THE sociologists, like the historians, of the modern schools no longer accept the causal in sociology or history. It is impossible to determine a direct and univocal causality. Phenomena determine each other mutually, we can describe interactions, establish correlations, analyze systems, make a phenomenon the factor of a whole, uncover differential structures. But it is impossible to say that one fact induces another, etc.
We generally accept the idea of the factor. Nevertheless, the Marxist sociologists reject that notion, viewing it as characteristic of bourgeois agnosticism. They feel that so long as we maintain reciprocal interactions, a sociological analysis requires the schema of determining and determined phenomena (with the latter, incidentally, able to become determinants in their turn).
It seems to me that the best method would be to take both attitudes into account. On the one hand, it is true that we can hardly speak of causality in sociology. Contrary to the exact sciences, we cannot isolate a phenomenon, examine it in a pure state, experiment, and repeat the exact conditions of the experiment. But obviously, if we never establish a relationship between the determinant and the determined, we will be limited to infinite and indefinite descriptions that are meaningless and hence incapable of explaining the "how" (without even claiming to seek an answer to the "why").
On the other hand, if we go by the Marxist method, we have a pattern" prior to any analysis; we know in advance what is the determinant and what the determined. The explanatory schema has been established once and for all (even if rendered flexible, as Plekhanov once did and Althusser is now doing). But for that very reason, we cannot be certain of grasping new structures, new types
of relationships that differ from those analyzed by Marx. Hence, I believe that we have to try both to consider phenomena in their newness, their singularity, and to find the determining relationships between them by preserving the notion of the factor, which is the only acceptable notion.
If I study a sociological phenomenon in present-day Western society, if I analyze its structure, its relations to other structures, as accurately as possible, I can obviously discover a large number of determining factors. If, for instance, I peruse the culture of juvenile gangs, I am obliged to consider the home background, the moral development, the habitat, the consumption of multiple goods and advertising, the distractions, the sexual precociousness, etc. All these factors are involved and form the general context for juvenile gangs. It is almost impossible to pinpoint one determining factor among them or even isolate two or three. It is ultimately their combination that offers a more or less approximate explanation.
Let me instead consider one sociological phenomenon in its evolution instead of taking it at a given moment as a static datum. Among all the factors making up its context, I can perceive those that have evolved beforehand and whose change has come first. And I can prudently try to establish a correlation between those two successive changes. I will thus zero in a bit on the question while bearing in mind that there is always plenty of uncertainty, for it is very hard to analyze the context fully. The study of an evolving phenomenon can bring out the factor, which the static analysis has not revealed.
Let us scrutinize what can be called a "problem," i.e., a sociological phenomenon that, because of its development, arouses intense positive or negative responses from individuals, creating difficulties in adjustment and anxieties. These problems may be more or less vast, relatively individual (the automation of a workshop as a problem for the workers), or universal (the bureaucratization of society). We can see that the determining factors are less numerous and comparatively easier to isolate in a "problem" than in a simple, neutral phenomenon. We are actually bringing in the dimension of
"how the phenomenon is experienced.” This seems to complicate matters because we are considering a new kind of factor, a nonobjective one. In reality, however, that dimension makes our approach easier, for the knowledge of the opinion seems relatively assured. The involvement of the
"experience" factor gives the others a certain coefficience of importance, which allows us to classify them.
If, now, instead of considering one phenomenon or problem, I examine several belonging to the same overall society, what will happen? To the extent that they actually belong to one and the same society, they are bound to be in relation to one another. Of course, each is situated within a certain constellation of factors. But if I view these phenomena together, I notice that certain factors are peculiar to that constellation and do not bear upon the neighboring problems. In contrast, other factors are common to several phenomena or problems. Needless to say, the wider the scope of my research–i.e., the more phenomena and problems that I investigate in an overall given society–the further the number of factors common to them all will diminish.
But we must then ask a twofold question. Are the factors that I preserve determinant in each case? Are not the determinant factors that I examine so general as to become meaningless? (For instance, one can certainly explain all present-day sociological phenomena by population growth, but this is too general.) Do not those determinant factors come into play only as "a remote cause," to the second or third degree, thereby no longer having an explanatory character?
We therefore must be keenly attentive to the closeness of the relationship and proceed to the critique of the factor being investigated.
There is obviously great danger in attempting to boil the multiple phenomena or problems of a whole society down to a single determinant factor. And that is the difficulty experienced by Marx's followers. Nevertheless, in an ensemble of factors that are taken as explanatory, it is not impossible to discern one that is more effective, more constraining. If, in the evolution of several phenomena, if, in the givens of several problems, we keep finding that same element, we have to accept it as determinant (and perhaps even assign it a coefficient of power that does not appear at first sight). If this factor allows us to take into account a large number of data in the society being examined, and if it permits us to understand the correlations and differential structures of those data, then we have to admit that this factor has a "strategic" place and an exceptional role. We thus have the two criteria that allow us to evaluate the importance of a factor.
It is obvious that in an entire society we cannot cleave to the
"punctiform" fixation of a huge number of data. We must try to account for their existence and trace their relationships. If one factor allows us to account for a larger number of ascertained data, it is bound to be more important and has to be taken as more
determinant than another factor accounting for only a small number of data.
The same holds for a factor that lets us explain a very large number of relationships. But this presumes our regarding the social data as data of relation and attempting to consider the large number of possible relations, which is not always the case.
It goes without saying, incidentally, that such work entails the great danger of "forcing" data. And that too is something we often note in the Marxist sociologists. The instant we think we have a factor determining a very large number of data and relations, we are tempted to ignore those data that are contrary or on which our factor does not act. Even more, we are tempted to modify the data in order to insert them into our explanatory schema. Hence, the first rule is to admit that once a datum has been defined in itself, it must not be altered by any endeavor to relate it to what has been established as the determining factor of other phenomena.
We will conclude these reflections on method with a final remark. If we look at the (sociologically) major problems of our whole society (Western/American, 1970) we will notice that most of them are posed in such a way that they appear to be made up of mutually contradictory givens. It is this truly perplexing feature that generally allows contradictory positions to be taken on them. In French or American society, we find, for instance, serious authors claiming that citizens are being depoliticized, and other, no less precise authors claiming that citizens are being politicized. In reality, the problem of the relationship between the citizen and the ruling power must be posed in terms of "politicizing/depoliticizing.” It is not an "either/or," but a complex of phenomena, which are apparently contradictory although correlative.
A further example. In our Western society, a few sociologists speak of the "death of ideologies," while others show that ideology has a growing place and that everything is done and experienced in terms of ideologies.
Here, once again, the problem must be posed as a complex of "the correlative death and growth of ideologies."
And of course, the more inclusive the problem, the more important the contradictory or ambivalent character of the phenomenon. The point is not to seek multiple, diverse, and inverse causes for each aspect. The point is not to say, on the one side, there is a depoliticization affecting such and such an area and having such and such a cause; and on the other side, there is a politicization affecting some other area and having some other causes. This splitting of the phenomenon destroys its specificity. The important thing is to investigate whether there is a factor determining the
inner contradiction of the phenomenon. If we find such a factor explaining the two contrary givens of one and the same phenomenon, then chances are that this factor is truly determinant, and we will also safeguard the unity, the specificity, and the intelligibility of the phenomenon under observation.
These few explanations were indispensable. It was actually by applying this method that I came to conclude that in the sociopolitical problems of Western society as a whole, the main if not single determinant factor is the technological system. This wording will instantly provoke contradictions. Yet it is a perfectly evident and admitted truth to say that "’research’ (obviously what is known as "research and development") is the youth and future of societies. A country that abandons research . . . will be stricken with a mortal sickness. . . . Limiting research makes it patent that the very brain of society is sick, that its hope for survival is stricken" (Chombart de Lauwe). If research is so important, it is because it leads to technology and not to pure intellectual satisfaction. These current formulas point out that technology is the determinant factor in our society. I will examine a few problems of our society to justify my statement.
The demonstration could be regarded as complete only if I presented this work for all major problems totted up in our society. But that is obviously impossible.2
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The problem of Statism is assuredly a major and characteristic phenomenon in our society. But it presents a double and apparently contradictory aspect. On the one side, we are dealing with a growth of the state; on the other side, with a decrease of the political function. The growth of the state can be analyzed as a growth of function, organism, and concentration.
It is easy to see how greatly the functions and competencies of a modern state keep increasing nonstop. It does not suffice to quote the formula about our passing from the liberal state of the nineteenth century to the welfare state of the twentieth century. Actually, during the past half century, the state has taken over education, welfare, economic life, transportation, technological growth, scientific research, artistic development, health, and population. And it is now moving toward a function of sociological structuring (national development) and psychological structuring (public relations). This simple enumeration points out that the
present-day state has nothing in common with the state of the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries. The organism of the state has augmented along with its functions and areas of intervention. The point, however, is not so much the number or importance of its services as their complexity. In a word, each activity has become specialized, the connections between the parts of the organism are getting finer and finer, more and more numerous, and often questionable. In this multiplicity of services, which are more and more fragmented, new coordination services have to be created. This leads to a kind of second-degree administration, charged with administering the primary administration.
At the same time, we are witnessing a centralization movement that is easily conceived. The more complex the body, the more the whole must be tied to one head. There is much debate about this centralizing. In reality, all the so-called decentralization efforts merely produce deconcentration, which actually intensifies the centralization. These three movements are all the more important to emphasize because they are taking place not only in traditionally centralized countries like France, but also in countries traditionally decentralized like the United States, and where the state was greatly distrusted. Yet, since 1936, the United States government has been increasing its jurisdiction and centralizing its powers.
It would seem that, as a result, the function of the state, the political function, has been growing at the same time. But, on the contrary, we are witnessing the diminishing importance of that function, despite certain appearances that remain traditional. This decrease can be observed on two levels: that of the citizen and that of the politician. The citizen, as an individual, is less and less capable of an opinion on the real problems a modern state has to cope with. He has fewer and fewer possibilities of expressing his opinion or truly affecting politics. Elections, those temporary expressions of opinion, and even referendums have little influence on the workings of politics. The citizen must, in any event, be incorporated in a vaster body–a party, trade union, etc.–which will act as a lobby, a pressure group, a representation of interests far more than opinions. And in these groups, the individual has very little weight vis-à-vis opinion leaders or specialists. But even more, we have to realize that the individual has practically no means of defense against or pressure upon what has become by far the most important part of government action, the administrative function in the widest sense. In reality, the citizen can do nothing about administrative decision. We can thus say that the more important
the state becomes, the less important the citizen (the theoretical bearer of political sovereignty).
Remarkably, the same is true of the traditional politician; the congressman, senator, even the government minister, have less and less real power. Modern analyses of decision-making show that, on the one hand, the politician's role in this process is greatly reduced, and that, on the other hand, the true "place of decision" is often not the minister's office or the National Assembly. The famous distinction between "major orientations" and
"current decisions or their application" assigns the former to politics and politicians and the latter to administrations. But that is a myth. The politician has less and less autonomy, if in no other way, then at least by being far more determined by earlier decisions when he makes a decision now. For example, in 1900, it was quite easy to reverse alliances. But in 1960, it is almost impossible to throw over an economic plan being carried out; and the plan that follows is inevitably conditioned by the previous one. The margin of political option is indeed very narrow.
I will not dwell on the politician's lack of competence: that is too facile an argument. But the enormity, the complexity of issues make the politician highly dependent on research departments, on experts who assemble dossiers. And once the prepared decision has been submitted by the politician, it escapes him, and the agencies take care of implementing it.
And we know that today everything depends on implementation. The politician has a façade role, he provides the showy front; and he also assumes responsibility for a matter of which he has only very shallow knowledge.3
What is the source of this double phenomenon? I believe that the reason for the system is technological growth. On the one hand, if the state is expanding its jurisdiction, then this is not the result of doctrines (interventionist, socialist, etc.), but rather of a kind of necessity deriving from technology itself. All areas of life are becoming more and more technicized.
In proportion, actions are becoming more complex, more intervolved (precisely because of extreme specialization), and more efficient. This means that their effects are vaster and more remote while their realization implies the use of costlier apparatuses and a sort of mobilization of all forces.
In all the technicized activities, a programming is now necessary. And this programming must have a national, often an international, framework.
Hence, only the state organism is able to carry out this coordinating and programming, just as it alone is capable of mobilizing all the resources of a nation to apply one or
several technologies; just as it alone is in a position to measure, and take upon itself, the long-term effects of such a technology. We could go into detail here and cite countless examples to show that in modern society it is always because of technology that the jurisdiction of the state keeps expanding.
As for the growth of the state organism, one may be tempted to view it as a simple consequence of the increased jurisdiction, and to say: "The more things the state has to do, the more services it has to create and the more functionaries it has to appoint.” Naturally, that is an exact aspect of the problem, but it is only an aspect. Here too, there is a direct influence of technology on the growth and complexity of the state organism. We can already note an influence whose ultimate consequences we do not yet know:
the use of all kinds of electronic machines in office work. In any case, this use is bound to transform bureaucratic structures, bringing a new analysis of tasks and hence a new legal analysis of administrative functions. But the thing that changes the state organism even more is the use of organization technologies. Here we are dealing with an imperative of efficiency that is, of course, bound to the growth of functions. We can no longer work with a bureaucracy comparable to the one that Courteline made fun of. A new bureaucracy is emerging, more rigorous, more exact, but also less picturesque and less "human.” These two movements are taking place together, and if there is, say, an effort towards deconcentration, the reasons
the use of all kinds of electronic machines in office work. In any case, this use is bound to transform bureaucratic structures, bringing a new analysis of tasks and hence a new legal analysis of administrative functions. But the thing that changes the state organism even more is the use of organization technologies. Here we are dealing with an imperative of efficiency that is, of course, bound to the growth of functions. We can no longer work with a bureaucracy comparable to the one that Courteline made fun of. A new bureaucracy is emerging, more rigorous, more exact, but also less picturesque and less "human.” These two movements are taking place together, and if there is, say, an effort towards deconcentration, the reasons