Book Review: “The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life” (1959) by Erving Goffman

Erving Goffman is a sociologist whose influence is as far-reaching as it is deep. His ideas, including the idea of ‘roles’ and ‘regions’ as elaborated in this book, as well as the concept of ‘stigma’ developed in the eponymous book published in 1963, have been used and developed not just in sociology, but also in cultural anthropology, social psychology and other related fields. It is not an understatement to say that he single-handedly established the field of micro-sociology – the study of social interaction – thereby changing the direction of American sociology from grand, large-scale functionalism as pioneered by the likes of Talcott Parsons and Robert Merton to a subtler, more ethnographic approach as previously favoured by cultural anthropologists.

The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life is Goffman’s most famous and arguably most important book, for many of his later theories stem from the fundamental positions established here. Central to the book is the metaphor of the theater that he uses extensively throughout the book and gives name to the ‘dramaturgical approach’ as advocated by Goffman. His interest lies not with innate qualities of “the individual” or “personhood” like psychological structures that frame and control one’s actions; rather, his aim is to investigate what happens in situations of social interaction – what one does when in presence of someone else. This is what makes his approach distinct from social psychology, and gives him the status of a sociologist: his interest is in how people interact, not what the mental structures are for social interaction.

Goffman’s primary assumption is that individuals differ not by innate qualities, but by the situations they find themselves in to which they adopt different ‘roles’ (15-16). Each role is context-dependent, meaning that it is defined by the ‘setting’ – the front room, a restaurant, hotel reception desk etc. – not by the participants. Thus, individuals are placed on a ‘stage’, for which there are tacit rules. Each stage has a ‘performer’, presenting oneself in front of the ‘audience’; in a restaurant, there exists roles of the waiter, the customer, the bartender, chef, and so on, each of whom are presented in the gaze of one another. Participants are expected to ‘perform’ the roles according to pre-existing routine – they ‘dramatize’ and their roles real and physical. Each role has different attributes – what Goffman calls ‘character’. Character is different from role, as it refers the qualities that a particular role exudes: for example, waitresses are not expected to chat casually with customers (unless spoken to), and security guards are required to be taciturn and stern. This act is called ‘putting on a front’, whereby the front is defined as ‘the expressive equipment of a standard kind intentionally or unwittingly employed by the individual during his performance’ (22). The purpose of the performer is none other to maintain the definition of the setting and act out a routine: ‘to sustain a particular definition of the situation, this representing, as it were, his claim as to what reality is’ (85).

Settings are not restricted to interaction between isolated individuals in a one-to-one scenario. One can have ‘teams’ – participants who share the same setting and ‘co-operate in staging a single routine’ (79). For example, co-workers at a shop may chat to each other casually when there are no customers present (when they are not putting on a front), but may speak to each other on more formal terms in the presence of a customer. A team-mate helps to maintenance and reinforce the situation by collaborating with each other. He cites an example from a magazine:

When outsiders are present, the touch of businesslike formality is even more important. You may call your secretary “Mary” and your partner “Joe” all day, but when a stranger comes into your office you should refer to your associates as you would expect the stranger to address them: Miss or Mr. You may have a running joke with the switchboard operator, but you let it ride when you are placing a call in an outsider’s hearing. (Esquire Etiquette 1953; 79).

Not all the world’s a stage, however. Goffman divides the setting into two regions: ‘front’ and ‘back’. The front region is the stage, as it were, on which performance takes place. One must follow the routines meticulously, and mistakes cannot be made. On the hand, the back region is the equivalent of backstage and the green room: here, the participants are ‘out of play’ (121) – one can be ‘out of character’, have a chat with fellow performers, or curtail some formalities that would otherwise be required. Such back regions may be the kitchen of a restaurant, the bedroom, or the smoking area.

Of course, roles and settings are diverse and more complex: that is why Goffman discusses different roles that do not simply fit the role of ‘performer’ or ‘audience’, and this is where discrepant roles come in. For example there is the role of “shill”. ‘A shill is someone who acts as though he were an ordinary member of the audience but is in fact in league with the performers’ (146). Such performers may contribute in maintaining the setting, for example, in a gamble setting and showing others how to be involved. Another example of this is the house servant: although they may be present in highly private settings revealing personal, possibly embarrassing, information, they are expect to remain there, almost as though there were non-existent. Though their roles are not as clear-cut as that of the ‘performer’ or ‘audience’ (they may be performing as the audience), they contribute to maintaining the particular definition of a setting.

The rest of the book is structured around how to circumvent these restrictions that are entailed with keeping up a setting and having to act out roles. People often express dissatisfaction without detection, by making a face at someone’s back, or mocking the audience in a way unintelligible to the audience: ‘[J]azz musicians obliged to play “corny” music will sometimes play a little more than necessary, the slight exaggeration serving as a means by which the musicians can convey to each other their contempt for the audience and their own loyalty to higher things’ (188). Here again, the situation must be maintained, but can be ‘stretched’ depending on how well the participants know to perform their roles. One must, at all costs, avoid embarrassment by ruining the setting.

If the performance is threatened, performers may devise different tactics. When accidents and slip-ups do occur, every effort must be made to go back to the ‘correct’ routine. There may be strategies to circumvent embarrassment. For example, aging prostitutes in nineteenth century London stood in the dark to hide their less desirable features (222). Or (in an example not given in the book) one may pretend not to hear or smell flatulence in a confined space, to save embarrassment for whoever farted, and also to avoid the risk of going out of one’s own character as demanded in the setting (for example, in a lift).

Though the book reads at over 250 pages, it is a pleasure to read, and never gets so abstract and theoretical to leave the reader behind in the dark. Perhaps it’s his style: it is often succinct and clear, yet not lacking depth of insight and precision of ideas. Not only does he manage to explain complex ideas clearly, he delivers them with simple to understand real-life examples. He is only one step away from social reality – just where a sociologist likes to be.

One of his greatest contributions is his transformation of American sociology from the grand narrative-based macro-sociology dominated by structural functionalism, represented by Parsons and Merton, to micro-sociology based on symbolic interaction. Though he never commented on grand narratives or social structures as such, Goffman was carefully not to throw the baby out with the bathwater by contextualising social situations on the basis of wider social structures, such as class, gender and race. Nonetheless, for Goffman, what was more interesting was what happened on the ground, what the individuals’ experiences of those wider social themes were, which had been neglected for a long time amidst the functionalist interest in viewing society as a whole, and thereby neglecting the parts which composed it. Some influence of functionalism can be seen in Goffman however, as he seems identities of gender and race to be assigned and fixed by society, leaving much room only for resistance, not negotiation or rebellion.

Another important aspect is his argument for tacit knowledge, the kind of knowledge that is socially learned, accepted and reproduced, but never explicitly mentioned: etiquette, or table manners, might be a good example. Goffman never explicitly connected the different forms of tacit knowledge acquired with class (since whatever tacit knowledge gained is dependent on the situation – not on the performers’ social background as such), but this hole is filled later by Bourdieu, who, interestingly, comes from a background of French structuralism, not symbolic interactionism. By introducing the concept of habitus, Bourdieu successfully connects tacit knowledge and performance of social roles with class and social inequality, which Goffman observed only fleetingly. Still, it is remarkable that Goffman had this idea two decades before Bourdieu’s publication of Distinction (1982).

There are some problems with this book, however. Stylistically, though it remains part of Goffman’s appeal, the book contains far too many casual references to non-academic publications, often citing novels, personal anecdotes and magazines, as well as references to unpublished papers and recollections of his ethnographic observations at the Shetland Isles, which are extremely difficult to trace. Needless to say, if this were a PhD thesis today, it would not pass.

More substantially, in addition to the problems addressed above, Goffman’s view of the setting – the front region – and how individuals navigate around it is too rigid. He assumes that participants do and must adopt the role, whether they like it or not. The only strategies for going against the situation are covert, never explicitly challenging the settings themselves. This view becomes elaborated more fully in Asylums and Stigma, where the vulnerable or the stigmatised are always vulnerable and stigmatised: it is impossible for them to overturn the framing structures themselves. For example, an illiterate person may wear glasses and hold a newspaper to hide his literacy, but the stigma against illiteracy remains unchallenged. The same is the case for negative stereotypes towards blacks or other ethnic minorities. Against those identities that are socially created and assigned, they can resist, but not revolt.

This weakness is also mirrored in his emphasis on ‘embarrassment’, as he places too little importance on agency. Certainly, transgressing social norms does often lead to embarrassment, but need this always be the case? Can’t individuals transgress norms in order to reshape the situation? To take a very recent example, President Obama appeared on “Late Night Show with Jimmy Fallon” in a segment called “Slow-Jam the News”, delivering a quasi-speech on US student loans to a backing track provided by a hip-hop band, filled in by presenter Jimmy Fallon in between. This transgressed all the norms expected of a US President: appearing on a Comedy show, delivering not a speech but a “Slow-Jam”, and engaging with the audience with a thoroughly ‘un-presidential’ manner. Yet, he was neither embarrassed nor did this TV appearance weaken his role and character of president. In fact, he used this transgression to appeal to a wider, younger audience who would welcome this apparent aberration of the presidential role and redefine it.

Overall, this book is a landmark in the history of sociology and social theory, and is a highly engaging and entertaining read, despite some of its theoretical shortcomings. Perhaps it is no surprise then, that he is one of the most cited sociologists in the world, and that we continue to learn from it, some fifty years after publication.

Cite this article:

Ushiyama, R (2012) “Book Review: “The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life” by Erving Goffman” Mythologies of Late Modernity, May 2012.

萩原朔太郎 Hagiwara Sakutaro: Introduction

This topic is far removed from my usual musings on sociology, but the poet I’m writing about today is one of the founders of modern Japanese poetry, and someone I believe deserves to be better known. I will not give a detailed introduction or biography here, as I’d rather let his writings speak for themselves, though my translating skills are undeniably imperfect and amateurish. There are other, (probably) better translations of his works, but what I’m showing here is another interpretation of his works in English.

My objective here is neither to criticize him nor to engage in literary criticism, but only to shed light on his writings – however flawed my translation. Of course, if Hagiwara’s arguments are correct, it is impossible to translate poetry, as the poem’s rhythm is lost forever in another language. But if it is possible to recreate some of the rhythm (far more important than literal meaning of words) present in the original language, then it should be possible to reconstruct some of the meaning in another language.

From his collection: 月に吠える ‘Tsuki ni hoeru’ [Howling at the Moon] (1917)

Preface

The objective of poetry as a form of expression is not simply to express moods for the sake of expressing moods. Nor is it to portray hallucinations for the sake of hallucinating. At the same time, it is neither to advertise nor deduce a certain category of thought. The original objective of poetry is, rather, through those above things, to scrutinize the essence of “emotion” oscillating within the human heart, as well as to expose those emotions vigorously.

Poetry is that which captures the “nerves of emotion”. It is psychology that lives and functions.

Every good lyric is accompanied by a certain sense of beauty which cannot be explained away by logic or by words. One calls this the “scent” of poetry (otherwise called “elegance” or “decorum”); the scent is an aspect of this feeling of intoxication, which is of utmost importance. As such, any poem for which the scent is faint is of little value as a rhyme or verse, much like an alcoholic drink that has lost its flavour. I do not favour such a drink.

What I desire in the readers of my poetry, is to feel not the poem’s superficial ideas or the “subjects”, but the emotions that lie at the very core. My emotions of “sadness”, “happiness”, “loneliness”, “fear” and other special emotions incapable of being described by words or writing – such things I describe by the rhythm of my poems. But rhythm is not an explanation. Rhythm is telepathy. Only to those who can sense such rhythm without words can I discuss with them, hand in hand.

To the question “Why are you happy?”, one can easily provide an explanation. However, to the question “How are you happy?”, no-one finds it easy to explain one’s psychology. Considering this, human emotion is extremely simple, and at the same time extremely complex. It is extremely ubiquitous and common, yet at the same time extremely particular and peculiar.

In any occasion, if one attempts to express their own emotions completely, it is not an easy feat. In such a case, words are of no use. For it, there can only be music and poetry.

I sometimes think of a hydrophobic patient. The patient apparently fears water terribly. It is beyond our imagination that a single cup of water can be mortally frightening.

“Why are you frightened of water?”; “How are you frightened of water?” Such psychology can only be strange and peculiar to us. Nonetheless, to the patient it is above all a truthful fact. And in such a case, if the patient is to – driven by necessity – attempt to explain to a third person his distress (and this seems very possible; if the person has no special knowledge of the disease, there is no telling what cruel jokes would be played on him: I shudder even to think of this), then the patient would use any means available to him. Perhaps, even with whatever explanations can can be given through words, he would not be able to express his peculiar emotion. However, if he possessed any talent as a poet, he would most definitely compose poems. Poetry explains what cannot be explained by human words. Poetry is language that surpasses language.

The case of the hydrophobic patient is rare. But at the same time it is an extremely abundant case. Humans each possess a different body and different nerves. My sorrow is NOT his sorrow. His happiness is NOT my happiness.

“Humanity is, on own’s own, perpetually, always perpetually, frighteningly alone.”

Since Creation, God created billions of humans. Yet, he created no two faces that were the same. Man must be born as a unit, and must die as a unit. That said, we are by no means completely isolated “cosmic” units.

Our faces, our skin, they are each different. But in fact, each one has something in common. When men discover such a commonality between each other, “ethics” and “love” are born. When man discovers commonalities between humanity and nature, “ethics” and “love” are born between man and nature. Thus, we are no longer perpetually alone.

Of course, my body and my emotions can only belong to myself. Also, only I can understand myself completely. This fact has an extremely, extremely peculiar quality. However, this fact must simultaneously be shared by everyone in the world. At the focus of such peculiar, yet common emotions, lie the real “joy” and “secret” of song and poetry. Beyond this argument, I do not know of any other purpose for making poetry.

Poetry is a product of a flash of inspiration. A certain type of emotion, common to everyday life, touches something like an electrical current and discovers rhythm for the first time. This current is a miracle for the poet. Poems should not be composed with a plan.

Previously, I’d considered poems as being like a “mystery”. I’d thought of it like a transcommunication between a certain holy, cosmic spirit and human reason. Or I’d thought of it as the key to discover the mysterious enigmas of nature. But, in retrospect, these were but laughable superstitions. Poetry is definitely not a mysterious being, but something close and friendly, like a sibling or a lover.

We sometimes sob in the corner of a room with the heart of a disabled child. In such a time, there is a maiden, who, nestling against our shoulders, places her warm hands upon our shaking hearts. This maiden nurse is poetry.

When I think of poetry, I feel the violent afflictions and joys of man.

Poetry is not mystique nor symbolism nor a goblin. Poetry is but the sad consolation for the lonesome ones and those with ailing souls.

When I think of poetry, I naturally become tearful at the touching nature of human emotion.

The past is for me a struggling memory. The past is an ominous nightmare of frustration, emptiness and the struggling mind and body.

The dog that howls at the moon howls because he is suspicious and frightened of his shadow. To the ailing dog’s heart, the moon is a sinister mystery, like a pale ghost. The dog howls.

I want to nail my dark shadow against the ground in the moonlit night. So that my shadow cannot follow me, forever.

日本の政治について在外邦人が思う事

今回、日本語でブログの記事を書くのは初めてとなります。長らく文章を書く事からは慣れている以上、文の構成等が稚拙と思える箇所もあると存じますが、ご容赦願います。

さて、今回なぜわざわざ日本語で記事を書こうという気持ちになったかというと、私は現在の日本政治について少なからず危機感を持っているからです。中国、インド等の台頭により、日本の世界への影響力が相対的に減少しつつある中、停滞が常となっている国内政治は憂慮すべき事態にあります。日本のビジネスが変わりつつある世界的環境下で苦戦する中、政治が停滞すれば日本という社会がより閉鎖的、斜陽的になり、そう遠くない未来で過去の一ページとして埋没するのは目に見えています。ただ、この危機的状況はただ単に近年のねじれ国会や目先の政局によって引き起こされている訳ではないという事を今回は探求していきたいと思います。また、私は特に日本の政治に詳しい訳ではないので、あくまでの素人が海外から見た日本政治への見解として読んで頂ければ幸いです。

歴史的背景

戦後日本の国内政治では、民主主義の定着よりも、経済的復興、発展に重きが置かれました。それには言うまでもなく官民一体の投資が必要でした。政府と大企業（財閥等）のコラボレーションによって可能となったインフラ整備、産業の発達、さらには海外資本投資等の高度成長期におけるめまぐるしい程の発展と生活水準の向上は日本の歴史の一部として語り続けられるでしょう。

しかし、この官民が一体となった政治は所詮経済成長による生活の質の向上を大義名分としている訳で、必ずしも国民手動の政治を目指した物ではありませんでした。自民党が長年与党であっていられたのも、ビジネス界からの後押しがあったから可能であった物で、それ故にバブル崩壊後、さらにはリーマンショック以降からは政権交代は避けられなかったとも言えるのでは無いでしょうか。また、小泉時代以降自由化を推し進めながら、金融リスクのあおりから国民を守れるような体制を持っていなかったのも自民党の責任でもあります。

むろん、民主党が政権を取ってからは経験不足、マニフェストの非現実性、官僚の使い方などで批判が噴出していますが、それは政権与党が５０年余変わらなかった政治システム自体の欠陥でもあり、民主党だけの欠点ではないと思います。さらに、民主主義国家のもとでは政権交代はあって然るべき物なので、もし民主党が駄目なのであれば、自民党が復権すれば良い話であって、自民党一辺倒の政治から脱却した事は日本に取って良かったことだと思います。

政治システムと派閥政治

さて、戦後自民党が推し進めた政治のやり方としては、党内の意見集約に基づいて、それを政府で実現させるというものでした。しかし自民党という巨大な組織の中で、「与党だから」ということで入党した有志達の間での意見の相違は免れません。その上で重要となるのが党内の上下関係（師弟関係）と派閥間の相関図です。若手は党内での有力者に弟子入りし、その庇護があってこそ選挙でも勝てるような後盾を手に入れますが、その暁には師匠へ忠誠を誓わなければいけません。よって自民党主導の政治では、与党、野党で政策を闘わせるのではなく、むしろ与党内のみでの派閥間での権力闘争が行われました。よって現在ある政党というものも、大半は自民党に所属した後、居場所がなくなり出ざるを得なかったという政治家で構成されています（民主党のベテラン議員、国民新党、たちあがれ日本等）小泉首相時代の郵政民営化問題がそれの良い例です。小泉首相は郵政の効率化、自由化、民営化をとなえ、反対する自民党議員には選挙で同党内で「刺客」を送り込みました。また、いわゆる各省庁やビジネス界と太いパイプを持つ「族議員」もそのような、政策の個性ではなく「数で闘う」政治を助長してきました。それは民主党政権でも言える事です。民主党は、派閥程の堅い結束力はないにしろ、議員は主に小沢氏、鳩山氏、前原氏、岡田氏などのグループに所属し、大手政治家が庇護を与える事によって若手政治家を育てています。

世襲制

また、世襲制も政治のエリート階級を生み出すのに欠かせませんでした。田中家、福田家、麻生家、阿部家、鳩山家、石原家、小泉家などと、自民、民主に関わらず、トップクラスの政治家はみな先人の名声、資金そして票田を頼りにしてきました。もちろん、有力者や資産家が政治家になるのは世界的にも珍しい事ではなく、そのような世襲制も他国では暗黙の慣習として存在します（イギリスの貴族院、アメリカの政治ファミリー、フィリピンの地元有力者による国内政治への参加、シンガポールのリー家の圧倒的影響力等がごく一部の例として挙げられます）。ただ、その世襲制は派閥政治を固定化させるだけでなく、そういう地盤を持たない若手政治家の出現を妨げました。その点では、菅前首相が草の根市民活動家から国の頂点まで上り詰めたのは、彼の首相としての実績はともあれ、喜ばしいことではないかと思います。

リーダーシップへの渇望とその弊害

では、派閥と世襲議員が組み合わさり、国家の意思決定機関としての国会を仕切るようになるとどうなるか。まず、グループとして固まる事によって、政治的権力を持つ人達（派閥のリーダー）はいても、個人として意思を発信して、政策を主張する人達がいなくなり、権力とは個人に与えられる物ではなく、グループとして所有する物になります。自民党、民主党両政権での、他の国では考えにくい与党自身による「首相降ろし」などに見られる個人が持つ権力への尊敬の欠如、軽蔑などがそれの兆候です。その弊害として、カリスマ性があるリーダーが生まれなくなります。自身の派閥を引っ張りながら強烈な個性とカリスマ性を発揮した小泉元首相をのぞいては、近年の首相は派閥あってこそのリーダーであり、派閥との持ちつ持たれつの関係がある以上、あまり人を引きつけるカリスマ性があるとは言えません。逆に菅前首相などはとくに震災後にリーダーシップをアピールしたがったばかりに、独りよがりで強権的なイメージを生み出してしまいました。

そのリーダーシップの欠如と内輪同士の馴れ合いと対立に対して国民はどう反応するのか。まずは国民が蚊帳の外に置かれることで、政治不信が生まれます。その次にくるのが膠着した政治を打開してくれる強烈な個性を持つ人への渇望です。小泉元首相、石原慎太郎都知事、そして橋下市長にいたるまで、政策は二の次であって、逆に発言に投げやりな態度や挑発的な問題性があればあるほど、それが、「カリスマ性」であるとの認識が生まれます。しかし、それが果たして良い結果を生むのか、というとそれは疑問です。「既存の物を変えてくれる」という希望はあくまでも漠然なものであって、「このような政策を、このような理由で実現するべきだ」というような身のある議論から生まれる物ではありません。曖昧な希望だけが果たされても、中身がなければ必ずしも結果が芳しくないのは、２００９年の政権交代が示した通りです。それは橋下市長率いる大阪維新の会にも言える事でしょう。今は「大阪維新」の政策がまだ示さられていないのにブームに沸くマスコミは彼のリーダーシップを持ち上げ、強権的ともとれる手法の政治を連日報道していますが、熱はやがて冷めて、その独裁的な手法への反発は生まれるでしょう。このままの熱で橋下市長や石原知事などが台頭するであろう「第三の極」が次期総選挙で人気を得たとしても、政策がまだ何もない以上、民主党の二の舞になるのではないでしょうか。

政策の無策さを変えるには

今国会が直面している「決められない政治」は決して偶然で起こった事象ではありません。いまの日本の政治政局はより深い、構造的な問題の産物であってそれは一人のカリスマ性のあるリーダーによってすぐに改善できるような物でもありません。それを変えられるのは、結局国民だけであって、それを変えるのも、政治家だけではなくて、国民の責任でもあります。それには、目の先の利益にとらわれない政策の考え方、単なる人気だけではなく、候補者の政治家としての資質を見抜く目利き、そして派閥にとらわれず、個人の意見をしっかりと発信できる人の支持が不可欠です。現在の消費税問題に垣間見るように、今の議員に欠けているのは、自分の議席の為、自身の党の為という考え方から離れて、国の為に何が良いのかと考える力です。それを変えるには、もちろん既存政党にすべての政治を託すのではなく、新しい極を見いだすのも一つの手ではありますが、それよりも重要なのが、公約されているマニフェストが何なのか、それは実現可能か、二十年、三十年後を見据えたとき、日本はより良い国になっているか、等を考慮する事だと思います。

Book Review: “Risk Society” by Ulrich Beck and “The Consequences of Modernity” by Anthony Giddens Pt. 2

2) The Consequences of Modernity by Anthony Giddens

Giddens’ handy little book, first published in 1990, is an alternative interpretation of the modernity v. post-modernity debate that was prominent at the time. More spaciously laid out and just under 200 pages, it is probably an easier read than Beck’s work, though its contents are no less significant. Giddens also argues that modernity has not entered a new ‘post-modern’ era – it still relies on the same basic mode of production and have the same fundamental structures – but has entered a drastically different era of ‘high modernity’. It is a transformationist and discontinuist account of modernity, that is to say, modernity is radically different, but the changes from the fundamentals of modernity, not by overcoming of it.

So what defines modernity as such? Giddens’ description is not so far from orthodox historical-sociological explanations of modernization, though phrased in abstract terms. There are three key components in modernity that Giddens highlights. Firstly, Space-time distanciation removes the idea of time from local spatial limits, and allows long-distance communication and simultaneous coordination of actions. For example, telegraphic communication allows trans-atlantic communication to be reduced to a tiny fraction of what would have taken months and months. The sharing of time across different geographical locations is a key feature which allows large scale social activities not previously possible, especially regarding business. Secondly, there is a greater importance placed on symbolic tokens, especially money. Money is a form of credit and debt that in itself is a form of space-time distanciation, by extending relations of debt across geographical locales over time. ‘Money...is a means of bracketing time and so of lifting transactions out of particular milieux of exchange’ (24). Furthermore, trust in symbolic tokens plays a vital part in making the system work. The third feature of modernity is reflexive appropriation of knowledge; modern society is itself sociological, meaning that it appropriates knowledge about itself in order to change it (43). For example, social statistics are used to implement policy in order to improve or solve a particular problem, such as unemployment, the gender divide and so on. This ‘double hermeneutic’ is particular to modernity, and the idea of ‘using history to make history’ is a consciously modern phenomenon.

If these are the abstract features present in modernity, what are the institutional dimensions of modernity? Giddens identifies four distinct axes: Military, Industry, Capitalism and Surveillance. It is only when these four axes interact to mutually reinforce each other that modernity becomes what it is. The establishment of the nation-state as a distinct society requires the setting of national boundaries instead of frontiers, and the military exercises monopoly of violence over the populace. Exercising its sovereignty, the nation-state controls its population through surveillance mechanisms. At the same time, the development of capitalism brings about industrialization and globalization, expanding ever wider for resources and new opportunities, at the same time bolstered by the state’s supply of labour. The development of capitalism went hand in hand with international expansion of states and industrialization, as well commodification of labour, of which globalization is an important part.

Modernity brings with it different social mechanisms. For example, social interaction is disembedded from local contexts of face-to-face communication with known people (say, in a small village) and re-embedded in the form of mediated communication and interaction with strangers (in a large city). For example, civil attention, whereby you acknowledge others’ presence but do not communicate with them, is an important part of this. What this exemplifies is trust in an abstract system: you do not know if you will be mugged or stabbed by strangers, but to show others that you mean no harm, then you should not make eye contact with others too pryingly, and you trust others to do so accordingly – and not to mug or stab you either. This trust is also placed upon expert systems, such as relying on car mechanics to fix cars or doctors to fix you. Thus the nature of modern institutions is deeply bound up with the mechanisms of trust in abstract systems, especially trust in expert systems (83).

Giddens argues that these transformations evident in high modernity are a result of these institutional and abstract pillars of modernity: dissolution of evolutionism, the disappearance of historical teleology, the recognition of thoroughgoing, constitutive reflexivity, together with the evaporating of the privileged position of the West. Under radical modernization, modernity as a project loses its credibility and universalism. Instead, people in society are treated as individuals and so they act as such: the basis of social interaction becomes not group identity such as class but the reflexive self as a project. As Beck and Giddens both point out, the individual becomes a reflexive subject, making one’s own identity by drawing from various sources. The reflexive self is emphasized as a unit for self-exploration and discovery, with romantic and erotic love serving as a key process for identity-building. Giddens contrasts this with the pre-modern, which is grounded in kinship relations, religious ontology and traditional practice, which are all inherently conservative.

The final part is a prognosis for the future, and how we should act in high modernity (a similar concept to Beck’s late modernity). As with Beck, Giddens sees a greater role for social movements and the politicization of the self, as reflexivity broadens the horizons for personal discovery and development. At the same time, he warns against plain utopianism, arguing that whatever is ought to be reached should be grounded in reality: a concept which he calls utopian realism – distancing himself from revolutionary thought – and instead arguing for politics that allows for self-actualization. Here, one can see a parallel with Beck.

Giddens makes a powerful argument that relates recent transformations not to an ‘overcoming’ of modernity, but as substantial consequences of modern institutions. Giddens’ style of writing is often very abstract, often citing philosophers than sociologists, and this blunts the incisiveness of analysis somewhat (though he includes plenty of real-life examples). Some parts are rather long-winded, and peppered with too much jargon for its own good. In terms of depth of analysis also, Beck does it better, though Giddens provides a clearer summary of orthodox modernization theory according to Weber, Marx and Durkheim.

Overall, The Consequences of Modernity is another excellent work which has been and will continue to be a useful reference point for students and researchers alike, though it is probably best read in conjunction with Giddens’ other works published around this time. In terms of originality also, Giddens falls back on his previous work on the three founders of sociology (Weber, Marx, Durkheim) and his theory of structuration, so it is best seen as a stepping stone to gaining a fuller understanding of Giddens.

The purpose of the book review has been to summarize the authors’ arguments in fair detail, rather than to criticize the authors’ arguments in depth, which is beyond the scope of a ‘blog post’. Nonetheless, I hope that it is of some use to anyone that wants a short introduction on the two books.

Cite this article:

Ushiyama, R (2012) “Book Review: “Risk Society” by Ulrich Beck and “The Consequences of Modernity” by Anthony Giddens Pt. 2” Mythologies of Late Modernity, February 2012.

Book Review: “Risk Society” by Ulrich Beck and “The Consequences of Modernity” by Anthony Giddens Pt. 1

The post is long so is divided into two parts:

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The authors of these two books are now so well-known as the sociologists writing in the mainstream tradition that it seems redundant that such a minor character as myself should be writing about their two books, both of which stand as their iconic works. But of course, writing here is mainly for my benefit anyway, and it does not hurt to provide summaries of these books if only to record them for future reference.

1) Risk Society by Ulrich Beck

Ulrich Beck’s Risk Society (1992) is a book so influential that much of the vocabulary developed here is used outside of sociology and social theory in other fields as well. Though the book is just over 200 pages long, his discussions range from the history of modernization to the sociology of knowledge and gender and family life. It is the sort of book that academics will continue to return to for new ideas and inspirations long after publication.

The book is divided into three parts, though they complement each other in their thematic issues.

The first part is perhaps the most quoted part of the book, as Beck deals with the idea of risk society and what this entails. His most important idea is the transition from industrial society (classical modernity) to risk society (reflexive modernity). He eschews the term post-modernity, and instead argues that there has been a substantive change in social structures that has resulted in a different kind of modernity that is not altogether post-modern. This fundamental societal change is seen not in terms of the mode of production, as Marx does, but in the shift of emphasis from the creation and distribution of wealth to the creation, distribution, and mitigation of risk. While society under industrial society is structured around economic inequality and wealth in scarcity, risk society is structured around risk in abundance.

So what is risk? Risk is different from danger. Danger is something that has a negative consequence as a result of something else: it is dangerous to jump off a cliff, or it is dangerous to use an electric shaver in the bath. We know the cause and we know the probable effect, and the causal link is often visible. Risk, however, is something altogether different. Risk is often invisible, imperceptible, and quantitatively incalculable. Our water source may contain arsenic, Japanese rice may be contaminated with radiation, global warming may destroy several thousand cities in the near future as a result of rising sea levels. Of course, risk is constructed around social discourse of identification, definition and construction: vegetables containing DDT is not a risk per se until scientists discover it – the latent, scientific risk hides behind ignorance until it becomes socially formulated risk.

Risk affects social structures in several important ways. For example, risk trumps borders – global warming does not respect national boundaries – and a butterfly effect can affect remote parts of the world severely, just as sheep in Wales were contaminated by radiation from Chernobyl. As Beck put it elegantly, “poverty is hierarchic, smog is democratic” (36). Though risk affects all of society ‘democratically’, this strengthens than weakens stratification: the rich are able to literally buy their way out of risk by fleeing from affected areas, buying more expensive, safer foods, and safeguarding their interests against risk, for example, preventing the construction of a power plant around their neighbourhood. The logic of risk society stands totally opposite to that of industrial society: risk accumulates at the bottom, while wealth accumulates at the top. Of course, one must note that risk positions are not congruous with class positions. Residents in Fukushima prefecture are at more risk of radiation, but they do not comprise an economic underclass. Thus, risk is universal, but it is distributed unevenly.

Science too contributes to the organization and distribution of risk. ‘Natural scientists work in a powerful political, economic and cultural magnetic field’ (82). When there is perceived risk, the onus is on those who are affected to prove that there is a risk, for which they must provide scientific evidence, rather than a hunch or a common-sensical concern. When the risk is discovered and acknowledged, scientists are hired to research the ‘acceptable’ levels of poison or radiation that people are exposed to (though one may wonder if there is really any ‘reasonable’ amount of poison that one can be exposed to in the first place). Risk is socially construed and constructed, of which science comprises a vital part.

Part II deals with consequences of risk society that affect the ‘inner structures’ under reflexive modernization, especially regarding identities of class, gender, family and employment. Beck notes that industrial society (classical modernity), though it broke free from the iron grip of religion, still relied on traditional social forms that were inherited from feudal society: class and stratification, the nuclear family, the breadwinner model of gender etc. Under reflexive modernization, this changes once again. ‘The extension of industrial society beyond its gender-specific division carries out in equal measure the dissolution of its family morals, its gender fates, its taboos on marriage, parenthood and sexuality, even the reunification of housework and industrial work’ (108). Ulrich’s diagnosis and prognosis are mixed with pessimism and optimism. As people become more ‘employees’ than ‘workers’, the traditional class ties dissolve, in turn weakening trade unionism and class politics, and national politics starts to resemble popularity contests. Political parties thus necessarily move to the centre, as their efforts to attract votes appeals to the individual, not the group. Gender roles change as more women go into work and less men work full-time. The idea of the nuclear, heterosexual family breaks down as gender politics makes gender more complex and intersectional, which Beck calls the ‘new liberation of men and women from the feudal dictates of gender’ (which is unintentionally ironic given his identification of sex as dichotomous) (108). In terms of employment, the idea of working for one company for an entire career gives way to a reflexive mode of employment, where the employee ‘tries out’ many different career options and different working hours (142).

The processes described are termed ‘individualization’, which is an essential part of reflexivization. To quote, in reflexive modernity, ‘each person’s biography is removed from given determinations and placed in his or her own hands, open and dependent on decisions. The proportion of life opportunities which are fundamentally closed to decision-making is decreasing and the proportion of the biography which is open and must be constructed personally is increasing.’ (135)

Part III engages with a discussion on the nature of science and the function of scientific knowledge in risk society. Science gained its power in classical modernity through dogmatization, by claiming universal validity of its theories, perpetuating this belief and establishing the discipline as the objective and impartial guide and legislator. Beck argues that in reflexive modernity, the claims for the universality of scientific knowledge are undermined by the logic of fallibilism inherent in science: that it is only a tentative hypothesis, that it can be overturned with further experimentation and better results. Thus, sciences’s function as a truth-legislating authority becomes less general, but more technical and specific. But as society comes to terms with risk, this also risks making society rule-bound to technical details of the most obscure sciences, regulated not by public discourse but by numbers. ‘The further scientization proceeds and the more clearly risk situations and conflicts enter public conscience, the greater becomes the pressure to act, and the more techno-scientific society threatens to metamorphose into a scientifically produced ‘taboo society. ‘ (157) Overspecialization also means that one way of solving a risk problem in turn creates another problem, to be solved by another discipline, creating a long chain of problem-solving and problem-creating – an end which is fundamentally irrational, but is pursued rationally. The way to counter this would be to embrace an interdisciplinary approach to science and relate science back to reality through institutionalization, so that science becomes not just a cold, bloodless means to an end, but to question the end of science itself.

Another problem is the relation of risk and politics, as national governments become less and less capable of solving problems, especially global risk: whether it is the volatile financial markets or global warming. Disillusioned by the incapacity of national governments, there begins a technocratic ‘closing off’ of the scope for decision-making in the parliament and the executive, making their sphere of influence smaller and smaller. This is coupled with a shift in voting behaviour, as class bases of voters become more fluid and individualized, swing voters gain greater sway over parties, coalescing them towards the centre of the political horseshoe. Politics is ‘fiction of a steering center for modern society’ (192). This does not mean, however, that the political disappears. Instead, many influence groups and grassroots organizations arise, making ‘the personal political’. The sphere of politics below the national level becomes more concentrated as it becomes disengaged from national politics: ‘individualization processes broaden the scope for sub-political structuring and decision-making in the private sphere, below the level where state influence is possible’ (198). Beck sees potential in the role of grassroots activism voicing citizens’ concerns, and expects these movements to grow.

Beck’s analysis is so dense and broad, rich in examples and analogies that it is probably impossible to appreciate its significance by reading it just once. Of course, as with all macro-sociological and social theories, his statements may sound sweeping and inadequately qualified, often seemingly repetitive due to the intersecting of various social spheres he discusses. Still, his arguments are full of limitations, qualifications and superficially contradicting statements that it is clear Beck does not see ‘risk’ or ‘science’ as the be-all and end-all of modern society, but as an important component in understanding the last several decades of European history. As a social theorist, his arguments are necessarily abstract, but this does not make him less powerful. Unfortunately, there is not enough space to criticize his arguments in detail, but it is a book that no doubt will be read and re-read by many social scientists in the decades to come.

Cite this article:

Ushiyama, R (2012) “Book Review: “Risk Society” by Ulrich Beck and “The Consequences of Modernity” by Anthony Giddens Pt.1” Mythologies of Late Modernity, February 2012.