1 The Problem
One of the most appealing ideas of our century is the notion that science can be put to work to provide solutions to social problems. If eighteenth-century physics gave us the modern engineer to deal with technological problems, and nineteenth-century biology gave us the modern physician to deal with health problems, so twentieth-century social science dreams that it shall give mankind the social practitioner to deal scientifically with social problems.
Encouragement of this dream comes primarily from the increasing volume of social research and from the increasing ranks of practitioners of social science. Yet it is a frustrating dream. The professional literature contains hundreds of sociological research papers in which the conclusion calls for further research, but only a handful in which the conclusion calls for practical actions. The numbers of social practitioners listed in the census—social, group, recreation, and welfare workers and persons employed in personnel and labor relations—have increased at a faster rate than the rest of the labor force, but the actual practice in welfare and personnel does not seem to have changed appreciably.1
More important, the gap between theoretical knowledge and practical action remains wide. When a client approaches an academic scientist with the phrase “I have a problem . . .” he usually gets the answer, “Let’s do research about it ...” A large number of social research organizations have appeared during the past two decades in which this type of exchange is quite frequent. It attests to the fact that social research has come of age and is able to give guidance to those who deal with social problems of various sorts. We are usually so delighted over this fact that it rarely occurs to us that this type of exchange also attests to a fundamental immaturity of social science.
However, when a patient approaches a physician or an industrialist approaches an engineer with the phrase “I have a problem,” the response, “Let’s do research about it,” is not at all common. The physician and the engineer can, in most instances, rely on already codified knowledge to give help and advice. It is indeed ludicrous to think of a situation in which a contemporary engineer proposes to do research to discover the laws of mechanics when he is consulted about the building of a bridge, or a situation in which a contemporary physician embarks on a research program to discover insulin when consulted about diabetes. But the social scientist is happy to suggest a project about the causes of prejudice when consulted about an interracial housing project. The fact that the social scientist says, “Let’s do research about it,” signals his common inability to draw upon codified knowledge when faced with a new practical problem. We have competent researchers but hardly any competent consultants.
Now, of course, social problems cry for solutions and cannot normally wait for science to develop the appropriate laws or furnish the relevant information. Even when research funds are available, the scientific proofs demand long investments of time, and the time is often scarce when the cry “Do something!” is in the air. Thus, practitioners and consultants are frequently called into action to give scientific solutions when such solutions hardly exist. In their prescriptions for and treatment of a social problem, these practitioners and consultants, therefore, have to mix whatever confirmed generalizations they remember from past teaching or reading with their personal and professional traditions, prejudices, and insights. This is not necessarily an undesirable state of affairs; all societies must, of course, deal with their exigencies and emergencies, and this is perhaps the best we can do at present. Nor is it unique to the social practitioner; medicine and engineering still encounter similar dilemmas.
Yet it is most legitimate to ask the question: What can be done to insure that the established knowledge we have is actually used in social practice?
What is missing is not helpful practitioners. We have numerous men and women of good will with a real knack for solving social problems. What is missing is rather “competent” practitioners, competent in translating scientific theory into practice. The defining characteristic of a scientifically competent practitioner is not his contribution to scientific knowledge and methodology, but his use of scientific knowledge in solving problems repeatedly encountered in his occupation.
It may be worth noting that in other sciences handbooks for practitioners have appeared which facilitate the use of available knowledge. They differ from theoretical treatises summarizing the same knowledge in that they are organized, not to achieve maximum parsimony of propositions, but to achieve maximum fingertip knowledge for a practitioner who is faced with a specific problem. In medicine, textbooks of anatomy and physiology have existed for hundreds of years. However, it was not until 1892, when the first edition of Sir William Osler’s Principles and Practice of Medicine appeared, that an effective way of presenting this knowledge for the use of the practicing physician was found. It has been claimed that this book reshaped medical practice, and that more medical students have learned diagnosis and treatment from it than from any other text. Yet, it is only fair to say that the impact of this book is not due primarily to its ideas: rather, it is due to the organization of its ideas. Thus, the format of this book will serve well to illustrate how knowledge has been successfully codified for use in medical practice.2 The book is centered around a series of classifications of diseases. Each section deals with a class of anatomically and/or physiologically interrelated diseases, for example, “diseases of the digestive system,” “diseases of the respiratory system.” The material pertinent to each disease in a section is then presented in a standardized fashion. In broad outline, this standardized arrangement consists of a selection from the following categories:
Definition of the disease: here we are usually given a short compact statement describing the disease.
History of knowledge and treatment: a brief résumé about scientific progress and past errors experienced by medical science in dealing with the disease.
Incidence: under this heading we find major epidemiological data about the disease.
Etiology: here we learn about predispositions and causes of the disease. Sometimes this section is followed by one on bacteriology, infection and immunity.
Symptoms: this is a section presenting the typical course of the illness, its special features and its particular physical signs as objectively manifested, or reported by the patient. Easily recognized anatomical difficulties and lesions which are associated with the disease are presented and described.
Prognosis: under this heading identifiable variations and complications are discussed and consequences for different kinds of patients are pointed out. Sometimes this is followed by a section on relapses or on associations with other diseases.
Diagnosis: in this category explicit directions are given as to where the physician should look, what he should look for in order to identify a disease and what kind of tests he can use to aid in the diagnosis.
Treatment: here instructions are given about what to do about the disease. Occasionally a word is said also about prophylaxis.
The medical knowledge presented in this book is not primarily organized around the theoretical propositions of anatomy, histology, physiology, etc. Rather it is centered around the needs of the situation in which a physician examines a patient. In a standardized fashion Osler tells the physician where he shall look, what he shall look for, and, dependent on what he finds, how he shall treat the patient. At the same time the author reminds the physician of the relevant knowledge acquired in the systematic study of anatomy, histology, physiology, etc., and he may even give a reference to the history of this knowledge.
It is a matter of historical record that Osler’s categories in an excellent way link medical knowledge to the real life situation of the physician faced with a patient in trouble. The value of this format is demonstrated particularly by its persistence through repeated editions into which the new medical knowledge of the last half-century has been fitted. It might be noted that not all of the above categories are used in the description of every disease, partly because of lack of knowledge, a fact which Osler often attests. In this way the format also reveals where more research and better theory are needed and suggests one form of interplay between research, theory and practice.
I do not believe we can have anything as standardized as this format in social science, since most social practitioners do not meet their clients under such standardized conditions as do the physicians. But it should be possible for us social practitioners in the 1960s to use as much of the available sociological knowledge in our practice as Osler’s students used available medical knowledge in the 1890s. We, too, must find ways to formulate what we know so that it becomes relevant to the problems with which we deal. I believe the following is true:
There is a body of seasoned sociological knowledge, summarized as principles of theoretical sociology, which is superior to our common-sense notions about society.
Social practitioners are not consciously and systematically using this body of knowledge in their professional activities.
There is, however, a general formula or schema that can be used to make theoretical knowledge help practitioners in solving social problems.
The chapters that follow are devoted to these three theses.
2 The Knowledge of Social Practitioners
To what extent do social practitioners use scientific knowledge on their jobs? This delicate question can best be answered by observing them in practice. Lacking this possibility, we might consider the quality of their professional training. Schools for practitioners give as a matter of course more or less extensive training in basic social science. Much specific knowledge from the school years might be only vaguely remembered in later practice, but here as elsewhere, the rule holds that education is what is left when we have forgotten everything we learned. That is, long after the specific pieces of knowledge are forgotten, certain generalizations and habits of thought remain. For example, the social worker in an adoption agency may forget much about the detailed information concerning heredity and might not be able to recall a single scientific study of the topic, but the generalization that “acquired characteristics are not hereditary” will remain with her and be of considerable use in her professional practice. No judgment about the knowledge of professionals should overlook such latent effects of past scientific instruction.
A more general idea of the extent to which practitioners rely upon scientific knowledge can be obtained by an examination of the literature they read. We interviewed thirty practitioners and corresponded with an additional thirty asking them to name the articles or books that had been most helpful to them as practitioners. We emphasized that we wanted to know about useful books, preferably how-to-do-it books. The titles mentioned by the respondents are listed at the end of this chapter. The list presumably represents the scientific literature of the social practitioners at its best. For one thing, we asked them to mention only the most helpful books; for another, we did not ask a representative sample of practitioners, but rather picked some who seemed likely to be most informed, experienced, and advanced.
We have made a brief examination of the titles in this bibliography to see to what extent they contain practical advice based on recognized scientific knowledge. The result is a complex one. While it is clearly negative for the most part, much of scientific or practical value is nevertheless found in these books. Using as a criterion reliance upon systematic knowledge, we can classify the practitioner literature in five groupings.
Professional Creeds
Books written for practitioners often begin with statements of the moral credo that underlies professional practice. These statements present in general terms the ethical, and occasionally political, objectives of professional practice. Also, in a broad way, they indicate what are the morally approved means to realize these objectives. As an example we can select the following “Basic Assumptions of Group Work” as they are presented in a text for social workers:
A group worker is neither a propagandist nor a manipulator. He interprets and makes available the resources of the agency including its outlook on life as expressed in agency objectives. Because his first concern is always the opportunity for self-directed growth he does not coerce people . . .
The program must be seen always in terms of its effect on individuals. This involves, in the first place, keeping his relation to the group person-centered and not activity-centered. Success from the group worker’s point of view is seen ... in terms of what the experience means to the participants.1
The “theory” of group work set forth here is a normative theory. It serves to g...