sociology do not conflict, but harmonize. There is no real opposition
between them, rightly understood. Each emphasizes correctly one phase
of the relation between sociology and the special social sciences.
Sociology is both an inclusive, a co-ordinating, and a fundamental
science. In the first place, sociology is a general science, having as
its subject-matter social phenomena of all kinds. Therefore it
comprehends all the sciences dealing with special kinds of social
phenomena. These particular sciences are, in the nature of things,
closely related to each other. They must possess in common certain
laws and principles. These it is the task of sociology to formulate;
for as the inclusive social science it should exhibit the mutual
relations of the included social sciences. Thus sociology becomes a
co-ordinating as well as an inclusive science. Furthermore, the laws
and principles of the special social sciences, which sociology, as the
co-ordinating science, undertakes to formulate, are necessarily
fundamental. And in this respect sociology may be regarded as the
fundamental social science. The three rival conceptions of sociology
must be combined in the correct view. As Mr. Arthur Fairbanks remarks
in his admirable Introduction to Sociology: "Sociology may embrace all
the sciences dealing with society, but it does not destroy the partial
independence of any of these branches. It includes economics,
politics, and the like, but, instead of supplanting them, its sphere
is to lay the foundation of these particular social sciences."
It appears, then, that the disagreement among the leaders of
sociological thought regarding the scope of their "science" is more
apparent than real. The same may be said regarding the contention
about method. The debate here is over the question whether deduction
or induction is the proper method of investigation in the social
sciences. One party holds that the only legitimate method is the
abstract-deductive, the investigator arriving at his conclusions by
reasoning _a priori_ from certain fundamental assumptions regarding
the nature of man in general. What these thinkers aim at is a
subjective interpretation of social phenomena in terms of human
motives, principles, and ideals. Another party maintains that the only
fruitful method is the concrete-inductive, the investigator reaching
his conclusions by observing the facts of social life and reasoning
from them to general laws and principles. The aim here is to give an
objective interpretation of society in terms of race, environment, and
historical conditions. The controversy has been especially violent
among the economists. The English classical school of political
economy made exclusive use of the deductive method; economic laws were
deduced from the fundamental postulate of human selfishness. The
German historical school employed the inductive method; economic laws
were inferred from a study of the concrete facts of industrial life.
This academic discussion over method is tiresome and futile. Neither
method will ever drive the other from the field. The exclusive
employment of either deduction or induction will yield only half
results in the social sciences. The two methods effectually supplement
each other and should be used together. They are not rivals, but
allies. Induction without deduction is blind; deduction without
induction untrustworthy. This fact is recognized by recent writers on
sociology. So Professor Giddings remarks that "history without
deductive illumination is chaos. Deduction without verification is
undoubtedly the very light that never was on sea or land!"
The principal method in the social sciences must undoubtedly be the
inductive. The nature of the subject-matter determines this. The
social sciences deal with the facts of social structure and growth.
The task of the investigator is the explanation of these facts. He has
first, then, to observe and compare the facts. But his observation
must be guided and his conclusions verified by deduction.
Concerning the purpose of sociology, as touching its method, there are
two conflicting opinions. But here again the seeming disagreement is
not absolutely irreconcilable. It is held by some that the purpose of
the sociologist should be merely the acquisition of knowledge, without
further thought of the practical use to which the results of his
researches might be put. He should aim to discover and formulate the
laws of social forces, not to propose ideals of social reform.
Sociology is a pure science and has no utilitarian end. By others it
is held that the purpose of the sociologist should be the regulation
of social forces in the interest of human progress. The object of
sociology is the betterment of society, the acceleration of social
evolution. It is an applied science and has a practical end.
Both these views are tenable. In fact, sociology, like all sciences,
has a double purpose. The primary purpose is to acquire knowledge; the
secondary purpose is to apply that knowledge to the attainment of
practical ends. This duality of purpose is clearly set forth by Mr.
Lester F. Ward in a recent essay.[32] "Sociology," he says, "has both
a pure and an applied stage." It "should be studied first for the sake
of information relating to the laws of human association and
co-operative action, and finally for the purpose of determining in
what ways and to what extent social phenomena may, with a knowledge of
their laws, be modified and directed toward social ideals."
[Footnote 32: Lester F. Ward. Purpose of Sociology. American
Journal of Sociology, November, 1896.]
Modern society is a complex of difficult problems. And this fact
furnishes a background of motive for the studies of the sociologist.
Not even the veriest stickler for pure science can deny the imperative
need of established knowledge of the laws of social activity. The
people perish for lack of wisdom. To enlighten the public mind on
vital social questions and thus to promote an intelligent direction of
social conduct toward rational ends is the high function of sociology.
This practical purpose, however, should be kept always secondary to
the pursuit of knowledge. "The knowledge is the important thing. The
action will then take care of itself."[33] The discussion of the
what-ought-to-be must wait on the investigation of the what-is. The
neglect of this caution has been responsible for much false doctrine
and foolish counsel. Sociologists have allowed their enthusiasm for
ideals to blind the eye and bias the judgment. Panacea hawkers of all
sorts have attempted to prescribe for social diseases, without making
any study of social structure and function. Communistic quackery has
masqueraded as sociological wisdom. The wild-cat sociology of the
present day is a result of the over-addiction to social reform which
besets students of society. It can not be too strongly emphasized that
the primary object of the sociologist is the impartial investigation
of facts. The man who forgets this becomes dangerous. He is liable to
run amuck.
[Footnote 33: Ward. Ibidem.]
The differences of opinion as to the scope, method, and purpose of
sociology have been found upon examination to be less serious than
they at first sight appeared. But in regard to the fundamental
principles of sociology, the confusion is hopeless. The student will
search in vain in the systematic treatises on sociology for any
definite body of established doctrine which he can accept as the
ground-principles of the science. He finds only an unmanageable mass
of conflicting theories and opinions. Each treatise contains an
exposition of what the author is pleased to label the Principles of
Sociology. But the "principles" are not the same in any two treatises;
and by no process of analysis and synthesis can they be brought into
harmony. They are fundamentally contradictory. It is impossible, I
believe, to discover a single alleged ground-principle of sociology
that has commanded general assent.
Some of the recent writers on sociology have devoted themselves
particularly to the task of establishing one basal principle which may
be applied to the interpretation of all social phenomena. At least
half a dozen claims to the discovery of such a principle have been put
forward. Prof. Ludwig Gumplowicz finds the elementary social fact to
be conflict; Prof. Guillaume De Greef finds it to be contract; M.
Gabriel Tarde contends that the fundamental principle of society is
imitation; Prof. Emile Durkheim argues that it is "the coercion of the
individual mind by modes of action, thought, and feeling external to
itself." Professor Giddings criticises all these explanations of
society, as either too special or too general, and undertakes to
prove that "the original and elementary fact in society is the
consciousness of kind." This is the determining principle to which all
social phenomena are to be referred.[34] But Professor Giddings's
sociological postulate has been promptly rejected by his American
colleagues, Prof. Albion W. Small and Mr. Lester F. Ward. The former
speaks contemptuously of the consciousness of kind as a remote
metaphysical category, and declares that the whole system of sociology
based on the principle is "an impossible combination of
contradictions."[35] This opinion is approved by Ward, who riddles
Giddings's book with criticism, and complains of the author's
inability to handle principles correctly.[36]
[Footnote 34: See Giddings. Principles of Sociology, chap. i.]
[Footnote 35: In American Journal of Sociology, September, 1896.]
[Footnote 36: In Annals of the American Academy, July, 1896.]
It is hardly necessary to penetrate further into this debate over
first principles. The most exhaustive examination of the writings of
the leaders in sociological thought would fail to discover any
fundamental unity of opinion. The so-called principles of the science
are multiform. They represent merely the unsupported conclusions of
individual thinkers. If we except the barest commonplaces, no truths
have been established; no scientific laws have been agreed upon. The
content of the science of sociology, as expounded in treatises bearing
this name, varies with the particular bias of the writer. In fine,
there are systems of sociology galore, but there is hardly a
sociology.
Of the various systems of sociology that have been developed since the
new "science" was first outlined by Auguste Comte, that of Herbert
Spencer is undoubtedly the most coherent and self-consistent. But even
the genius of Mr. Spencer has been unequal to the task of working out
a body of firmly grounded principles which should furnish a basis for
the convergence of opinion on social questions. He has not succeeded
in giving permanent form and content to sociology. His work is
disparagingly criticised by other living sociologists. Small declares
that "Spencer's sociology ends precisely where sociology proper should
begin," and quotes approvingly De Greef's assertion that "Mr. Spencer
not only fails to show that there is a place for sociology, but his
own reasoning proves more than anything else that there is no social
science superior to biology."[37] Ward, while commending the logical
consistency of Mr. Spencer's work, pronounces him "unsystematic,
nonconstructive, and nonprogressive."[38]
[Footnote 37: See Giddings. Principles of Sociology, chap. i.]
[Footnote 38: Small and Vincent. Introduction to the Study of
Society, p. 46].
There is much justice in these criticisms of Mr. Spencer's system. His
sociology is almost entirely descriptive; and his description of
social phenomena has taken the form of an elaborate analogy between
society and the animal organism. The utility of this biological
analogy has rightly been called in question. The particular
resemblances traced by Mr. Spencer between a society and a living body
are these: both grow and increase in size; while they increase in size
they increase in structure; increase in structure is accompanied by
progressive differentiation of functions; and differentiation of
functions leads to mutual interdependence of the parts. Furthermore,
in the case both of a society and of a living body the lives of the
units continue for some time if the life of the aggregate is suddenly
arrested; while if the aggregate is not suddenly destroyed by violence
its life greatly exceeds in duration the lives of its units. Since,
therefore, the permanent relations among the parts of a society are
analogous to the permanent relations among the parts of an organism,
society is to be regarded as an organism.
Now the trouble with this clever analogy is that it breaks down
completely when the comparison is carried beyond a certain point. Mr.
Spencer himself notices some differences between the social body and
the animal body, but declares that they are not of such fundamental
character as to weaken the force of his analogy. One of these
differences, however, can not be so lightly dismissed. If we compare a
high type of animal organism with a high type of society, this
striking unlikeness is discovered. In the former there is but one
center of consciousness; in the latter there are many. "In the one,"
to quote Mr. Spencer's own words, "consciousness is concentrated in a
small part of the aggregate. In the other it is diffused throughout
the aggregate." The animal body has one brain, one center of thought,
feeling, and life; the social body has numberless such centers.
When we go back and compare the course of development in the two cases
the difference noted comes into even greater prominence. The evolution
of animal life is characterized by progressive centralization, the
evolution of social life by progressive decentralization. In the
lowest form of animal, the amoeba, there is no single center of life.
The life is in all the parts; reproduction takes place simply by
division. But with each successive advance above this lowest form
there is developed more and more definitely a single center of
consciousness. One part becomes distinctly differentiated as the sole
seat of life. If that part is destroyed, the organism dies. Thus,
"animal development has meant a concentration of the more important
nervous elements and a merging of their separate activity in the
common activity of a single consciousness."[39]
[Footnote 39: Fairbanks. Introduction to Sociology, p. 44.]
The law of progress is quite the reverse in social development. At a
primitive stage there is a marked subjection of the individual
elements of society to a central authority, whether that of the
patriarch, the tribal head, or the tribal assembly. The individual has
no economic, legal, or moral independence. But as society develops,
the control which the whole exerts over the parts through authority
and custom is gradually diminished. The individuality of the members
of the social body becomes more and more marked. Individual freedom
and responsibility are definitely recognized. Thus, the development of
society has meant "the development of individuality in each of its
members." It is a development of persons; the "social consciousness
exists only in the discrete social elements which have become
individual."[40]
[Footnote 40: Fairbanks. Ibidem.]
In a word, social evolution is accompanied by a growing
individualization of the component elements of society, whereas animal
development leads to ever-stronger concentration of the life of the
organism in a single part.
This difference between the physical organism and society is
fundamental and essential. It is far more striking than the
superficial likenesses ingeniously adduced by Mr. Spencer. His analogy
tends to obscure the real nature of social relations. Unless used with
cautious qualifications it "suggests false and one-sided views" and
thus hinders the progress of sociology. The biological analogy has, it
may be conceded, a certain value as a convenient way of describing
some of the aspects of social structure and growth. It may aid the
student to comprehend certain facts, but, if followed blindly, it will
lead him to overlook other facts of even greater importance.
The biological analogy has been carried to absurd lengths by some
writers. There is wearisome enumeration of social aggregates and
organs, and exhaustive description of the social nervous system. We
learn that the individual may be either a communicating cell or a
terminal cell, otherwise known as an end organ. The girl in the
central telephone office acts as a communicating cell when she
telephones to Mr. Smith a message from Mr. Brown. "But when, Mr. Smith
having asked her the exact time by the chronometer in the exchange,
she looks at the dial and reports her observation to him, she is
primarily a terminal cell or end organ."[41] The lookout man at sea,
on the other hand, is invariably an end organ. This is far-fetched and
fanciful. To clothe mere commonplaces in the borrowed rags and tags of
biological terminology is not social science, nor does it aid one to
get a correct conception of social reality.
[Footnote 41: Small and Vincent. Introduction to the Study of
Society, p. 218.]
The unsettled state of sociological thought which has been here set
forth is a natural result of the peculiar difficulties that stand in
the way of the social sciences. These have been described by Mr.
Spencer with great fullness of illustration.[42] They arise from three
sources--namely, (1) from the intrinsic nature of the facts dealt
with; (2) from the natures of the observers of these facts; and (3)
from the peculiar relation in which the observers stand toward the
facts observed.
[Footnote 42: Herbert Spencer. Study of Sociology, chaps. iv to
xii.]
1. In the first place the peculiar nature of social phenomena is such
as to render scientific observation difficult. They are not of a
directly perceptible kind like the phenomena which form the
subject-matter of the natural sciences. Quantitative measurement and
experiment are not possible. Social facts "have to be established by
putting together many details, no one of which is simple, and which
are dispersed, both in space and time, in ways that make them
difficult of access."
2. Again, to these objective difficulties are added the subjective
difficulties resulting from the intellectual and the emotional
limitations of the investigators. There is, very generally, a lack of
intellectual faculty sufficiently complex and plastic to comprehend
the involved and changing phenomena of society. The scientific
judgment is disturbed by a variety of emotional prejudices, which Mr.
Spencer classifies as the educational bias, the bias of patriotism,
the class bias, the political bias, and the theological bias.
3. And, finally, the peculiar position which the sociological observer
occupies with reference to the phenomena puts further obstacles in the
way of trustworthy observation. The sociologist has to study an
aggregate in which he is himself included. He is a member of society
and can not wholly free himself from the beliefs and sentiments
generated by this connection.
These peculiar difficulties which beset sociology have naturally
impeded the development of the department compared with other branches
of knowledge. They furnish adequate explanation of the unsettled
condition of sociological thought which has been described in this
paper.
In conclusion, it is hardly necessary to state that in the writer's
opinion sociology is not, at present, entitled to be called a science.
In order to establish the right of a body of knowledge to the title of
science, the claimants must be able to show that they have a
definitely bounded field of investigation, that they employ recognized
scientific methods, and that they have established certain truths of
unquestioned value. Sociology in its present state fails to meet these
conditions. Its province is not yet agreed upon, its methods have been
often unscientific, and its first principles are yet to be formulated.
It is not, therefore, a science.
"Sociology," says one of its critics, "no more demonstrates its claim
to existence as a science than astronomy would if we found some
astronomers insisting that the sun went around the earth and others
contending that the earth went around the sun."[43]
[Footnote 43: The Nation, vol. lx, p. 351. Review of Small and
Vincent's Introduction to the Study of Society.]
After all, the question whether sociology deserves to be called a
science or not is one of merely academic interest. It has received far
more attention than it really deserves. Nor will any amount of
discussion upon this point help to make sociology a science. "It is
safe to say," remarks the critic from whom we have just quoted, "that
no great scientific work was ever done by a man who was fretting over
the question whether he was a scientist or not. The work is the thing
and not what it is called. On the other hand, no name can dignify a
work which is petty and futile."
It is not by talking about it, but by working over it, that a body of
knowledge is developed into a science. And sociologists would do well
to heed the advice of Tarde, the French writer: "Instead of
discoursing upon the merits of this infant--sociology--which men have
had the art to baptize before its birth, let us succeed, if possible,
in bringing it forth."[44]
[Footnote 44: Quoted by Vincent in American Journal of Sociology,
January, 1896, p. 487.]
A FEATHERED PARASITE.
BY LEANDER S. KEYSER.
Nothing could more clearly prove that a common law runs through the
whole domain of Nature than the fact that in every division of her
realm there seems to be a class of parasites. In the vegetable world,
as is well known, there are various plants that depend wholly upon
other plants for the supply of their vital forces. And in the human
sphere there are parasites in a very real and literal sense--men and
women who rely upon the toil and thrift of others to sustain them in
worthless idleness.
In view of the almost universal character of this law it would be
strange if these peculiar forms of dependence did not appear in the
avian community. We do find such developments in that department of
creation. Across the waters there is one bird which has won an
unenviable reputation as a parasite, and that is the European cuckoo,
which relies almost wholly on the efforts of its more thrifty
neighbors to hatch and rear its young, and thereby perpetuate the
species. Strangely enough, our American cuckoos are not given to such
slovenly habits, but build their own nests and faithfully perform the
duties of nidification, as all respectable feathered folk should.
However, this parasitical habit breaks out, quite unexpectedly it must
be conceded, in another American family of birds which is entirely
distinct from the cuckoo group.
In America the cowbird, often called the cow bunting, is the only
member of the avian household that spirits its eggs into the nests of
other birds. The theory of evolution can do little toward accounting
for the anomaly, and even if it should venture upon some suggestions
it would still be just as difficult to explain the cause of the
evolution in this special group, while all other avian groups follow
the law of thrift and self-reliance.