Principles of Scientific Sociology

Walter Wallace

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN: 9780202363332
• eBook ISBN: 9781351496629
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Sociology
• Index: Social Sciences

Principles of Scientific Sociology represents a major attempt to redirect the course of contemporary sociological thought. It is clear, well-organized, innovative, and original in its discussion of the context and methods of sociology conceived as a natural science. Wallace delineates the subject matter of sociology, classifies its variables, presents a logic of inquiry, and advocates the use of this logic for the acceptance or rejection of hypotheses or theories and for the solving of human problems.

Social scientists, including political scientists, sociologists, anthropologists, historians, economists, social psychologists, and students of social phenomena among nonhumans, will find this work indispensable reading. Principles of Scientifc Sociology emphasizes the relationship between pure and applied sociological analysis. The essential contributions of each to the other are specified. Relationships between the substantive concepts of the sociology of humans, on the one hand, and the sociology of nonhumans, on the other, are systematized. In an attempt to put sociological analysis on a firm scientific basis, the book contains a concluding chapter focusing on central premises of natural science and their applicability to sociology.

Wallace identifies the simple elements and relationships that sociological analysis requires if it is to lead to an understanding of complex social phenomena. On this basis, he considers the substantive elements and relations that comprise structural functionalism, historical materialism, symbolic interactionism, and other approaches to social data. He develops groundwork for standardizing these elements so that the contexts of different analyses may become rigorously comparable. The result is a fine, one-volume synthesis of sociological theory.

1 General Introduction

This chapter outlines the book’s objectives, its method, its contents, and some uses to which these contents may be put.

OBJECTIVES

Although they rely upon four very different traditions in sociology, Merton, Blalock, Luckmann, and Alexander all assess the present state of our discipline in roughly the same way, and all tell us to do roughly the same things to secure its future.

Merton’s estimate is that “No one paradigm has even begun to demonstrate its unique cogency for investigating the entire range of sociologically interesting questions,” and he warns against changing this situation: “it is not so much the plurality of paradigms as the collective acceptance by practicing sociologists of a single paradigm proposed as a panacea that would constitute a deep crisis” (1975:28, 29). Blalock’s estimate points to the same facts but makes a different evaluation of them: “in many respects we seem badly divided into a myriad of theoretical and methodological schools that tend to oversimplify each other’s positions, that fail to make careful conceptual distinctions, and that encourage partisan attacks” (1979:881). Blalock’s warning, predictably from the tone of this estimation, is different from Merton’s:

it is crucial that we learn to resist overplaying our differences at the expense of common intellectual interests. . . . We can ill afford to go off in our own directions, continuing to proliferate fields of specialization, changing our vocabulary whenever we see fit, or merely hoping that somehow or other the product of miscellaneous studies will add up (1979:881, 893).

Although they are indeed different, I believe these two warnings need not be antithetical; their reconciliation can be achieved by applying Blalock’s plea for consensus at a more broadly encompassing level (i.e., the level of “common intellectual interests”) than the level at which Merton’s defense of dissensus is applied (i.e., the level of specific “paradigms” for investigating different “sociologically interesting questions"). The desirability of some such reconciliation is indicated by both Merton and Blalock. Thus, Merton warns that too much “theoretical pluralism” can be a bad thing: “full cognitive segregation [can set] in, with members of rival thought-collectives no longer making an active effort to examine the work of cognitively opposed collectives” 1981:vii), and he therefore asserts that “Sociological theory must advance . . . through special theories adequate to limited ranges of social data and through the evolution of a conceptual scheme adequate to consolidate groups of special theories” (1948:168). For his part, Blalock promises that even within the framework of unanimity which he urges us to create, “There will still be plenty of room for differences in terms of the kinds of propositions we wish to state and test, the assumptions we are willing to make, the problems we study, the courses of action we recommend, and the theoretical and ideological biases with which we operate” (1979:898). Thus, it is not the end of controversy but the systematization and specification of controversy within the bounds of an overarching consensus that seems to be the order of the day in Blalock’s, as well as Merton’s, eyes.

Luckmann, although an exponent of a different sociological tradition than either Blalock or Merton, nevertheless expresses a similar diagnosis and prescription when, speaking of a “crisis of social science,” he says

because every indication of the critical condition of the patient is attributed to a serious but localized infection (structural-functionalism, structuralisme, neopositivism, “critical theory,” transformational grammar, symbolic interactionism, statistical historiography, ethnomethodology, etc.), the scattered symptoms are not recognized as forming part of a syndrome which has a single cause. . . . [I]n my view the solution to the crisis of social science lies in the formulation of a mathesis universalis appropriate to human affairs . . . [which can generate] a metalanguage into which the observational languages of the various social sciences could be translated (1978:237, 239; see also 244).

And most recently, Alexander urges that “evaluative criteria” in sociological debate

must be expansive and inclusive. They must attempt to draw upon the full range of theoretical options presented by competing theories and to elaborate standards for evaluation that synthesize, as much as possible, the distinctive qualities embodied by each. Only then will one increase that consensus about evaluative standards which alone can diminish the “incompleteness of logical contact” (1982:115; Chapter 10 [footnote 11] examines how Alexander himself responds to this injunction).

We have, then, a call–issuing from quite different quarters–for a generalized disciplinary consensus, and for a metalanguage in which that consensus might be expressed.¹ The first objective of this book is to answer that call by setting forth a description of the content and form of sociology (and, to a lesser extent, of sociobiology) in which what I believe is our already existing, but still unrecognized consensus will be made explicit.

My argument, however, is not only descriptive of sociology; it is also broadly prescriptive. The second objective of this book, then, is to identify the several fronts on which we should move in order most rapidly to advance sociology as a scientific discipline. So interpreted, the principles set forth here identify points at which empirical research most needs new contributions from methodologists as well as theorists—that is, they try to say what we need to be able to measure about any social phenomenon that we wish to describe, explain, or predict from; what we need to be able to measure about the other phenomena that we call upon as explanatory of that social phenomenon or as consequences of it; the various causal connections between these two sets of phenomena that we need to be able to establish; and the procedural connections within and between pure sociology and applied sociology that we need to strengthen. We have, of course, a long way to go on all these problems. Their rigorous and systematically integrated formulation, however, may be the first step in mobilizing resources toward solving them.

Method

In pursuing the above objectives, my method is to infer how sociological analysis should be carried out by analyzing, critically and in detail, a variety of published cases showing how it has actually been carried out. I choose this method for two reasons. First, and obviously, it is always useful to take past experience explicitly and systematically into account when trying to improve a present condition; whether we end mainly in rejecting or mainly in accepting that experience, the improvement can be made more efficient because of it. And second, by relying on our collective past experience, we avoid the temptation to draw universalistic conclusions from the inevitably narrow, brief, and biased experience of only one person. Ideally, the authority for the principles inferred here should be demonstrably the entire discipline of sociology and most certainly not the author alone.

Consequently, I think the reader will find this book to be comprehensive of, and nonpartisan toward, all the various contending schools of thought in sociology (nonpartisan, that is, except for its classifying sociology as a natural science). This comprehensiveness and nonpartisanship produces here, I believe, a net of principles that catches virtually all the sociological fish so far hatched–whether they happen to be looked upon currently as small fry or big fry. Moreover, as I shall try to demonstrate, this same net catches virtually all the sociobiological fish as well, because the scientific analysis of social phenomena follows exactly the same general principles whether the objects of that analysis are human or nonhuman organisms. Note that the term “sociobiological” is used here to refer generically to all studies of social phenomena among nonhuman organisms–regardless of the kind of variables such studies call upon to explain these phenomena and regardless of whether the studies are more specifically designated as ethological, entomological, ecological, comparative psychological, behavior genetical, primatological, microbiological, marine biological, or whatever.²

As counterbalance to all this emphasis on comprehensiveness and nonpartisanship, however, let me hasten to add some words in defense of narrowness and partisanship. According to Mannheim (see 1955:80—81, 301—302), a double division of labor prevails in the scientific world: first, there is a competitive division of labor between partisans of different views–in which each partisan constantly challenges the others to develop their views to the fullest–and, second, there is a cooperative division of labor between all such partisans on the one hand and synthesizers on the other–in which partisans provide the views that synthesizers synthesize, and synthesizers then may provide the bases for new partisanships (see Chapter 10). In a word, then, if there were no partisans there could be no eclectics. Therefore, this book, although it is itself eclectic, constitutes no call to stamp out partisanship; quite the opposite.

Now as even this introductory chapter shows, part of my method here is to rely heavily on direct quotations from the relevant literatures. This reliance follows from the fact that these literatures are the data for my analysis; that is, as indicated above, I rely here on my observations of sociological analyses, and not on my observations of social phenomena. As with all data, everything depends on the analyst’s interpretat ion of them, and again, as always, it is incumbent upon the analyst to try to persuade readers that each such interpretation is both fair and sound (i.e., one that does not build its case on mere idiosyncrasies in the data, and one that the readers themselves would make). When dealing with data that are uniformly expository material presented in more-or-less ordinary language, I know of no better way to attempt that persuasion than to present the material itself, show how I interpret it, and let the reader decide on the spot. Note also that some of the material in question is so many-sided that it will have to be presented twice or more, in different interpretative contexts.

Surely someone will argue, however, that when it comes to evidence, published sociological analyses are not the place to look if what we really want to know more about and manage more effectively are actual social phenomena and not verbal analyses of such phenomena. Armchair sociologists, indeed, have been roundly condemned:

Instead of systematically observing the process of interaction around them, as do ethologists, or immersing themselves in primary historical sources, as do historians; instead of living for extended periods in foreign cultures, as do anthropologists; these sociologists endlessly . . . rehash each others’ recondite cognitions in an empirical near-vacuum (van den Berghe, 1975:14).

I hold, however, that the meaning of “systematically observing the process of interaction” is not unambiguous and deserves careful scrutiny somewhere away from the heat of data-collection–that is, back in the old armchair. I also hold that the attempt fully to immerse oneself in any single source, no matter how small, can totally absorb all the energies of any analyst. Weber says

The absolute infinitude [of the successively and coexistently emerging and disappearing events in which life confronts us] is seen to remain undiminished even when our attention is focused on a single “object” . . . as soon as we seriously attempt an exhaustive description of all the individual components of this “individual phenomenon,” to say nothing of explaining it causally (1949:72).

Furthermore, benefits of the division of labor extend even to the discipline that studies it–and rehashings, along with original hashings, may yield distinctive benefits for that discipline.

In pursuing my own particular rehashing of sociology, I have considered the three possible organizing themes mentioned by Nisbet: The first theme centers on “the thinkers themselves” the second centers on “the system [or] the school”; and the third centers on “the ideas which are the elements of systems” (1966:3—4). Lovejoy, Nisbet says, argues that the “initial procedure” suggested by the third theme is “somewhat analogous to that of analytical chemistry. In dealing with the history of philosophical doctrines, for example, it cuts into the . . . individual systems, and . . . breaks them up into their component elements, into what may be called their unit-ideas” (1966:4). Nisbet follows this latter procedure, and, so do I–although the elements at which I arrive are far more elementary than Nisbet’s.³

Thus, my overall method here, analogous in part to that of an analytical chemist or anatomist, is to dissect and schematize published analyses of social phenomena–analyses which must themselves represent schematizations of the vastly more complex analytical processes actually employed by their authors.⁴ As a result of this double schematization, the actual substance and process of sociological analysis will appear in these pages as simpler, neater and trimmer, less subtle, less full of intuition (and flab) than it is, or can ever be, or should ever be. By conveying this appearance, however, I do not intend to derogate the artful features of scientific sociological analysis–no more than any sensible chemist intends to derogate cuisine or an anatomist, dance. I do mean, however, to pursue quite singlemindedly here the special benefits of decomposition and schematization–benefits that seem well-exemplified by the impact on teaching and research of several such attempts, ranging from Lavoisier’s breakdown of all matter into a few chemical elements to Duncan’s breakdown of occupational status into education and income.

Contents

This book argues that sociology is, in its actual practice as well as its abstract design, one of the natural sciences–that is, much more akin to biology, chemistry, and physics than to philosophy, poetry, or religion–and everything in it should be regarded as explicating this view. Thus, the book addresses what makes scientific sociology “sociology,” namely, its substance or empirical referents, in Parts I and II, and then addresses what makes scientific sociology “scientific,” namely, its form or procedure, in Part III.

More specifically, Part I sets forth principles for specifying the empirical referents of sociological description. Here a generic definition of social phenomena is proposed, and that definition is then broken down into four components: social structure, cultural structure, spatial regularity, and temporal regularity. Part I also examines how each of these components may be hierarchically aggregated and how different levels in each such hierarchy may be determined.

Part II assumes the description, along lines indicated by Part I, of some social phenomenon of interest and sets forth principles specifying the empirical referents of sociological explanation of, and prediction from, that phenomenon. Here a generic typology of explanatory variables is proposed, along with a set of causal models whereby two or more such variables may be combined.

Part III sets forth principles, and some philosophical assumptions, pertaining to the general procedure followed by scientific sociology. Special attention is paid to the components of, and relations between, “pure” and “applied” science. As parts of pure science, I examine relations between observations, empirical generalizations, explanations, predictions, and tests of predictions; and as parts of applied science, I examine relations between plans, decisions, implementations, outcomes, and evaluations of outcomes–all with ample illustrations from the sociological and other relevant literatures. Part III closes with an examination of some philosophical premises on which procedure in all the sciences, regardless of their empirical referents, rests, and an examination of some leading objections to regarding sociology as a natural science–objections, therefore, to subjecting it to the indicated procedures and premises.

Three chapters introduce all the main ideas of this book: Chapter 2 introduces Part I and its ideas regarding the empirical referents of sociological description; Chapter 7 introduces Part II and its ideas regarding the empirical referents of sociological explanation and prediction; Chapter 13 introduces Part III and its ideas regarding general scientific procedure and its applicability to sociology. These main ideas are depicted at a glance in Figs. 2.1, 7.2, and 13. 1

As that last paragraph implies, the structure of this book is largely hierarchical. This chapter stands alone at the most inclusive level of the ...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Half title
• title
• copy
• Table of Contents
• dedication
• ack
• 1 General Introduction
• Part Sociological Description
• 2 Introduction to Part I
• 3 Social Structure
• 4 Cultural Structure
• 5 Spatial and Temporal Regularities
• 6 Hierarchic Structure in Social Phenomena
• Part II Sociological Explanation and Prediction
• 7 Introduction to Part II
• 8 Internal Variables
• 9 External People Variables-Body
• 10 External People Variables–Mind
• 11 External Thing Variables
• 12 Many-Variable Causal Models
• Part III Scientific Procedure
• 13 Introduction to Part III
• 14 Pure Science
• 15 Applied Science
• 16 Premises of Scientific Procedure, and Objections to Employing that Procedure in Sociology
• Concluding Remarks
• References
• Name Index
• Subject Index