Theories of Society

We’ve already encountered various conflicting points of view in course readings and
discussion, from disagreements among authors on how schools ought to be run, to
divergence among citizens on what the purpose of education ought to be in the first
place. I want to suggest that these differences of opinion often derive from differences
in the basic assumptions people make about society and how it works. One could, for
instance, run through the list of purposes of education that we generated at the first
class, and sort them into two or three groups, where each group shares its own set of
basic assumptions which differ from the assumptions underlying the other groups. I’m
going to call each set of basic assumptions about how society works a "theory of
society."

About theory
Now the first question I need to address is: why even talk about "theories"; what good
is having a theory of society, or a theory of anything, for that matter? Everyone knows
that theoretical knowledge, while perhaps interesting to some, isn’t terribly useful,
right? Isn’t "theoretical" knowledge the opposite of "practical" knowledge?

Well, I think that’s actually not true. One of my own professors in grad school went so
far as to say "there’s nothing so practical as a good theory." If theories are indeed so
useful, what do they do for us?

As another of my professors put it, theories are "educated guesses"—stories we make

up about how the world works, about why things happen—that help us make sense of
what we see around us. They provide a sensible framework for understanding the
information we’re constantly flooded with.

You can think of a theory as a basket, and information as the objects that go into the
basket. It’s hard to carry a bunch of small items that are loose, separate from one
another. And similarly, people are uncomfortable trying to hold lots of disconnected
details in mind; it’s hard to remember them when they have no obvious connection to
one another. But when they form a story, when they fit together into a larger structure
(when the items are all in a basket that you can carry as a single object), then it’s easy
to remember them all.

When you have a basket, not only can you carry things more easily, but you can also
carry more of them. So a theory, a coherent framework for organizing what we know
about the world, not only lets us manage more comfortably the things we know, it also
lets us know more, by giving us mental places to put it all.

A theory, a story about why things happen, does one other very important thing for us:
if you know why things are the way they are, you know what would have to happen to
change them. A theory points out where you can find leverage for bringing about
social change.

Theories of society
The kinds of theories we’re interested in for understanding schools are those that
attempt to explain why societies have the features they do. I’m going to describe three
kinds of theories of society, three general ways to make sense of the world around us.
When someone tells a story about why things are the way they are, that story will
usually fit into one or another of these three categories.

Functionalism

Functionalist theories assume the different parts of a society each have their own role
to play (their own "function"), and work together smoothly in order to form a
harmonious whole. The metaphor often used to describe functionalism is that it views
society as a body, with the different parts of society—government, media, religion,
the family, etc., and, of course, schools—being like the different organs in a body,
each contributing in a different way to keeping the entire body healthy.

Functionalism assumes that the various institutions of a society always operate so as

to support that society as it is. If they didn’t, the society would perish; therefore,
functionalism believes, it’s safe to assume that they do in any society one may
encounter, for otherwise the society would no longer be here for us to study.

The early sociologist Emile Durkheim is often associated with functionalism. You
may recall that in our first class meeting, during the discussion of the purpose of
education, I mentioned that Durkheim had said the purpose of education is not the
same across all societies, but that its purpose in any given society will instead be
whatever it needs to be in order to maintain that society. That’s clearly a functionalist
sentiment.

Liberal/Enlightenment theory

A second general perspective is sometimes called Liberal theory or Enlightenment

theory. It’s important to distinguish the term "liberal" as used here from the way it’s
used in everyday language to describe where someone resides on the left-right
political spectrum (i.e., to mean the opposite of "conservative"). Here it refers to
"classical" liberalism—liberal political theory as expressed by Thomas Hobbes, John
Locke, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Adam Smith, the American founding fathers, etc.
(The closest equivalent on the contemporary scene would probably be the
libertarians.) Liberal and Enlightenment thinkers emphasize freedom of the individual
(same root as "liberate"), the priority of reason over religious or hereditary authority,
and social progress. Free individuals, they believe, guided by their powers of rational
thought, will, over time, accumulate greater knowledge and wisdom, and form
societies that inevitably become more prosperous, humane, and egalitarian. The future
will be better than the past.

If any one perspective can be said to form the basis of what’s considered "common
sense" in American culture, it’s this one. That does not necessarily mean, however,
that it is an accurate description of American society. Liberal/Enlightenment thinking
has a hard time explaining some of the less savory aspects of our history. The spread
of justice and equality has not been steady, enjoyed equally by all residents of the
nation, or automatic. It has involved—despite the popular mythology—setbacks,
advances for some that came at the expense of others, and considerable struggle
among competing factions. Which brings us to...

Conflict theory

In contrast to the consensus orientation of the other two perspectives, conflict theories
view society as composed of distinct groups with opposing interests, and view social
change as resulting from struggle among those groups. Different varieties of conflict
theory recognize different kinds of divisions, but all view society as fundamentally
characterized by conflict rather than consensus. Marxist conflict theorists see society
as divided into classes, with owners and workers having opposing interests; feminist
conflict theorists see society as divided by gender, with women generally being less
privileged than men; anti-racist conflict theorists emphasize conflict across racial
lines; anti-imperialist conflict theorists emphasize global conflict between wealthy
and poor nations; etc.

From the perspective of a conflict theorist, functionalism and Liberal/Enlightenment

theory both attempt to sweep social divisions under the rug. A conflict theorist would
say that by claiming existing social arrangements work to everyone’s benefit
(functionalism), or current deficiencies will diminish automatically over time as we
grow more enlightened (Liberal/Enlightenment), the other two perspectives obscure
the power imbalances between groups within the society and discourage the oppressed
from recognizing their relative disadvantage and doing something about it. In short,
from this perspective, rather than helping clarify how society works, the other two
function as ideologies that cloud the minds of the less powerful, inducing them to
accept society as it exists.

Comparison

As illustrated in the chart below, functionalism and Liberal/Enlightenment theory

share an assumption of consensus, an assumption that all members of a society have
common interests and generally concur with the direction the society takes, whereas
conflict theory assumes the opposite, that various groups have conflicting interests
and that historical developments are determined by that conflict.

Meanwhile, there’s also something that Liberal/Enlightenment theory and conflict

theory share: both find it easier to explain social change, when it occurs, than social
stability. Liberal/Enlightenment theory asserts that progress and general improvement
is the natural state of society, and in conflict theory the dynamism of ongoing conflict
provides the impetus for change. But neither does very well at explaining stability, at
explaining why things don’t change any more than they do, why social features last to
the extent they do. Functionalism, on the other hand, does well at explaining
continuity, assuming, as it does, that stability is the natural state of society. What it
has trouble with is explaining change, why anything ever changes at all.

These three general categories of social theory are ideal types. Most actual writers
blend the categories, not fitting neatly into any one of them but instead being
influenced in various ways by two or even all three of them.

An example
To illustrate the differences among the three, and why those differences matter,
consider how each would account for the existence of poverty:

From a functionalist perspective, poverty must somehow contribute to the general

well-being of society. Perhaps the existence of poverty serves as an incentive,
encouraging everyone to work harder than they otherwise might, so as to avoid
becoming poor, and thereby boosting the general level of wealth. From a
Liberal/Enlightenment perspective, poverty would be recognized as a problem—in
contrast to functionalism—but that problem would merely reflect our incomplete state
of development, and be expected to lessen inevitably over time and eventually vanish,
as we improve, as we grow more aware of the damage done by poverty and possible
reforms to eliminate it. From a conflict theory perspective, poverty is imposed,
reflecting unequal power among social groups, and it will continue to be imposed
until those harmed by it manage to force a change. Conflict theory would also argue
that the explanations offered by functionalism and Liberal/Enlightenment theory are
themselves part of what sustains poverty, as they conceal its true origins and
encourage the poor to accept existing social arrangements rather than organize to
combat them.

Note that, as the chart indicates, the explanations based in functionalism and
Liberal/Enlightenment theory would assume shared interests among all members of
society and a consensus on what is needed, while an explanation rooted in conflict
theory would assume fundamentally conflicting interests and aims. And an
explanation based in functionalism would account well for the persistence of poverty,
but not its reduction when that does occur, while those rooted in
Liberal/Enlightenment theory and conflict theory would account well for changes in
the level of poverty, but help less with understanding its persistence.

Another important question to ask about any explanation or policy proposal is cui
bono? (Latin for "who benefits?". It is said to have been a principle of criminal
investigation in Rome that those who stood to gain from an event were probably the
ones responsible for it.) In judging whether you wish to accept an explanation or
proposal, you should consider who would benefit from its acceptance.

In the case of the "poverty" example, cui bono from each of the explanations offered
above? It should be clear who benefits from an explanation that encourages
complacency among the poor (functionalism), and who from one that encourages
resistance on their part (conflict theory). As for Liberal/Enlightenment theory, its
encouragement of patience on the part of the poor benefits the same people as
functionalism does; in addition, though, who benefits from its insistence that the route
to social improvement is increasing the level of knowledge among the population?
Whom does that place in a uniquely crucial location, positioned to benefit from
enhanced prestige (and increased demand for their services)?

Bringing it back to education

I mentioned initially that differences in opinion on what the purpose of education
should be, and on how schools ought to be run, often derive from underlying
differences among the theories of society people implicitly presuppose. What would
the purpose of education be in each of the three basic perspectives I’ve described? In
functionalism, education perpetuates a given society and keeps it cohesive and stable;
in Liberal/Enlightenment theory, it promotes development of the individual and
improvement of society; and in conflict theory, it’s an instrument of social control or
social change (depending on who succeeds in exerting the most influence).

Purposes of education

Returning to the specific purposes of education discussed in our first class, one could
lump together under the "functionalist" label the following: passing on the communal
store of knowledge; moral training; cultivation of the future work force according to
social needs; and the quotation from J.S. Mill (education should "make the individual
an instrument of happiness for himself and for his fellows").

Liberal/Enlightenment theory would encompass: forging a common "American"

identity and promoting citizenship; providing the individual with job skills; the
quotation from Immanuel Kant ("develop, in each individual, all the perfection of
which he is capable"); the vision expressed in Carl Kaestle’s "devotional view" of
education, and the various ameliorations schools have been called upon to perform—
keeping troublemakers off street, improving family life, reducing drug abuse and
sexually transmitted diseases, improving driving skills. Here’s an example that
expresses such hopes for education, and even takes "Enlightenment" literally:

For some twentieth-century Americans, the school became the symbol and hope for
the good society. This hope is best illustrated by a story told to kindergartners in the
early part of the century about two children who bring a beautiful flower from their
school class to their dirty and dark tenement apartment. The mother takes the flower
and puts it in a glass of water near a dirty window. She decides the flower needs more
light to expose its beauty. The mother proceeds to wash the window, which allows
more light in the apartment and illuminates the dirty floors, walls, and furniture. The
added light sends the mother scurrying around to clean up the now-exposed dirt. In
the meantime the father, who is unable to keep a steady job because of a drinking
problem, returns to the apartment and is amazed to find his grim dwelling transformed
into a clean and tidy home. The transformation of the apartment results in the father’s
wanting to spend more time at home, and less time in the tavern. The father’s drinking
problem is solved, he is able to maintain a steady job, and the family lives happily
ever after.
(from Joel Spring, American Education: An Introduction to Social and Political
Aspects, 5th Ed., p. 13)

Conflict theories would incorporate any of the descriptions of schools as mechanisms

of social control; Kaestle’s "derogatory view"; the notion that schools provide
credentials that confer access to positions of privilege while saying little about what
has actually been learned; but also the ideas of Counts and Dewey that education is a
means of empowering youth to build a different and better society.

Commentators on education

We can similarly recognize commonalities and differences among the authors we’ve
read by grouping them according to the theories of society that implicity inform their
work.

The writings of Jefferson, Rush, and Webster are saturated with both functionalist and
Enlightenment language: Rush speaks of preparing people to "perform their parts
properly in the great machine of the government of the state" (p. 177). Meanwhile,
Jefferson says "enlighten the people generally, and tyranny and oppression of body
and mind will vanish like evil spirits at the dawn of the day...the diffusion of
knowledge among the people is to be the instrument of vast progress" (p. 178), and
Webster contends that "a general diffusion of science is our best guard
against...corruption... and error" (p. 178).

Horace Mann has an Enlightenment view, believing that extremes of wealth and
poverty can and should be avoided, that education by itself will "counterwork this
tendency to the domination of capital and the servility of labor," and do so
automatically, with no political action on the part of the poor, as "such a thing never
did happen, and never can happen, as that an intelligent and practical body of men
should be permanently poor." Indeed, he explicitly attacks conflict-oriented political
theories, "the creeds of some political reformers, or revolutionizers...that some people
are poor because others are rich," for unnecessarily dividing the populace into
combative factions, when education could create plenty of treasure for everyone.
Throughout, he assumes a consensus of interest and of opinion, with such phrases as
"I suppose it to be the universal sentiment."

Margaret Haley and George Counts clearly have a conflict-oriented understanding of

the world. The social efficiency reformers clearly do not, incorporating into their
proposals elements of functionalism (elaborate division of labor, with students sorted
into and extensively prepared for distinct roles, according to social need) and
Enlightenment thinking (confident optimism about the prospects for implementing
massive reforms, and the capacity of those "scientific" reforms to perfect society).
And so on.

This week’s readings were chosen to illustrate somewhat more contemporary

approaches to understanding education through the lens of conflict theory. Dale
Spender and Adrienne Rich exemplify feminist versions of conflict theory; the
primary conflict they’re concerned with is along gender lines, with women denied the
equal benefit of our educational institutions. Bowles and Gintis exemplify a class-
based version of conflict theory, charging the schools with perpetuating economic
inequality.

The "supplemental resources" for this week include examples of functionalist analysis
of education (not required in part because they’re pretty dull reading) and two
additional overviews of the different approaches, somewhat similar to what I’ve done
here. Karabel and Halsey provide an excellent, detailed discussion of how
functionalism and conflict theory have been utilized in scholarship on education. (The
fact that they offer a two-way categorization rather than my three-way one
demonstrates that one can divide up the fundamental perspectives in various ways,
and there’s nothing universal or sacrosanct about my own.) And the materials at the
Hewett School web site provide another, highly accessible, overview of the different
approaches. The Karabel and Halsey essay is intended for graduate students in
sociology of education; the Hewett School materials are intended for advanced high
school students. Both are very useful, in different ways