston: Beacon, 1966); Herve Bourges, The French Student Revolt: The Leaders Speak (New York: Hill & Wang, 1968); Daniel Cohn-Bendit and Gabriel Cohn-Bendit, Obsolete Communism: The Left-Wing Alternative (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1968); Kenneth Keniston, Young Radicals (New York: Harcourt, 1968); Herbert Marcuse, One Dimensional Man (Boston: Beacon, 1964).
 See our discussion of Fascism in Chapter Four. Fascism as a term is derived from fasces, the Latin word which referred to the bundle of rods, with an ax bound up in the middle of them, carried in front of the magistrates of the Roman Empire as the sign of rank and dignity and their prerogatives to punish wrongdoers.
 For a discussion of this phenomenon within the American context, see notably the articles in Daniel Bell, ed., The New American Right (New York: Criterion, 1955); Daniel Bell, The Radical Right (New York: Doubleday, 1963); Richard Hofstadter, The Paranoid Style in American Politics (New York: Knopf, 1965); Arnold Forster and Benjamin R. Epstein, Danger on the Right (New York: Random House, 1964); George Thayer, The Farther Shores of Politics (New York: Simon & Schuster, 1967); Robert A. Rosenstone, Protest from the Right (Beverly Hills: Glencoe, 1968); and Seymour Martin Lipset and Earl Raab, The Politics of Unreason: Right Wing Extremism in America, 1790-1970 (New York: Harper and Row, 1970).
 For an interesting discussion of left-wing and right-wing value premises and individual attitudes, see Charles Hampden-Turner and Phillip Whitten, "Morals Left and Right," Psychology Today, April 1971, pp. 39-43, 74, 76. Kohlberg's Classification of Moral Judgments into Levels and Stages of Development, which has been used as a basis for analysis in the above article, is an original attempt at a psychological understanding of the underlying factors for conformity and nonconformity: Lawrence Kohlberg, "Moral and Religious Education and the Public Schools: A Developmental View," in Theodore R. Sizer, ed., Religion and Public Education (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1967).
 See notably Gabriel Almond's distinction between the "exoteric" (mass consumption) and "esoteric" (complex abstraction) doctrines of the Communist Party in his Appeals of Communism (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1954), pp. 5-6 and 244.