:l!iil MMHI. ;il|M|M ■ New York State College of Agriculture At Cornell University Ithaca, N. Y. The Professor Dwight Sanderson Rural Sociology Library _ Cornell University Library HM 131.B95 The function of socialization in social 3 1924 013 902 378 '^/ Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013902378 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS CHICAGO, ILLINOIS Bgents THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY HEW YORK THE CUNNINGHAM, CURTISS & WELCH COMPANY LOB ANGELBS THE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON AND EDIHBURGH THE MAEUZEN-KABUSmia-KAISHA TOKYO; OSAKA, KYOTO THE MISSION BOOK COMPANY BHANGBAl KARL W. HIERSEMANN LBirZIQ THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION BY ERNEST W- BURGESS Ohio State University » THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS CHICAGO, ILLINOIS COPVKIGHT igi6 By The University or Chicago All Rights Reseived Published June 19x6 TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE Introduction . i PART I THE ROLE OF SOCIALIZATION IN DISCOVERY AND INVENTION CHAPTER I. Discovery and Invention ... ... 7 II. Conservation as a Function of Socialization . . -9 III. Origination as a Function of Socialization. I. The Social Heritage .21 IV. Origination as a Function of Socialization. II. Social Organization . . . 38 V. Origination as a Function of Socialization. III. Social Stimuli and Demand • S^ PART II THE ROLE OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL PROGRESS VI. Social Progress ... . ... 71 VII. The Kinship Stage of Socialization . . ■ ■ • 75 VIII. The Personal Stage of Soclalization. I. The Feudal Type ... 87 IX. The Personal Stage OF Socialization. II. The Town Type 109 X. The Impersonal Stage of Socialization .... 137 PART III THE ROLE OF SOCIALIZATION IN PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT XL Personal Development . XII. The Cognitive Aspect of Socialization XIII. The Affective Aspect of Socialization XIV. The Volitional Aspect of Socialization XV. Conclusion . .... 177 182 203. 221 232 PREFACE The factors in social evolution are reducible to three: geography, heredity, and socialization. Anthropogeographers have assembled the evidence for the influence upon man of his physical environment. Students in biology, and in ethnology and psychology as well, have stressed the importance in social progress of individual and racial characteristics, both organic and mental. The sociologist, on the other hand, has pointed out the limitations of these explanations of human development: first, because each tends to disregard the facts brought forward by the other, and secondly, because both ignore the part played by socialization. The thesis of this essay is that socialization, rather than either geography or heredity, is the dominant factor in social evolution. The evidence for this position is presented in the study of the factors involved in discovery and invention, in social progress, and in personal develop- ment. My obligations to those who have studied this problem are indicated only in part by the references in the text and the footnotes. To Albion W. Small I owe the stimulus to persevere to the completion of this work and the suggestion to select the history of the Enghsh people for the analysis of the r6le of socialization in social progress. The teaching and writings of William I. Thomas, George E. Vincent, Charles H. Cooley, George H. Mead, Charles A. Ellwood, and James R. Angell have been especially helpful in the development of the social psychological standpoint for the interpretation of the process of socialization. The delay between writing and publication is responsible for the absence of reference to Wallas' The Great Society and to EUwood's The Social Problem. My greatest indebtedness is to my sister for her constant assistance in all parts of the preparation of this study. E. W. B. INTRODUCTION There exists a more or less sharp division among sociologists with reference to the nature of socialization and its function in human progress. Small postulates purpose as the dynamic factor in society, and perceives in the evolution of human values the central process in human evolution. Ward, on the contrary, sees in man's progressive control over nature the dominant factor in spiritual as well as in material civilization. A statement of this latter position and its criticism by Professor Small will be sufHcient to exhibit the antithesis between the two conceptions : "To repeat again the definition that I formulated twenty years ago: material civilization consists in the utilization of the materials and forces of nature. It is, however, becoming more and more ap- parent that the spiritual part of civilization is at least conditioned upon material civilization. It does not derogate from its worth to admit that without a material basis it cannot exist. But it is also true that the moment such a basis is supplied, it comes forth in all ages and races of men. It may therefore be regarded as innate in man and potential everywhere, but a flower so delicate that it can only bloom in the rich soil of material prosperity. As such it does not need to be specially fostered. No amount of care devoted to it alone could make it flourish in the absence of suitable condi- tions, and with such conditions it requires no special attention. It may therefore be dismissed from our considerations, and our in- terest may be centered in the question of material civilization, and this will be understood without the use of the adjective." ^ The criticism is brief, but to the point : "This is partly optical illusion which overlooks the tremendous labors that men have always had to put forth to procure spiritual progress after the material means were supplied; and it is partly the same mistake in theory which marks the most vulnerable point in Dynamic Sociology. I have called it the drop-a-nickel-in-the-slot conception of the social process— the idea that 'information' passes automatically through the steps of the psychological series and de- ^Pure Sociology, 1903, p. 18. 2 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATI&N IN SOCIAL KVOLUTION posits 'happiness' in its owher's cup. The amount of technical effort that has been expended on the spiritual contents of civilization, which Ward refers to as a spontaneous growth, is curiously under- estimated in this passage." ' The primary object of this thesis is not to elaborate a critique of Ward's conception of the nature of socialization and its function in human progress, for it is only fair to state that he does not con- sistently hold to the view expressed here. Our purpose is rather to utilize these conflicting statements as the point of departure in an attempt to interpret the function of socialization in the social pro- cess. The following points, implicit or explicit, in the passage quoted from Ward, may serve as a foil to the succeeding discussion : That material invention is independent of socialisation. — We shall attempt to indicate to what extent scientific discovery and mechanical invention are conditioned by the process of socialization. That spiritual civilization is conditioned by material civilisa- tion. — Our aim is to give a qualitative account of the factors, apart from the material influences, , that determine social evolution. That spiritual civilisation needs no special attention. — We shall endeavor to point out that the ongoing of civilization, both spiritually and materially, is increasingly dependent upon the socializing of the individual. Moreover, we hope to make evident the inadequacy of a program which is limited to the diffusion of knowledge alone for the socialization of the individual and the promotion of progress. Socialization' may be studied from two aspects. From the standpoint of the group, we may define it as the psychic articula- tion of the individual into the collective activities. From the stand- point of the person, socialization is the participation of the individual in the spirit and purpose, knowledge and methods, decision and ac- tion of the group. 2 "Note on Ward's 'Pure Sociology,' II," in the American Journal of Sociology, IX (1903-4), 569. ^This definition emphasizes the process rather than the product of the process. Compare with Giddings' definition, "Socialization .... is the de- velopment of a social nature or character — a social state of mind — in the indi- viduals who associate'' (Theory of Socialisation, 1897, p. 2). Ward uses the term "socialization" in a more restricted sense : "Socialization is conscious, intentional, wished for, and welcomed telic action, not of the individual as such, but of those individuals into whose hands society, by whatever means, intrusts the conduct of its affairs" (_op. cit., p. 547). INTRODUCTION 3 With this tentative definition of socialization, we proceed to a statement of the propositions to be maintained in defense of the thesis : 1. Socialization is an indispensable condition to mechanical in- vention and scientific discovery upon which material civilization de- pends. In this way the evolution of human wants is as much a factor in social evolution as the evolution of the technique of the control of nature. 2. Socialization is not static, nor absolute, but dynamic and functional with reference to the promotion of the group activities. The psychic interactions of persons in the group give rise to mental attitudes which determine the direction and rate of social progress. "^ 3. The socialization of the individual is not complete with the education of the intellect, but involves the refinement of the feel- ings and the discipline of the will in the achievement of self-control so that the individual consciously modifies his behavior and shapes his purposes to promote more efficient co-operative activity and to realize the higher welfare of the group. PART I THE ROLE OF SOCIALIZATION IN DISCOVERY AND INVENTION CHAPTER I DISCOVERY AND INVENTION The purpose of Part I is to indicate the extent to which inven- tion is dependent upon socialization. For economy of attention our study will be concentrated upon practical invention and scientific discovery. This selection of the evolution of technique for intensive study is made because advance in the technical control of nature is not only the most obvious criterion of progress, but also peculiarly open to objective observation and quite typical of the process of all invention. The meaning attached to the term "socialization" has already been given in the introduction. Socialization is the partici-\ pation of the individual in the community of thought, feeling, and 1 action of the group. The articulation of the individual into the col- lective activities is not passive, it is active. The socialization of the members of the group does not necessarily or fundamentally mean that they think together, feel together, and act together; not that the ideas and purposes and conduct of the members of the group are identical — indeed they may be radically dissimilar ; but that the mental community of the group^ is constituted by the integration of the thoughts and desires of the individuals, so that the ideas and attitudes of each individual are organically related to those of the other members of the community. This organic relation of the mental attitude of the individual to the social mind, in which the psychic organization of the individual is a product of the reaction of the mind with the social environment, and in which social or- ganization is the outcome of the interaction and consequent inte- gration of many minds, cannot be without significance in human progress. In what way, then, are practical invention and scientific discovery dependent upon this union and interaction of the individ- ual with his mental environment? In his essay on "Great Men and Their Environment," William James says: "Social evolution is a resultant of the interaction of ^Cooley's books Human Nature and the Social Order and Social Organiza- tion are a valuable analysis of the person and society from this point of view. See Social Organization, 1909, p. 3. Mead in a series of articles has made an acute and significant analysis of the process of the development of the social self, in Psychological Bulletin, VI (1909), 401-8; VII (1910), 397-40S. 8 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION two wholly distinct factors — the individual, deriving his peculiar gifts from the play of the physiological and infra-social forces, but bearing all the power of initiative and origination in his hands ; and, second, the social environment, with its power of adopting or rejecting both him and his gifts. Both factors are essential to change. The community stagnates without the impulse of the individual. The impulse dies away without the sympathy of the community." ^ This pithy statement sums up our distinction between the processes of origination and generalization. The individual originates, the group appropriates ; the person creates, society con- serves. This is a statement of the process in its lowest terms; James indicates that the working of these factors is more complex. He perceives that an explanation of social evolution either as the product of congenitally gifted individuals or as the mere outcome of social needs and demands would be one-sided. Even an inter- pretation which combined these two standpoints might prove abortive. For it is not in the conjunction, but in the interaction of the individual and the social factors, that social evolution consists. Our purpose is to study one aspect of the interaction between the originating of the individual and the appropriating by the group, namely, the dependence of the evolution of technique upon the process of socialization. ^The Will to Believe, 1897, p. 232. CHAPTER II CONSERVATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION In our everyday thinking we emphasize origination, while con- servation is assumed or taken for granted. It seems a paradox to suggest that for social evolution origination is of only secondary significance; it is the preservation of the new idea, process, or product which is of first importance. Anomalous as is this state- ment, a large number of facts may be brought forward to indicate the large measure of truth it contains. These facts fall under two heads : first, the selective function of conservation in appropriating invention ; and, secondly, its role in inhibiting innovation. 1. The mental attitude of the group bent upon repressing varia- tion and upon maintaining the tried and tested ways of thinking and acting comes into working relations with the human tendency to test and appraise the new, because both processes are predomi- nantly social in origin and purpose, and because both are fundamental elements in the evolution of human valuations. The "social value" of an activity signifies either its objective or subjective advantage to the community; the "social valuation" of conduct denotes the appraisal placed upon it by the individuals constituting the group.' The process of valuation in which values are evolved is, then, an inter-mental activity which integrates the reactions of the entire membership of the community, comprising the dead as well as the livings We shall now endeavor to show in detail that conservation in both its progressive and reactionary phases is a process in social valuation and a function of socialization. Socialization made possible the first great human achievements. In the very process of conservation, as well as in the transfer of culture from one group to another, the conserved idea, the sanctioned ways of doing things, the transmitted objects experience a gradual modification, due, of course, to the initiative of numerous individ- uals, but not assignable to any isolable person, but rather to be ac- counted for by the interplay of the co-operative mental activity which we name the "folk-mind." The origin and the development of language is the example par excellence and type of all invention iSmall, The Meaning of Social Science, 1910, p. 244. 10 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION which results from the "give and take" of social life. Presuppos- ing a low stage of socialization, the evolution of the capacity to con- trol in an indirect way the thinking and the conduct of others by the employment of definite vocal symbols made the mental community possible and facilitated the inter-generation solidarity of the group. The taming of wild animals was the work of individuals, but their domestication was the result of the sum of the efforts of genera- tions. The first control of fire was secured in learning to conserve it;" not until later was the process of creating fire invented. Mc- Gee thinks that the graceful curves of the reed-bundle boat of the Seri Indians are "nothing more than the mechanical solution of a complex problem in balanced forces wrought out through the experiences of generations." * The evolution of the plowshare is said to have been guided by raising the metal at the place where the mud clung.* The beginnings of all the arts and sciences are to be found in this mental co-operation of the folk-mind. Bticher in his study, Arbeit und Rhythmus, correlates the development of rhythm with its functional value as an accompaniment of co-opera- tive work. The drama, as the representation of the significant moments in tribal experience, borrowed its material and inspiration from the common life; the ballad was a composite product of a series of men, each of whom added to or subtracted from the poem as it came to his hand. Counting by twos and threes on the fingers led to arithmetic ;" the invention of money is a social process worked out by generations of exchange. The beginnings of medicine are to be traced back to the collection of herbs and practices handed down by the old women or by the medicine-men in the group. The mixture of the ingredients in cooking receipts, like the proportion of metals in the old alloys, seems to have been worked out on a rude empirical basis of the selection of the desirable modifications. Our social etiquette, our marriage and funeral rites, our ceremonies of church and state, our parliamentary procedure, all have a long and complex history in which the outstanding fact is their origin in the ^This is the present state of the art among the Andamanese (Mason, Origins of Invention, 189S, p. 101). 2"The Seri Indians," in the Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, XVII (1895-96), 173. «Iles, Inventors at Work, 1906, p. 91. "Conant, The. Number Concept, 1896, p. 7. CONSERVATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION II collective activities. In short, "social refraction," as Tarde desig- nated this deflection of invention, as it is transmitted from person to person and from group to group, not merely transmits, but modi- fies and improves as well. The socicilizing process provides the conditions, not only for the emergence, but also for the preservation of the innovation. The conservation of the invention is assured by its appropriation by the group, or by its diffusion through society and by its trans- mission in the group. This machinery of conservation is set in operation by the utilization of psychic forces: by the fixation of attention, by the appeal to interest, by the formation of habits with reference to stimuli which have a real or apparent value for human welfare: The evolution of human wants and the process of social change involved, while conditioned, in a measure of course, by the congenital equipment and the individual experience of the person and by the requirements of the physical environment, are almost entirely determined by the psychic interrelations of men in association. An analysis of the processes of appropriation, diffu- sion, and transmission will clarify this point, namely, that conser- vation is a function of socialization. Appropriation by imitation differs from diffusion by education in that in the former process social consciousness and social control are either reduced to a minimum or are unobtrusive and non-coercive. Powerful sense stimuli, such as alcohol, narcotics, and condiments, possess an organic sanction and, therefore, the highest degree of transmissi- bility. Ornaments, weapons, and tools, with their obvious relation to the control of life, leap only less readily the barriers of race, language, and custom. The contact of the Europeans and the American Indians furnishes instructive instances of the relative rapidity of the adoption of new cultural values. The European and the Indian soon negotiated the exchange of fire-water for to- bacco. It was not long before the horse 'and the dog and the gun of the white were in the possession of the red man. But the religion of the Caucasian and his esoteric symbols for reading and writing were not appreciated by the Indian ; the missionary must create an artificial demand for his commodities where the trader had only to appeal to the eye and the ear to adapt his business to the activities of the savage. In modem times, fashions, fads and crazes, those social institutions of ephemeral appropriation by imitation which 12 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION provide for the conservation* of many an innovation which might otherwise pass unnoticed, exhibit a type of social control which, while still largely in the social unconsciousness, marks an advanced stage in socialization, because here the social sanction often counter- balances the organic and activity valuations. DifJfusion by education attempts to lay hold of the natural means of psychic appropriation, but adds artificial stimuli as well. Attractive leadership, the glamor of place and rank, and the prestige of success afford "radiant centers of suggestibility" ^ for the aspiring members of the group. Besides intensifying certain stimuli by special devices for securing vividness and frequency, primacy and recency, the group narrows the range of conflicting influences by contracting the range of stimulation. The emphasis of a small religious community such as the Shakers upon its distinctive peculiarities of conversation and dress as well as its withdrawal from the allurements of the outside world illustrates the endeavor made by every group to maintain its integrity. In the methods adopted for securing the diffusion of knowledge and opinion by education we have the conscious control by the group of the process of conservation, an advance made possible by the attainment of the conscious stage of socialization. Word of mouth and oral tradition, the written manuscript and the printed book, the church and the school constitute the social media in which the achievement of one generation becomes the social heritage of the next. This organization of conservation through the agency of specialized groups and methods not only facilitates the rapidity of diffusion, but offers a secure basis for change. Thus we see that, while the appropriation of a cultural element implies at least a minimum of socialization, the diffusion of knowledge, even by the most attractive methods, requires a higher type of socializa- tion. The fundamental element in the conserving process is the appre- ciation by the group of the value of the innovation to the group. Whether this valuation be unconscious or conscious, individual or collective, subjective or objective, it is social, either in its formation or its criterion, or in both origin and purpose. Sumner' has *Vincent, "The Rivalry of Social Groups," in the American Journal of Sociology, XVI (1910-11), 481. »Cf. Ross, Social Control, 1901, chap. IX, "The Radiant Points of Social Control." 'Folkways, 1906, p. 30. CONSERVATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 13 emphasized the function of the feeling of Tightness or of group welfare in perpetuating ways of thinking and acting. The value attached to an idea, mode of action, or appliance may be predomi- nantly habitual, fetishistic, supernatural or functional. The role of these factors in the beginnings of culture is well set forth by McGee^ in his study of the Seri Indians, a tribe of the lowest cultural development in North America. So elementary are almost all their industrial implements that there is much to be said for the contention that their appliances are mere improvisations immediately reflecting the physical environment. The dwellings of the families are tem- porary bowers; the source of the. clothing was probably once exclu- sively, as now chiefly, pelican skins ; a shallow bowl of water serves as a mirror for the Seri belle ; mollusc shells take the place of cups ; the agave thorn with the attached fibers is the prototype of our needle and thread. Marine shells, in addition to their use as utensils and receptacles, are employed in scraping skins, in digging graves, in propelling the Seri boat, and in shaping the reeds required for the manufacture of arrows and harpoons. Stones of all kinds from pebbles to boulders are used for functions as diverse as manual implements and anvils. While McGee makes clear that the use of shells and the largest proportion of stone implements is fortuitous and impromptu, he points out that the modification which they receive by repeated use enhances their value in the opinion of their user and insures their continued preservation. The survival of the serviceable Appliance is due to the emotional value which attaches to its altered form. This sentiment which extends the self-feeling of the user to objects in customary use and to the familiar and the habitual in general becomes an important element in the fixation and conservation of the function and form of objects, inasmuch as the habits of individuals tend to become the customs of the group. The fact that the general features of the crude bower, which serves merely as the temporary dwelling, are invariably uniform and conventional^" is only one illustration of the many which might be cited to show the dominance of the folk-mind over individual initia- tive and caprice. McGee sums up the problem as follows : "Even the improvisations are made in accordance with regular custom, firmly fixed by associations quite in the way, indeed, of primitive life generally, and of the physiologic and psychic processes from which ^Supra, p. 10. "O/*. cit, pp. 221-22. 14 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION primitive custom is so largely borrowed." ^^ Thus, in general, the habitual sanction resolves into the customary sanction, inherited by the individual because of his membership in a mental community; as in the adoption of every innovation, the process is reversed, and the habit of the individual becomes the custom of the group. The fetishistic or magical potence attributed to an object, even more than the habitual sanction, is a socio-psychic product and is employed with constant reference to the group welfare. Frazer in The Golden Bough has indicated the significance attached in primitive groups to sympathetic magic for the control of life. The survival, if not the origin of many elements of culture, is to be traced to the common consciousness of the ill luck that would come to the group by the slightest deviation from the conduct sanctioned by the con- science of the group. Among the Seri the origin of clothing is attributed to fetishistic motives in connection with the ritual of the tribe. The protection of turtle-shells and pelican pelts in battle is symbolic, and the wearing of textile clothing is evidently an elabora- tion of hair necklaces first worn ceremonially. Even in this tribe a of low culture the practice of magic had developed into a cult in the jl hands of the old women. The arrow poison compounded by these old dames is a preparation more revolting in the details of its com- position than that of the ingredients of the mixture of the cauldron of the witches in Shakespeare's Macbeth. The magical appropria- tion of an alien cultural element constitutes the lowest stage of acculturation.^" Thus the shamanistic chipping of arrows which are not to be put to practical use in battle and the employment of the white man's Winchester as a fetish and not as a weapon in the fight indicate the nature of the process in which even hostile contact may occasion the development of a social valuation of the worth of novel objects and methods for group survival and success. While the sense of lack of control and reliance upon the efficacy of magic is the mental correlate of magical practices, the specific fetish em- ployed is' a social development with an origin and a function con- nected with group crises and owing its survival and efficiency to the mental attitude of the group. "0/1. cit., p. 233. "Ci. McGee, "Piratical Acculturation," in the American Anthropologist, XI (1898), 243-49. CONSERVATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IS The supernatural sanction, although more often negative than positive, has always had reference more to the socializing than to the technical aspect of life and has demanded a higher integration and specialization of the social consciousness. The religious life of every people has centered^^ about the development of a deity or polytheistic hierarchy whose command enforced systems of hygiene and morality before a functional standard was recognized. Thus, bathing and purification had a magical^* significance long before the perception of their relation to health had any compelling power over human conduct. With the breakdown of the tribal form of socialization and the emergence of the community and national types, the solidarity of the people came to express itself in a spontaneous way in worship and in ritual. In contemporary society we may discover the vestiges of this alleged divine sanction for social institutions. Every assault against the existing order finds the conservatives making their last stand on the "divine right of kings" or the "sacred rights of property" or upon the constitution and the courts as the "Ark of the Covenant" of society. 2. In the preceding paragraphs, evidence has been brought for- ward to demonstrate that the essential element in the habitual, fetishistic, and religious sanctions has been an appreciation of the social value of the activity of the object in question, and that the development of this social valuation has been the outcome of the mental interrelations of the individuals, living and dead, who con- stitute the psychic community. With this examination of the posi- tive function of conservation we now turn to a consideration of its negative role for the purpose of discovering in how far the integra- tion of the ideas, feelings, and activities of persons in that functional unity which we name the "social mind" represses variation and innovation. The role of conservation in inhibiting invention is homologous to the resistance which an old muscular co-ordination or habit of thought offers to the development of a conflicting series of move- isWallis in his Sociological Study of the Bible, 1912, develops the thesis that the Bible and the Christian religion are the product of a socializing process. i*Stern, Geschichte der offentlichen Sittlichkeit in Russland, 1907, I, 434-37; see also Frazer, The Golden Bough, (3d ed., 1911), "The Magic Art," I, 277; II, 157. l6' THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION merits or to a radically different train of ideas. The ideas and senti- ments of the group tend to become stratified in definite layers of conventionality and to assume a rigidity which serves as a protection against social change. Superstitious fears of change, the dread of supernatural vetoes, and the resistance of vested interests are typical forms of social inertia which have put brakes on progress. Superstitious aversion to change refers to the uneasiness, not to be accounted for on functional grounds, felt by a person in abandoning a socially sanctioned practice. The record that no sound of tools of iron was heard in the building of Solomon's temple,^' and the fact that as late as the fall of the Roman Republic no bolts of iron^* were allowed in the repair of the Sublician Bridge across the Tiber hark back to the prehistoric struggle between bronze and iron, and testify to the deep-set prejudice with which the users of bronze and stone regarded the advent of iron. The reason that the cassock of the clergyman of today was the ordinary dress of the Elizabethan gentleman^' is due not only to the conserva- tive character of the profession, but also to the strong lay opposi- tion to the least deviation from propriety by the priest. The paralyzing effect upon progress of a supernatural veto has been strikingly indicated by Professor Thomas : "Among the Hebrews a religious inhibition — 'thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image' — was sufficient to prevent anything like the sculpture of the Greeks; and the doctrine of the resurrection of the body in the early Christian church, and the teaching that man was made in the image of God, formed an almost insuperable obstacle to the study of human anatomy." " If a religious prohibition and a dogma were sufficient to inhibit an art and to arrest the development of a science, popular prejudice and superstition have exercised, in more recent times, a deterrent effect upon the diffusion of an invention. So set were the eighteenth- century English villagers in the agricultural practices of their an- cestors that after five years of persistent effort to introduce the potato among his tenants. Sir Edward Coke of Norfolk, an enthusi- 1=1 Kings 6 :7. The Mormon temple at Salt Lake City was built without iron. isElworthy, The Evil Eye, 1895, p. 220, note. ^'Cutts, Scenes and Characters of the Middle Ages, 1886, p. 225. "Thomas, Sex and Society, 1907, p. 283. CONSERVATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 1 7 astic advocate of the "new agriculture," could win only the reluc- tant concession that perhaps " 'twouldn't poison tha' pigs." ^* A singular delusion that "ca?t iron poisoned the lands" induced Amer- ican farmers to reject^" the firs't cast-iron plow in this country invented as early as 1792, although it seems to have worked successfully. The popular opinion that the erection of gas works and the distribution of the product "endangered the health and the lives"" of the people was a most serious obstacle to the introduction of gas in American cities in the twenties and the thirties. When in England, in the reign of Edward I, coal-using was denounced in a petition of the inhabitants of the city of London as "a public nuisance, corrupting the air with its stink and smoke, to the great detriment of their health," and as a result the practice was prohibited by the king, and in 1306 "a citizen was tried, con- demned, and executed for burning 'sea cole' in the city of London," " can we wonder that the arts of coal-mining and -burning made but little progress for centuries against this crystallized opposition of public opinion? The illustrations might be multiplied indicating that one of the chief factors responsible for delayed invention and retarded conservation is the conservative state of mind of the group. The obstruction of vested interests, both of labor and of capital, is perhaps more effective than the drag of superstition and prejudice because of their active organized opposition. The investment of the artisan in skill like that of the manufacturer in machinery makes change difficult, if not impossible, for the individual. When the introduction of a labor-saving device adversely affects the life-con- ditions of a large number of men in a given trade or industry, the resulting state of mind of the workmen will not be favorable to the utilization of the invention. The history of the invention of tex- tile machitiery is full of these instances. In 1768 an enraged mob "gutted Hargreaves's house and destroyed his jenny and his loom." *' "Stirling, Coke of Norfolk and His Friends, 1908, I, 281. ^oTwelfth Census of the United States, Manufactures, Part IV, p. 3S9. "/6»rf., p. 713. ^^Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th ed., 1911, XXV, 275; cf. Bateson, Mediaeval England, 1904, p. 408; and Green and others, Coal: Its History and Uses, 1878," pp. 227-28. 2»Stephen, Dictionary of National Biography, 188S, XXIV, 380. l8 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION Arkwright, the inventor of the power-loom, suffered in 1779 the loss of his mill at Chorley, which was "completely sacked" ^* as a warning to other manufacturers against the introduction of ma- chinery. The opposition of the manual operatives culminated, in the Luddite Riots of 1812-16,^° in a widespread and vain final protest against the "iron men" who had made existence so hard for the men of flesh and blood. Even today the introduction of labor- saving devices is a constant source of difficulty between employers and labor unions, although the latter assert that their opposition is not to the machine, but to the attempt of the employer to appro- priate all the advantage of the change and to his disregard of the welfare of the men whom the new machine displaces. This mental attitude of labor not only delayed and impeded the introduction of machinery, but is a factor which still operates to prevent the immediate utilization of up-to-date machinery and the most effi- cient processes. The conservatism and the special privileges of the established class do not dispose its members to tolerate innovations which may disturb the status quo. The resistance of the English aristocracy to the first railroads exhibits the combination of sentiment, prejudice, and class interest which united to obstruct the development of transportation. "It is curious to note the many kinds of opposi- tion these first railways encountered. Said Mr. Berkeley, a mem- ber of Parliament for Cheltenham, 'nothing is more distasteful to me than to hear the echo of our hills reverberating with the noise of hissing railroad engines running through the heart of our hunting country, and destroying that noble sport to which I have been accustomed from my childhood.' One Colonel Sihthjorpe declared that he 'would rather meet a highwayman or see a burglar on his premises than an engineer, he should be more safe, and of the two classes he thought the former more respectable!' Sir Astley Cooper, the eminent surgeon, said to Robert Stephenson, when the latter called to see him about a new road, 'Your scheme is prepos- terous in the extreme. It is of so extravagant a character as to be positively absurd. Then look at the recklessness of your pro- ceedings. You are proposing to cut up our estates in all directions for the purpose of making an unnecessary road. Do you think for ^*Dictionary of National Biography, II, 83. ^oGibbins, Industry in England, 1907, p. 384. CONSERVATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION I9 one moment of the destruction of property involved in it? Whiy, gentlemen, if this sort of thing is allowed to go on, you will in a very few years destroy the noblesse!' Physicians maintained that travel through tunnels would be most prejudicial to health. Dr. Lardner protested against passengers being compelled to put up with what he called 'the destruction of the atmospheric air,' and Sir Anthony Carlisle insisted that 'tunnels would expose healthy people to colds, catarrhs and consumption.' Many critics expected the boilers of the locomotives to explode at any and all times. Oth- ers were sure that the railways would throw so many workmen out of employment that revolution must follow, and still others declared that England was being delivered utterly into the power of a small group of manufacturers and mine-owners. But in spite of all this, the people took to riding on the railways and Eng- land prospered." "" Here, in the stage of the crystallization of opinion around two conflicting lines of policy in regard to the feasibility of the im- provement of transportation, we have the forces of conservatism, embodied in the landlord class with its pseudo-feudal privileges arrayed to suppress the impulse for innovation, supported by the self-made and aggressive captains of industry. A century earlier, the outcome of the clash of classes and opinions on this proposal might have been dubious, but the Industrial Revolution had oc- curred, bringing in its train an immense change in human valua- tions. The Weltgeist, as well as the state of mechanical knowledge and the necessities of industrial development, favored the emergence of the railroad. Thus industry and commerce achieved another significant and final victory over feudalism, It is of interest to note that the institution of the first English railroad required" the sanction of the highest conscious process of the social mind, namely, the legislative act of Parliament. Social inertia, superstitious apprehension, religious scruples,' vested interests, as obstacles to the appropriation of origination, all reduce to one formula: the conservatism of social valuation. So- cial valuation is inherently conservative, not only in the broadest sense of conservative, but also in its narrower and conventional connotation. A valuation, once formed, excludes, for the time, all 26Holland, Historic Inventions, 1911, pp. 161-62. "Smiles, Lives of Engineers, 1905, III, 276, 360. 20 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION but the sanctioned idea or course of action. As such, it limits the variability of human action and tends to rigidity. Thus, the very process of social valuation, so important in the conservation of in- vention, contains within it, by the nature of its operation, an unprogressive tendency antagonistic to its function. Conservation, then, in both its positive and its negative phases, .reduces to an aspect of the process of personal and social valuation. The innovation must possess a value, conceived as magical, super- natural, or functional, appreciated by the group; in the long run, it must articulate with the practical activities of the group; and it must be sufficiently generalized throughout the group by appropria- I tion and by diflfusion to assure its conservation. Socialization, then, i as the process integrating the ideas, attitudes, and activities of the I members of the group into an organic whole operates to secure the 1 preservation and survival of obje(fts and methods of social value. CHAPTER III ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION. I. THE SOCIAL HERITAGE The role of socialization in invention is not confined to securing the survival of the innovation. The social mental organization of the group conditions and governs the originating process as well. Different phases and products of the socio-psychic activity, as the state of knowledge of the group, the social organization, social stimuli and demand are fundamental elements in the invention activity. These various interrelations of the person and the group provide the individual with his stock of ideas, afford opportunity for specialization, and stimulate the activity of the inventor. The further question remains, In what concrete way and to what extent does socialization function in the act of origination? First of all, we should recognize that invention, like the other aspects of human activity, is a mental process. In every inventive act, psychic factors, such as memory, association, and imagination, are the forces immediately operative. The influence of differences in congenital equipment in invention, particularly in determining the personnel of the inventors, cannot be overlooked in any study of invention, although for the present analysis these differences must be assumed rather than analyzed. What is important for our purpose is how the mode of participation in the inter-mental activity of the group facilitates or impedes the play of the mental processes immediately involved. "Invention," says Thomas, "means that the mind sees a round- about way of reaching an end when it cannot be reached directly. It brings into play the associative memory, and involves the recog- nition of analogies." ^ Jevons gives an objective statement of the inventive act: "It would be an error to suppose that the great discoverer seizes at once upon the truth, or has any unerring method of divining it. . . . Fertility of imagination and abundance of guesses at truth are among the first requisites of discovery; but the erroneous guesses must be many times as numerous as those which prove well founded." " ^Source Book for Social Origins, 1909, pp. 166-67. 'Principles of Science, 1874, p. 577. 22 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION An analysis of these definitions will disclose other factors than the neural involved in invention. According to these statements, invention cannot be called "a flash of lightning out of a clear sky." Such phrases as "the associative memory," "fertility of imagina- tion," "abundance of guesses," imply that the content of ideational experience and the development of mental ability, as well as the congenital neural equipment, condition invention. The content of experience and mental development, in turn, indicate the presence of social factors. The ideas and ideals of persons, the methods of life-control, whether mystical or mechanical, the activities of the person and the group are the material and mechanism of the inter- mental texture and process. Even if, as we admit, the energy and the potential capacity of the individual are largely determined by his neural endowment, yet his neural and mental development and organization take place in the social environment through the play of factors which we are about to analyze. These social influences may be considered from three stand- points. First of all, the individual depends for his stock of ideas almost entirely upon the group. Then, the possible efficiency of the individual is relative to the degree of the division of labor and to the scope of personal freedom. Finally, the direction of the at- tention of the individual is largely determined by social stimuli and demand. We shall now seek to show that these three factors, namely, the state of the social heritage, the character of the social organization, the nature of social stimuli and demand, not only are phases of socializatibn, but also make possible, facilitate, and direct the play of individual initiative and originality. The social heritage is not itself the socializing process, but rather the product, the increment of socialization. For example, com- munication is an inter-mental activity; but language, the symbols and means of communication, is the product of the process. The social heritage, the outcome of the associated life of men, is the capi- tal which each Succeeding generation receives from the past. Con- sidered abstractly, the social capital is the stock of ideas. Ward' has emphasized the paradox that, while only a few heirs benefit at present by participation in the common inheritance of scientific knowledge, the admittance of all on equal terms would not diminish the share. The question, therefore, to what extent participation in 'Applied Sociology, 1906, p. 300. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 23 the social estate conditions the augmentation of the social capital is of first-rate importance in social policy. The dependence of the originator upon the stock of ideas current in the group shows itself in three ways : (a) in the organic relation of the new to the old idea; (fc) in; the development of' a particular attitude toward ideas; (c) in the participation of the person in the fund of knowledge. In all these cases it will be seen that the person as an innovating factor necessarily participates in the social heritage before he can add an iota to the social capital. a) The physical resources of the globe, land in the economic sense, have been the common material for the activities of thousands of generations of men. All human changes are transformations and transpositions of these forces and substances. Yet these mutations, petty singly, but epoch-making in their cumulative effect, constitute the social capital of each generation. This social heritage — ideas, methods, tools — so becomes the medium and the material for per- sonal expression that all further modification is impossible without its use. Thus, the language of the tribe twists the tongue of the child; and a new word or a new mode of expression is determined largely by the roots available and by the idioms irnise. This control which present copies exert over modification evinces the strength of the influence which folk-ways of thinking and acting exert over the person. A forcible statement of the dominance of folk- products over the course of invention has been given by Vier- kandt. "Every civilization represents a sum of fixed forms. Whether we think of language, custom, law, technique, industry, or of political and social conditions, or of art, science, and religion, all these cultural goods constitute definite grooves in which the life of the whole moves. Civilization consists of a series of objective structures, which are free from the caprice and the accidental judg- ment of the individual, and which stand over against him as a given and coercive force." * Vierkandt's conception of the continuity of culture stresses, first, the survival of the cultural element in the group, a process which we have already emphasized ; secondly, and primarily, the independence of the evolution of culture of the individual, his dependence upon it, and .its arbitrary control of subsequent origination. There is a certain advantage, perhaps, in regarding the sum-total of technique *Stetigkeit im Kulturwandel, 1908, p. 103. 24 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION as the extra-organic equipment of the group. Vierkandt, however, because of this objective point of view, fails to emphasize sufficiently the fact that the stock of ideas becomes psychically possessed by the individual through personal appropriation by means of the processes of imitation, suggestion, desire, and habit. It is not the fact of the continuity of invention that is significant, so much as it is that the totality of human technique comprising all the elements of culture is not only the result of the interaction and integration of the individual and collective activity of generations of men, but also constitutes, at any given time, the attained level of culture upon which further progress is dependent. A few concrete illustrations will help to show how custom and habit and the group store of ideas hamper and confine the free play of invention, determining the actual course of improvement. The organic connection between the new and the old is shown in the structure of many innovations. In the transition from basketry to pottery, the ceramic worker appears to have imitated the structure of the woven object.' Many of the geometric designs in pottery are traced back by the ethnologists to pictures of animals and men.* The first automobiles resembled carriages; the railroad cars in Europe are a slight modification of the old road coaches.' The tyranny of known processes over attempts at new processes is strikingly illus- trated in the transition from handwork to machinery. The principle upon which many of the earlier experiments in mechanical sewing were based was that of the through-and-through stitch with short thread. "This principle was persistently followed up by inventors long after the introduction of the eye-pointed needle and continuous thread." * A phonograph was constructed by Faber in direct imi- tation of the human vocal cords, lungs, and esophagus.' These instances indicate in a concrete way the control which the materials supplied by the group exert upon the person. The objects, the copies at his hand, are his, only because of his membership in the community. His share in this mental life of the group provides 'Holmes, "Form and Ornament in Ceramic Art," in the Report of the Bureau of American Ethnology, IV (1882-83), 449, 461. «Pitt-Rivers, The Evolution of Culture, 1906, pp. 39-44. ''lies, op. cit., pp. 117-18. ^Twelfth Census, loc. cit., p. 414. »Iles, op. cit., p. 343. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 2$ him with the stuff of thought and the tools of action, but at the same time stamps its mark upon his personal contribution. His bow and arrow with all the improvement which he can add still dis- close a long line of ancestors, just as the Springfield rifle of today exhibits its pedigree from the shotgun of the Middle Ages. The continuity of invention reveals in a cold, objective way that the improvements of the individual rest upon the achievements of the race. b) Up to this point, our attention has been upon social heredity as a whole ; we must now distinguish between method and content. Method itself is also an idea, a definite way of utilizing the content of experience. What, then, is the influence of method on the inventive process ? Is method in invention something acquired, or is it some- thing innate in man ? History has clearly revealed that the attitude of the experimenter to the body of facts presented to him by his predecessors and con- temporaries, or his attitude to the new percepts and ideas or new combinations of ideas which rise to his consciousness, is of utmost importance for discovery and invention. Thus the use of magic by the savage was a waste of effort ; the theological interpretation of reality in the Middle Ages distracted attention from the present to the future life and delayed progress. Modem civilization is the outcome of the empirical movement which, under the impulse of Bacon, Descartes, and Comte, loosed physics, psychology, and sociology from their metaphysical moorings, and directed them into the scientific course. The moment of the self-conscious employment of the scientific method, observation, experimentation, and com- parison, for the control of life, rather than the Discovery of America, the Capture of Constantinople, or the Collapse of Feudalism, marks the end of the Middle Ages and the beginning of the Modem Era. The simplicity of the scientific method would seem to indicate that it was an original personal possession. "The whole secret of the art of discovery ... [is as follows] : The entire field of pos- sibilities is divided into sections which can be controlled by the means at our command, and each sectibn is separately examined. By this method the particular part of the field which contains the solution of the problem cannot escape discovery." ^'' In short, the scientific/ ii'Ostwald, "Art of Discovery," in the Scientific American Supplement, LXX (1910), 123-24, translated from Die Forderung des Tages, 1910, p. 1S8; see also his Erfinder und Entdecker, 1908. 26 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION method is no more nor less than controlled trial and error. In spite of the simplicity of the scientific method, the long repression of science by magic, theology, and metaphysics indicates that the employment of the scientific method is not innate, but a socially acquired characteristic. So far from being a natural faculty of the human mind, the acquirement of the scientific method has been one of the most difficult, as it has proved the most dynamic of human achievements. The difficulty is only increased by the fact that any specific application of the experimental method requires the develop- ment of a new technique for the specific problem. This technique is often no more than a simple idea. Yet numerous examples may be brought forward of the credulity even of scientists outside of their own field or in an undeveloped territory. The reader of Hobbes, Berkeley, and Hume, not to multiply these names with those of philosophers before their time, is struck with amazement at their abrupt change of attitude in passing from an examination of natural to spiritual data. Even the great skeptic Hume, who maintained that "the proof against a miracle . . . is as entire as any argument from experience can possibly be imagined,"^^ stated "that, upon the whole, we may conclude that the Christian Religion . . . was at first attended with miracles." ^^ We can find con- spicuous examples of the same scientific inconsistency in our own time. Sir Alfred Wallace, codiscoverer of the doctrine of evolu- tion, was deceived" by the tricks of spurious mediums which less able men, by the introduction of controlled experiments, were com- petent to expose. The German "thinking" horse, "Clever Hans," baffled scientists until a young student devised a simple control^* — merely the introduction of a screen between the horse and the observer. The scientific attitude is essential to scientific discovery and mechanical invention. The extension of this method, developed in the narrow habitual, perceptual, and mechanical areas of life, to the solution of all the problems of the universe was a co-operative process in space and time. While the achievement of the scientific i^Hume, Essays, edited by Green and Grose, 1889, II, 93. "/6ii., p. 108. "Mji Life, 1905, II, 293-367. »*Pfungst, Clever Hans (Rahn's trans., 1911). ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 27 method for the total control of life was a difficult undertaking worthy the united efforts of the loftiest men of genius of all the ages, its sim- plicity and practicability render its diffusion easy. The possession | of the scientific attitude is the criterion which distinguishes the mod-{ ern from the primitive and the mediaeval man. c) Not only does previous invention influence further innova- tion, not only is the scientific attitude indispensable for rational progress in technical control, but the actual participation of the individual in the social estate and in the socializing process is func- tionally related to invention. Historically, the higher stages of socialization may be divided according to the development of the technique of communication: {x) communication by language, (y) ability to read and write, (2) accessibility to scientific knowledge. Each of these stages represents a higher degree of socialization, and each, in turn, contributes an increasing quota to human progress. (x) Talk is the great instrument of civilization and socialization. The capacity for utilizing the experience of others is one of the biggest factors in the development of personal efficiency. For mil- lenniums, oral communication was the means by which the social capital was transmitted from one generation to the next. Only in the nineteenth century have reading and writing become the pos- session of the mass of the people. Does illiteracy constitute a bar- rier to invention? The distinction should be made between education in general and school education. We are too prone to make the ability to con- trol the printed page and the pen the test for ability to control the actual problems of life. Many of the greatest inventions^" have been made by men who were illiterate or in possession of the mere rudi- ments of a common school education. It is only recently that writ- ing and reading have had any considerable part in technical progress. Brindley, who achieved the great engineering feat of his day, the con- struction of the Manchester Canal, "remained to the last illiterate, hardly able to write and quite unable to spell." ^* Hargreaves, the in- ventor of the spinning- jenny, was a hand-loom weaver, "illiterate and i»Philips, "Relation of the Course of Study to Higher Wages," in Educa- tion, XXVI (1906), 470-73, classifies the odd score of greatest inventors as follows: illiterate, 1; no education, 11; rudimentary education, S; college, 4. ^^Dictionary of National Biography, VI, 345. 28 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION humble." " Edison, to mention a living inventor, had little formal school instruction. But all the men enumerated here were highly edu- cated men, all expert in a particular division of practical mechanical activity, all closely in touch with the needs of society. Books are only one method — and a highly artificial, sophisticated manner at that — of participating in the accumulated store of knowledge. Com- munication is the medium by which knowledge is appropriated ; the particular method may be talking or reading. While a person is not excluded by illiteracy from the rivalry for achievement, he is placed under a severe handicap. (y) This relation of formal education to achievement shows the advantage of the conscious over the unconscious control of initiating the person into the knowledge of the group. Even with our failure to adapt the content of education to the actual needs and life of society, our system of public schools has promoted the appropriating process. But the mere possession of the symbols of reading and writing is not a guaranty of accessibility to scientific information. At the present time, the augmentation of the scientific estate im- plies the highest possible degree of the integration of the inter-men- tal process. Participation in scientific discovery is becoming more and more an exceedingly artificial function made possible only by our complex socialization. For any particular purpose the character of the knowledge acquired is important. Familiarity with Latin and Greek is not likely to be of much assistance in the improvement of industrial machinery. Mr. Crane's charge against college and technical educa- tion is quite largely justified if we accept his economic valuation of social ends. Of what practical value for an electrical engineer is three or four years spent in the study of higher mathematics when all the calculus he will use may be reduced to a page or two of formulae easily mastered in an hour or two by the average man of common school education? The poet may dispense with scien- tific information for a poem invention ; the chemist, with familiarity with the latest phase of higher criticism ; or the physician, with an acquaintance with the recent archaeological discoveries in Egypt. But a Shakespeare was not possible without a perfected technique of dramatic form and the intense social interest of his time in dra- i^Baines, History of the Cotton Manufacture in Great Britain, 183'S, p. 156. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 29 matic representation. The same preconditions are necessary in science. Pasteur^^ had all the resources of chemistry at his com- mand, and Harvey could not have made his epoch-making discovery without a complete mastery" of the anatomical knowledge of his age. So the ability to read, while not essential to mechanical inven- tion, is the prerequisite to scientific discovery. The conscious use of the scientific method, acquaintance with, if not mastery of, all the im- portant experimental work accomplished in a given department of science, are indispensable to original contribution to knowledge and are practically out of the reach of the man who has no control of written symbols. (z) As important as the scientific body of knowledge is the technique which is evolved to control the experimentation. This technique consists of skill, method, and apparatus. The achieve- ment'of skill is facilitated by the personal contact of student and teacher. The question of apparatus involves objective precondi- tions. The establishment of physical laboratories is in general beyond the means of the individual scientist and must be provided by public or private institutions. One illustration will exhibit the conjunction of the inventor and the organized support of the com- munity. The possession of such a refined instrument of measure- ment as the interferometer^" devised by Michelson to detect movements through one five-millionth of an inch puts a scientist in a class all by himself in the solution of a problem demanding infinitesimal accuracy in the measurement of length or motion. Scientific discovery and mechanical application not only require specialized knowledge and refined equipment, but are becoming increasingly dependent upon the ability to use mathematics either in minute measurement or in its higher theoretical forms. Mathe- matics, certainly no innate human accomplishment, is indispensable for many inventions. Comte recognized in mathematics the disci- pline fundamental to all sciences and the method common to all. The role of the employment of mathematics in pure science is well stated by an anonymous writer in the Educational Review: ispasteur recognized this when he said, "In the field of observation chance only favors those who are prepared." — Encyclopaedia Britannica, XX, 893. ^^Tarde's Laws of Imitation (Parsons' trans., 1903), pp. 44-4S. 2oiles, op. cit., p. 214. 30 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION "In the work of pure science, . . . mathematics is growingly important. It first became important in astronomy, where its field was immensely widened by the great Newton, leading to its crowning success in the discovery of Neptune by Leverrier and Adams. The next great success was in electricity, where Clerk Maxwell, by his brilliant mathematical instinct, was able to predict the existence of those electric waves in the ether which now form the basis of wireless telegraphy. Its latest achievements are the breaking up of the chemical atom, by radioactive action, into thousands of corpuscles, and the endowment of physicists with such infinitely delicate analytical apparatus that fragments of matter millions of times smaller than the smallest hitherto recog- nizable can now be measured and traced through the most compli- cated transformations. At the moment, it offers, in conjunction with the spectrum analysis, the prospect of a knowledge of the conditions in which one substance becomes converted into another. . . . . Mathematical work is therefore increasingly important in leading to scientific discovery." ^^ The employment of mathematics in practical inventions has re- sulted in more complete control of experimental conditions. The crude, empirical method of trial and error has given place to "pencil and paper" trial and error. "In the engineering world . . . the great use of mathematics is the shortening of the time taken in per- fecting invention. . . . Mere trial and error might take years of time and more money than the whole invention would be worth, but by the right use of mathematics a prediction can be made of the relative proportions which the parts should bear to one another." ^^ These illustrations from mathematics drive home the point that personal participation in the scientific heritage is neces- sary before even the loftiest natural genius can add an iota to the fund of scientific knowledge. A consideration of the conditions underlying the simultaneity of discovery and the utilization of the accidental in invention may clarify the role of the factors involved in the process. The significance of the function of the state of knowledge in invention is revealed by the simultaneity of discovery or invention, 2i"Influence of Mathematics on Scientific Discovery," in the Educational Review, XXXIX (1910), 3SS-S6. "/6«i., p. 353. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 3 1 the situation where two or more men independently come upon an identical solution for the same problem. Even Galton, the sponsor for the theory of the irrepressibility of genius, could not shut his eyes to the implications of this fact. He says : "It is notorious that the same discovery is frequently made simultaneously and quite inde- pendently by different persons. ... It would seem, that dis- coveries are usually made when the time is ripe for them; that is to say when the ideas from which they naturally flow are fermenting in the minds of many men." ^* The phrases, "when ideas are floating in the air," "when the time is ripe," "the fermentation of ideas," indicate the presence of the inter-mental functioning which we call socialization. So inde- pendent is the invention of the individual inventor that Ross^* has formulated the laws of invention. So little does the advance of science depend upon the personnel of its promoters that Thomas^' points out that the retirement of the chemists of the first grade of importance would have only a transitory effect upon chemical prog- ress. Let us analyze, then, this inter-mental ferment which even Galton recognizes as a factor in invention. The most famous, as well as the most instructive, illustration of the simultaneity of invention is that connected with the names of Darwin and Wallace in their independent formulations of the hypothesis of the natural selection of the fittest in the struggle for existence as the explanation of organic evolution. The factors in- volved in this situation are typical of discovery and invention. All conditions seemed ripe for the formulation of the solution. The development of the natural sciences, of biology in particular, had arrived at a stage where the discovery could not be much longer averted. In the inter-mental tension between the conflicting old theories and the accumulating new facts, persons would be found competent to recognize and to state the new correlation. Indeed, attempts had already been made to harmonize theory with facts. Lamarck had shown the closeness of the adaptation of the organism to its environment and elaborated the theory of the variability of structure with change of function. The hypothesis of the descent of species from simple varieties had been formulated by "such ''^Hereditary Genius, 2d ed., 1892, p. 185. ''^Social Psychology, 1908, pp. 359-60. "'Sex and Society, p. 261. 32 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION eminent naturalists as Geoffrey St. Hilaire, Dean Herbert, Pro- fessor Grant, von Buch, and some others." " The attention of natural scientists had been drawn to the question of the origin of the species, though both scientific and popular opinion was favor- able to the doctrine of "special creation." An immense body of facts was accumulating, and it was only a question of time when the underlying principle of classification would be pointed out. Certain striking coincidences in the conditions under which Darwin and Wallace independently arrived at the same conclusion only strengthen the recognition of the importance of social factors. If the ripeness of time in this instance was clearly a social fact, so also was the requisite state of mind of the inventor. The solu- tion of the problem could hardly have come from a person saturated with religious dogmas or under the narcotic influence of the pre- vailing theory, nor yet from a man without participation in the biological knowledge of his time. Neither Darwin nor Wallace was an academic biologist, though the former from a youth was in intimate relations with the leading English naturalists, and the latter had kept himself abreast of the literature of natural his- tory.^' Both men were familiar with, if not sympathetic toward, the dissent from the prevailing views. Darwin was acquainted with Lamarck's ideas and the Zoonomia of his grandfather in which similar views were expressed. Wallace had already ac- cepted the theory of the author of Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation, in which the progressive development of species, both animal and plant, from primitive forms was maintained. Both con- fess their indebtedness to the work of Sir Charles' Lyell, the great English geologist. Nor could the discovery have been made by a man without intimate personal acquaintance with biological phenomena. Each of the rivals for the honor of discovering the law of evolution was an early and enthusiastic collector^' of zoological specimens. The turning-point in the lives of each and for the advancement of science was a voyage in which the object of each was the study and collec- tion of zoological or botanical specimens. Darwin's voyage to South America in 1831-36 and Wallace's trip to the Amazon in 1848-52 seWallace, Darwinism, 1889, p. 6. ^^Wallace, op. cit., I, chaps, xx-xxii; Life and Letters of Charles Dar- win, 1888, I, 83. 28Wallace, op. cit., I, 237; Life and Letters, I, 38ff. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 33 and the Malay Archipelago in 1854-62 forced on the attention of each the necessity for an explanation of the modification of species. As Darwin says : "During the voyage of the 'Beagle' I had been deeply impressed by discovering in the Pampean formation great fossil animals, covered with armor like that on the existing arma- dillos ; secondly, in the manner by which closely allied animals re- place one another in proceeding southward over the continent ; and, thirdly, by the manner in which they differ slightly on each island of the group ; none of the islands appearing to be very ancient in a geological sense." ^^ Wallace was struck^" by the rigid dividing line in the Malay Archipelago which separated fauna as diverse as those of Africa and South America, even where the boundary passes between the islands closer together than others belonging to the same group. But the final and indispensable precondition seems to have been a familiarity with the generalization of the relation of the increase of the food supply to the growth of population. In fact, both admit that they found the cue to the explanation in Malthus' Essay on the Principle of Population. Fifteen months after Darwin had com- menced his great inquiry, a chance*^ reading of this book brought to his mind the function of the struggle for existence in the forma- tion of new species. During an attack of intermittent fever, Wallace recalled^^ Malthus' theory read twelve years before, and the prob- lem that had so long puzzled him was solved. What is the conclusion to be drawn from this striking parallel- ism of facts ? A brief resume will bring them to mind : ( 1 ) free- dom from the dominant theological and academic dogma of special creation ; (2) familiarity with the work of predecessors and con- temporaries; (3) intimate connection with the phenomena of natural science; (4) special opportunity of investigation at first hand of recent geological changes; (5) familiarity with Lyell's work, and more especially, with the Malthusian theory of the rela- tion between population and food supply. All these factors taken together minimize the individual and magnify the social factors. Points (1), (2), and (5) indicate that the nature of the participation of the individual in the social heritage facilitated and promoted scien- tific discovery. No man who believed in the literal accuracy of the ^^Life and Letters. I, 82. ^^Life and Letters. I, 83. »»Wallace, op. cit.. I, 3S8-S9. ^^Wallace, op. cit., I, 361-62. 34 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION Genesis account of creation or who was unacquainted with the scien- tific advance of the time could possible have made the generalization. Points (3) and (4) show that the social organization provided the leisure and opportunity for personal specialization upon which the discovery rested. Only a highly complex social organization en- ables certain of its members to spend years in collecting zoological specimens. The inter-mental aspect of private property and inheri- tance, not to mention other relations involved in our present social order, was the prerequisite of any such unproductive activity. There- fore, though I do not deny that "the flash of similarity ... be- tween the rivalry for food in nature and the rivalry for man's selec- tion was too recondite to have occurred to any but exceptional minds," as James asserts,'^ I do maintain that the social factors are quite as essential and, in this case, paramount. Elsewhere, James recognizes this other aspect. "Some thoughts act almost like mechanical centers of crystallization; facts cluster of themselves about them. Such a thought was that of the gradual growth of all things, by natural processes, out of natural antecedents." '* The list of simultaneous inventions and discoveries might be pro- longed indefinitely. We mention only certain ones of common knowledge. Darwin^' assigns priority by publication to E. Forbes of a theory earlier developed independently by him in which both men explain by means of the Glacial Period the marked resemblances of the fauna and flora in the Arctic region and on distant mountain tops. The independent reference by both Adams and Leverrier of the minute irregularities of the orbit of Uranus to a hypothetical planet whose position they indicated'* will suffice to close the case for scientific discovery. In mechanical invention, the simultaneous perfection of the telephone by Bell and Gray, and that of the tele- graph by Morse in America, Steinheil in Germany, Cooke and Wheatstone in England, represent the numerous instances in which priority is difficult of determination. The role of the accidental in invention is sometimes urged as an argument against the dependence of invention upon acquired knowledge. The objection assumes that invention is often a mere coincidence, a "happy chance." Bain indicates the fallacy of this position when he directs attention to the factors determining both '^Psychology, 1890, II, 360-61. ^^Life and Letters, I, 88. 'Wemories and Studies, 1911, p. 124. ^'Iles, op. cit., p. 378. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 3$ the occurrence of the accident and its utilization : "The inventions of the scarlet dye, of glass, of soap, of gunpowder, could have come only by accident ; but the accident, in most of them, would probably fall into the hands of men engaged in numerous trials upon the ma- terial involved." ^^ The ability of the person to utilize the accident is the vital factor, and an examination of the typical instances of the part played by accident will indicate that the mental discipline neces- sary to take advantage of the accident is the result of participation in the science and activities of the group. It is true that a cut finger^* turned Nobel's attention to collodion, and it was an impulse of the moment, no doubt, that led him to pour it into some nitroglycerine. This accident, if you wish to call it so, gave him an active absorbent for dynamite. Yet all the ma- terials with which he was working, all his expert training, the op- portunity to devote himself to this special pursuit, were the result of his relation to the inter-mental unity which makes the achieve- ments of all men in the past the basis of future achievement. The accident simply shortened the time of eventual discovery. Then, too, was it mere chance which enabled Edison to perceive** in the humming noise emitted by the passing of the indented paper over a rotating cylinder under a tracing point — ^an apparatus designed to repeat Morse characters — a resemblance to human speech? No, this association of ideas which resulted in the phonograph was due to his fertile and disciplined imagination. And this discipline of his mental powers was largely a social product derived from the friction of his mind with the minds of other men. We read that a mere accident in the home circle, the chance upsetting of a mixture of rubber and sulphur,*" was responsible for the discovery of the process of vulcanization which renders rubber insensible to both heat and cold. This cursory account overlooks the following facts : ( 1 ) that Goodyear was actively engaged at the time in solving this problem; and (2) that he was working on the basis of the pre- vious labors of Hayward. The tendency of the human mind is to s^Bain, Senses and Intellect, 1868, 3d ed., p. 596. ssiles, op. cit., p. 411. s'Edison, "The Perfected Phonograph," in the North American Review, CXLVI (1888), 643. ^oTwelfth Census, he. cit.. Ill, 777. 36 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION neglect the fundamental commonplace factors in invention and to seize upon and to emphasize the sensational and the personal. Similar to the role of accident in invention is the suggestion util- ized from folk-practice, except that here the group origin of the dis- covery is undeniable. Jenner's prolonged study of vaccination was due" to the fact that his attention was called to the belief of the English country folk in the efficacy of cowpox as a preventive of smallpox. Whatever are the merits of the sour-milk cure for old age, its discovery was the outcome of a vacation*^ spent by Metchnikoflf in the Caucasus Mountains during which he associated the longevity of the inhabitants with their sour-milk diet. The utilization of ribbed and maze glass to increase effective light was the discovery*' of an American visitor in an English factory, sur- prised by the fact that the reason for the use of rough glass was because of its local reputation for better and more uniform light. In all these cases cited, a practice is in common use in a restricted area : in the first two instances a specialist, in the last case a man keenly alive to commercial possibilities, stumbles upon a group practice; in all three cases a vast amount of experimentation is undertaken before the discovery is perfected and given to the world. The decisive moment in all these instances seems to have been the moment of actual contact between the isolated group mind and the highest integration of verifiable human experience as em- bodied in the mind of the specialist. This examination of inventions where accidents have apparently played an important part reveals the fact that the accident is the lesser factor in the situation. The dominant and dynamic factors are, first, the direction of attention, and, secondly, the special knowledge of the inventor, both of which, as has been indicated, are organically related to personal participation in the thinking and the action of the group. The study of the simultaneity of discovery, and the role of the accidental in invention simply enforce the truth that the personal functioning in the social heritage is the decisive factor in scientific "Vierkandt, op. cit., p. 22. *2WilIiams, "Metchnikoflf, 'Seeker after Eternal Youth,'" in the Cosnw- polUan, LIII (1912), 440-46; cf. Metchnikoff, The Prolongation' of Life (R. C. Mitchell's trans., 1908). <3Iles, op. cit., pp. 72-73. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 37 discovery and mechanical application. That the knowledge which the individual possesses is social in its origin; that the knowledge- getting process of which the person is a part is a social activity has been recognized over and over again. We close this part of the dis- cussion with such a statement of the dependence of the individual upon the group. "The mass of our knowledge," says Patten, "we derive at second hand from the society of which we are members. Acquired knowledge is not a part of our heredity, nor are its data ever fully presented to the senses. Each generation impresses its thought, language and civilization on the next. The social process on which the continuation of this knowledge depends is outside of indi- viduals and acts according to its own laws. A child growing up in such a society has his ideas shaped and the content of his knowledge determined by the contrasts and agreements which the social process presents and enforces. The mass of our knowledge is derived from our civilization and not from personal experience. The testing off acquired knowledge by individuals is incomplete, and could not of| itself be made the basis of its reliability." ** A mathematical esti- mate of the ratio of importance of the individual and social factors is offered by Mr. Bellamy. "All that a man produces today more than did his cave-dwelling ancestor, he produces by virtue of the accumulated achievements, inventions, and improvements of the in- tervening generations, together with the social and industrial machin- ery, which is their legacy. . . . Nine hundred and ninety- nine parts out of the thousand of every man's produce are the result of his social inheritance and environment."*' ♦♦"Pragmatism and Social Science," in the Journal of Philosophy, Psychology and Scientific Methods, VIII (1911), 6SS— 56. ♦""What Nationalism Means," in the Contemporary Review, LVIII (1890), 18. CHAPTER IV ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION. II. SOCIAL ORGANIZATON Social heredity, we see, supplies the material for invention. The character of the social organization, on the other hand, decides in large measure the tempo of progress. What is meant by social or- ganization, and how does it impede or facilitate invention? Social organization, like social heredity, is an aspect of the inter-mental community. Social heredity consists in the function I of the inter-generation communication of ideas. Social organization ^ comprises the relatively stable phases of the inter-mental process. These more or less permanent mental attitudes tend to take objective form in the social structure with its division of labor and its special- ization of function. Social organization consists, then, whatever its external forms, in the organized mental attitude of the members of the group. Consequently in the use of the term "social organiza- tion," stress will be laid upon its fundamentally psychic character. As related to invention, several stages in the social organization may be traced: (a) mental attitudes in general, as expressed in social tendencies rather than incorporated in social structure ; (b) the fundamental stratification of mental attitude as exhibited in division of labor and specialization of occupation; (c) the emergence of a leisure class ; (d) the rise of a scientific class ; (e) organized research. a) The organized mental attitude of the group has played a decisive part in the conservation of invention. The attitude of the group is even more important in facilitating origination. In the first place, the freedom of the individual, so important for invention, varies with the group feeling. "There cannot be the least doubt," says Royce, "that individuals themselves vary more in their own habits, become more productive of novel processes, and contribute more to the variation of social habits, when the conditions are such as to favor the social tendencies often called by the general name individualism. . . . The periods of great individualism have 38 ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 39 been periods of relatively great inventiveness." ^ The individualistic attitude so productive of innovations in Athens, in the Renaissance, and in the Revolutionary Period is itself social in origin and in its coercive effect upon the members of the group. With this brief men- tion of the general role of mental attitudes, we pass to a considera- tion of the relation of the more objective expressions of social organization to origination. The division of occupations and the specialization of skill rest upon physiological and mental differences, which, embodied in group attitudes, constitute the cohesive element in the social struc- ture. The two great dividing lines biologically are by age and sex ; lesser divisions arise from differences in aptitudes. The respective role of youth and of age in a group is determined by the dominant group attitude. The tendency of youth to vary and the conservative disposition of age have important influences when the social organ- ization gives undue weight to one or the other. Says Royce, "In the individual the most important independent variations of his habits occur during the growth of his social sense. The mere organic growth of the brain has, of course, a good deal to do with this youth- ful variability. But there can also be no doubt that it is the social sensitiveness of the young which is one very important factor in the same process." ^ The social sensitivity of youth and the adolescent tendency to vary have important relations to progress. Invention rests upon this capacity for variable reactions, to the stimuli in the environment. Only in modern society has mankind been able to combine flexibility with stability in the social structure so as to secure fuller utilization of the variability and radicalism of the young. The world-old tendency has been for age to conserve and for youth to create. Both are essential : the first tenjlency empha- sizes past valuations ; the second, revaluation and consequent modi- fication. b) More important, in the beginnings of culture, than organ- ization by age, was grouping by sex. For physiological and psychic reasons, sex became the first dividing line in economic activities. Certain occupations fell definitely to women and certain others to men, and taboo, an inter-mental attitude, soon arose to enforce these iRoyce, "Psychology of Invention," in the Psychological Review, V (1898), 122. Hbid., pp. 121-22. 40 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION separations. Even today, the small boy feels keenly the ban which his sex-conscious masculine group puts on dishwashing. This folk- feeling sanctioned the sexual divisions of occupation and had a wide- reaching influence upon the beginnings of culture. The separation by sex meant the narrowing of attention, rude specialization, and a constant increment of skill. Even in the matriarchal communities of savages on the lowest cultural level we find differentiation by sex in occupational activity. Among the Seri* the activities of the males are chiefly limited to fighting and fishing; the women are the real workers. Althougih the activities of the matrons are general, they are definitely the water-carriers and the workers in pottery and the clothing-makers of the tribe. In the sphere of these activities have occurred the chief technical advances of the Seri. The attention and ingenuity of gen- erations of men directed toward fishing and fighting have resulted in the perfection of the harpoon and the poison-tipped arrow. The more peaceful activities of the women, as water-carriers and as makers of clothing, have occasioned the relatively high perfection of the olla and achieved a crude stage in the development of the art of plaiting and weaving. Mason* attributes the development of pottery and weaving and the first steps in agriculture to the women. This direction of the attention to occupational interests rests upon the natural cleavage by sex, enforced by the strongest of mental attitudes, and results in a high degree of technical develop- ment. Further division of labor comes by differentiation of activity into the specific occupations and trades. The advantages of special- ization were not early perceived. Where specialization was con- scious and peaceful it was the result of community action. Thus when a swineherd took care of the sheep, and the shoemaker cobbled for the village, both were assured' of their quota of bread assessed upon the households in the community. The guild system of trade organization was much more complex and required a much higher integration of the mental community. The more rigidly, however, the mediaeval attitude insisted upon the separation of trade functions *McGee, op. cit., p. 274. *0p. cit., and especially Woman's Share in Primitive Culture, 1894. "^Cf. Cunningham, Growth of English Industry and Commerce, 1892, I, 74. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION " 4I and upon the standards of efficient workmanship, the larger oppor- tunity was at hand for invention and improvement. The history of the guilds reveals an evolutionary process, gradual in its changes, but cumulative in its results. The following illustration clarifies this point: "The system pursued at present in the tannage of sole leather is the result of an evolutionary process, depending upon the selective ability of the tanners themselves. No scientific dis- coveries have helped them, and the basic principles of their art have never received attention." ^ In this trade it is difficult to isolate the contribution of the individual in the evolution of invention. Ex- amples of more revolutionary innovations, arising in the process of occupational activity, may be cited. The great inventions of the eighteenth century in the textile industry were made for the most part by men actively engaged in the process, by spinners and weavers. Hargreaves, who gave us the spinning-jenny, was a "poor weaver." ^ Crompton, who combined the principles of the water-frame and the jenny, had been a spinner from boyhood.' Arkwright, a barber, and Cartwright, a clergyman, inventors re- spectively of the water-frame and the power-loom, did not succeed in perfecting their inventions until they familiarized themselves* with the textile industry. The fact^" that the invention of the sjpinning machinery was left to spinners, the fact that the harvester was conceived and perfected by farmers, are only added proof of the role of division of labor and the concentration of attention in inven- tion. The consideration of the differentiation of occupation by age, sex, and aptitudes indicates the importance of the development of group attitudes for enforcing the cleavage of interests and activities upon which early technical progress was based. A further stage in social evolution gave rise to a new line of division. c) The rise and survival of a leisure class is not simply an economic or social phenomenon, it is fundamentally psychic. Veblen in his book, The Theory of the Leisure Class, makes a study of the origin and development of the mental characteristics of this group. '^Twelfth Census, loc. cit.. Ill, 733. 'Rand, Economic History, 1892, p. 38. ^Dictionary of National Biography, XIII, 148. ^Ibid., II, 82; IX, 221-22. loPhilips, op. cit., pp. 472-73. 42 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION Whether or not he has proved his thesis that the psychological ex- planation of the leisure class rests upon the consciousness of the invidious distinction which attaches to non-workers, he has at least demonstrated that the existence of the leisure class is provided with double psychic safeguards, first of all, by the mental attitude of this group itself, and secondly, by the attitudes of imitation, rever- ence, fear, and envy manifested by the masses. The leisure class was responsible for the first steps in scientific development. This group was not only an efficient agent in con- serving tradition and in adopting innovation, but also a mudh freer medium for the play of individual initiative and originality. Writ- ing, second only to language as a tool of thought, was slowly evolved from its crude picture forms by the leisure classes of three nations. All the higher religions and moral systems, Judaism, Buddhism, Confucianism, Mohammedanism, and Christianity, were the prod- ucts of "the classes" in society. Philosophy and logic, all the fine arts, arise, as in Greece, in favorable conditions, under the fostering protection of a- class free from the grubbing care of existence. The development of mathematics and of astronomical calculations reaches a high stage under conditions where the succeeding genera- tions of individuals add their contributions to the conserved incre- ment of knowledge. d) The leisure class is, of course, a vague phrase which in- cludes a heterogeneous congeries of groups, those which impede as well as those which promote improvement. Professor Tyndall has made the following classification of groups necessary to advance technical development: "(1) the investigators of natural truth, whose vocation it is to pursue that truth and extend the field of dis- covery for its own sake; without reference to practical ends; (2) the teachers who diffuse this knowledge; (3) the appliers of these principles and truths to make them available to the needs, the comforts, or the luxuries, of life. These three classes ought to co-exist and interact." ^^ In our discussion of the scientific group, we shall not again emphasize the function of diffusion, but confine our attention to the interdependence of the scientific discoverer and the practical applier. Iri modern times the significant social differ- entiation has occurred in the evolution of a new group, the scientific "lies, op. cit., p. 274. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 43 circle, the primary aim of which is the discovery of knowledge by the experimental method. The chief characteristic of the scientific group is a certain feeling of freedom from the practical application of its activities. This boyish "don't care" attitude of the scientist is secured only by free- dom from pecuniary anxieties and responsibilities. The existence of a leisure class, safeguarded economically, enabled certain of its members to devote themselves exclusively to intellectual pursuits and the acquirement of knowledge. The establishment of universities made possible the stricter separation of the scientific from the leisure class in general. The organization and the standards of the scientific group are peculiar and significant. The social bond between scientists may be quite impersonal and attenuated; the printed page need be the only means of communication. A Wallace without academic train- ing may catch the cold inspiration of science through the medium of its literature and achieve standing in its circles. The human nature of scientists is not so different from that of other people, but it is organized in a distinctive way. Ambition and rivalry are under tenser constraints than among the members of other groups, because the advancement of verifiable knowledge rather than the fortunes of a group is the end in view. Indications are multiplying that the ideal of science is to encourage a genuine co-operation of its members for the promotion of discovery. Cooley gives an admi- rable statement of the relation of the scientist to his group. "Science, as a social institution, is farther-reaching, and more accessible to those fitted to share in it, than is any other institution. Since the invention of printing and the consequent diffusion of books, the scientific men of all nations have formed a single co-operating group, enabled to co-operate by the facility of communication and by the exact and verifiable character of their work. . . . Compared with the artist, the man of science is cold, and can carry on his pursuits with but little emotional support from his immediate sur- roundings. Letters, journals, and the notice of his work by others in the same line of research suffice for him." ^^ This independence of the scientist of his immediate surroundings and his dependence on his group is vital for the promotion of pure i2"Genius, Fame, and the Comparison of Races," in the Annals of the American Academy, IX (1897), 3S4-SS. 44 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION science. His indifference to popular applause or condemnation is necessary for original investigation and his susceptibility to group praise or blame furnishes the required stimulation and criticism. Darwin says, "I can say with truth, that in after years, though I cared in the highest degree for the approbation of such men as Lyell and Hooker, who were my friends, I did not care much about the general public. I do not mean to say that a favorable review or a large sale of my books did not please me greatly, but the pleasure was a fleet- ing one, and I am sure that I have never turned one inch out of my course to gain fame." ^' Not only does the scientist forego the applause of the grand- stand ; he must turn his back on the "main chance." The man whose life-values are in terms of dollars and cents is not likely to be inter- ested in the composition of matter, nor to devote his life to the study of the constitution of the atom. The economic interest in the scien- tist is sure to be subordinated to the intellectual interest. "Knowl- edge for knowledge's sake" is not a crowd-drawing slogan. Accord- ingly, this attitude of indifference to the practical application of a discovery, rooted as it is in the play instinct, is not likely innate, but acquired. The lives of many scientists exhibit decisive proof of this group attitude. Harvey was "notoriously open-handed, indiffer- ent to wealth, and constitutionally incapable of driving a bargain." ^* Sir Humphry Davy, indeed, made a practical application of his knowledge in the invention of the safety-lamp, but he de- clined^" pecuniary compensation and never patented it. Our own Professor Henry was opposed to patenting his inventions on the ground^' that he did not think it "compatible with dignity of science to confine the benefits ... to the exclusive use of any indi- vidual." The scientist, like the football player, prefers the com- mendation of his team-mates to the plaudits of the grandstand. The importance of the scientific group for discovery is that the attention functions for mediate, rather than for immediate, control of life. "Knowledge is power," and the presence of a group for the promotion of knowledge vastly increases the potential resources ^^Life and Letters, I, 66-67. i*Power, William Harvey, 1898, p. 38. "Holland, op. cit., pp. 136-37. ^•Crabtree, Marvels of Modern Mechanism, 1901, p. 531. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 45 of society. The fact that the advancement of knowledge is no longer dependent upon the immediate, practical application makes possible the accumulation of a great reserve store of ideas which facilitates the social adjustment to an unexpected crisis. This mediate utility of knowledge, however, is never strong enough to appeal to the popular imagination. Public recognition of the utility of scientific discovery is gen- erally retrospective rather than anticipatory. Years spent on the observation of the tarnishing of silver or the twitching of the frog's leg seemed as much a waste of time as the classical scholar's devotion of his life to the study, of the dative case in Greek. Yet the former "useless" researches were the origins of photography and telegra- phy.^' Pasteur spent several years of his life in the apparently profitless study of crystallization, but the outcome^' of this investi- gation was the study of fermentation, and the final result was the discovery of the cause of many baffling diseases and the cure for hydrophobia. The electric light was a 'scientific toy for three-quar- ters of a century before it found practical utility for lighting pur- poses. Geissler and Crookes tubes were little more than a scientific wonder until Rontgen discovered^® that the cathode rays consist in part of X-rays w^hich will readily pass through the human flesh so as to cast shadows of the bones upon a photographer's plate. The inevitable conclusion to be drawn from these facts is that scien- tific discovery has depended for support, not upon popular demand, but upon the intellectual interest of a small fraction of the popula- tion. In the division of labor in modern society, the practical appli- cation of discovery generally falls to a distinct group of workers, namely, the inventors. In a sense, the practical inventor may be called the scientific middleman. This phrase emphasizes the two chief conditions for the success of the inventor. The practical applier is interested in the immediate utility of his effort, and he is dependent upon the results of scientific research. Striking illustrations of the dependence of the practical inventor upon scientific discovery are to be found in the invention of the electric light, the telegraph, and the wireless telegraph. It is difficult for us to believe that the electric light was discovered nearly half a century before Edison's birth, that the i^les, op. cit., p. 272. "/6,-rf., p. 273. "/fcid., p. 198. 46 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION telegraph of Morse was but the practical application of a laboratory experiment, or that Marconi gave only the finishing touches to an invention which had almost reached perfection at the hands of a group of men. The first electric light was the brilliant flame produced at the moment of separation of two pieces of charcoal attached to the termi- nals of a powerful voltaic battery — ^the discovery^" of Sir Humphry Davy in 1809. The first incandescent lamp with a platinum burner, devised by Professor Grove in 1840, was little more than a laboratory toy, though five years later August King patented an incandescent lamp with unsealed platinum burner. The practical utilization of electricity for light had to wait upon the development of electrical generation. The discovery of magneto-electricity by Faraday^^ in 1831-32 was followed by the endeavors of many inventors in the development of the magneto-electric machines and the perfection of the dynamo. The appearance of an efficient dynamo at once made the perfection of electric lighting feasible. The advantage of the Edison lamp over its rivals was in the employment of an inexpen- sive bowed filament of carbon sealed in a vacuum. Edison's contri- bution is not to be overlooked; it constituted a rare triumph of inventive skill, based on an accident, but completed only after the most extensive search over three continents and after indefatigable experimentation. Yet the facts that his title to the invention was the result of a vacillating series of contests in court, that it de- pended upon the efforts of a long line of men between Sir Hum- phry Davy and himself as well as upon the perfection of the dyna- mo, disclose that the perfection of the electric light was in reality the reduction of a scientific discovery to practical application by a series of men. The telegraph, like the incandescent light, was a co-operative invention. While the idea of communicating through distance by electricity is conceded to Morse, it is instructive to understand to what extent he borrowed from others. The telegraph consists of three essential parts : the battery and conducting wire, the electro- magnet, and the receiving and the transmitting instruments. Only the third element represents Morse's contribution ; all the remainder he obtained from the scientific store. The origin of the battery goes '"Byrn, Inventions in the Nineteenth Century, 1900, p. 63. »mid., p. 48. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 47 back to Galvani's experiments on the muscular contraction of a frog's legs by electrical stimulus generated through contact with two metals, and to Volta's immersion of alternate zinc and copper plates in an acid solution. The powerful electromagnet of Professor Henry^^ was the lineal descendant of Oersted's coil through the multiplier of Schweigger and the work of Ampere, Arago, and Sturgeon. As early as 1831, Professor Henry had succeeded in reproducing mechanical effects at a distance, such as the tapping of a bell. Morse, making free use of all these discoveries, under the inspiration of his idea, contributed the remaining element which was to identify his name with the invention of the telegraph, namely, the Morse register and alphabetical code. With the rapid advance in the control of electricity, the invention of telegraphy was merely a ques- tion of individual priority. Indeed, Morse's first claim to the inven- tion is disputed^^ by Steinheil of Germany and by Cooke and Wheat- stone of England. The history of the wireless telegraph is the most astonishing case of an invention almost wholly achieved by scientists, when the daring entrance of an interloper into the ring made wireless transmission practical over long distances and brought world-fame to the youthful inventor. Clerk Maxwell's formulation of the electromagnetic theory of light furnished the theoretical foundation for the utiliza- tion of the ether as an electric medium. To Heinrich Hertz, a young German scientist, whose brilliant promise was cut short by death, belongs the imperishable, honor of having demonstrated as early as 1888 that electric waves exist in a vacuum. His apparatus, a loop of wire with the ends almost touching, constituted the most primitive form of the wireless receiving instrument. In 1890 the invention of the coherer by Professor Edward Branly, in 1894 the appearance of the combined oscillator and coherer of Professor Lodge, and in 1895 the attachment by Count Popoff of a vertical conductor to Lodge's receiver and the connecting of the other side with the ground mark the significant scientific steps toward wireless telegraphy. Marconi's contribution to wireless telegraphy consisted merely in connecting a second vertical conductor to the transmitter.^* Mar- coni's title to the invention of wireless telegraphy shrinks then to the fact that he was the first to reduce to practice the idea of the ^^Byrn, op. cit., pp. 18-19. 23/6trf, pp. 21-22. ^*Ihid., pp. 26-29. 48 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION commercial utilization of the Hertzian waves. As a matter of scien- tific history, he was the last and least of the workers whose contri- butions made wireless telegraphy feasible. The conclusion to be derived from the consideration of the devel- opment of the electric light, the telegraph, and wireless telegraphy is inevitable. Modem invention is a co-operative process. Further inquiry would reveal the fact that it is impossible to assign full credit for any new process or new product. The bicycle, or the automobile as we know it, is the result of the labors of hundreds and of thousands, rather than of tens of men. "The locomotive," says Stephenson, "is not the invention of one man, but of a nation of mechanical engineers." "^ We can do little more than to separate the contributions of inventors into groups.^* First, as we have seen, there is the scientific genius who discovers new forces, new elements, new means of control. Then there is the great inventor who reduces to practice such conceptions as a steam engine, a locomotive, and an airship. Finally there is the professional small inventor, who con- fines his effort to devising improvements and to perfecting inven- tions. All these three functions are necessary for the advance of human welfare. The inter-mental relations between the three pro- cesses are vital. If practical invention is to follow fast upon the heels of scientific discovery, certain preconditions are necessary. The first of these is increased popularization of knowledge. The second requirement is a closer co-operation between the scientific discoverer and the practical inventor. The third requisite is the conscious provision by society for the promotion of origination. We might reduce these demands to one formula: the fullest possible opportunity for personal participation in the scientific knowledge and mechanical practice of the twentieth century. This, however, is again a phase of socialization. This particular function of socialization must become conscious and organized. Invention has been left too much to the haphazard chance of spontaneous growth. The process is co-operative; its efficiency will be increased by the evolution of a more perfect mechanism. e) The present trend toward the organization of scientific dis- covery and practical invention has demonstrated the value of con- scious social control of origination. ^sQuoted in Vierkandt, op. cit., p. 19, note. 28Du Bois-Reymond, Erfindung u. Erfinder, 1906, pp. 162-64. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 49 In America, attention until recently had been almost exclusively absorbed in methods to promote the diffusion of knowledge. Our entire public-school system, culminating in the college, was ►designed to instruct young America in the culture and the knowledge of the past. A new movement was instituted in 1876 when Johns Hopkins University introduced the graduate school to promote research work, and to provide training for original effort. This early attempt was widely imitated, and the underlying idea has been developed on a larger scale. Probably the most significant step toward the promo- tion of scientific discovery was the foundation of the Carnegie Insti- tution for Original Research, in Washington, under an endowment of ten million dollars. The Smithsonian Institution, the Rockefeller Institute for Medical Research, and the Russell Sage Foundation are among the indications in American scientific life of the recognition of the fact that research is becoming more and more co-operative, and should consist of organized, rather than haphazard, co-operation. Such an organization for co-operative research work, correlated with an improved system of diffusion, would represent the highest integra- tion of inter-mental communication and of reflective socialization ! , While America is becoming conscious of the benefits of organiza- tion for research and for practical invention, Germany is enjoying the advantages of organized effort in industry. Wilhelm Ostwald states the situation as follows : "The organization of the power of invention in manufactures on a large scale in Germany is, as far as I know, unique in the world's history, and is the very marrow of our splendid triumphs. Each large works has the greater part of its scientific staff — and there are often more than a hundred Doctors of Philosophy in a single manufactory — occupied not in the manage- ment of the manufacture, but in making inventions. The research laboratory in such works is only different from one in a university from its being more splendidly and sumptuously fitted. I have heard from the business managers of such works that they have not infrequently men who have worked for four years without practical success ; but if they have known them to possess ability, they keep them notwithstanding, and in most cases with ultimate success sufifi- cient to pay all expenses." " In comparison with the magnificent showing of Germany's indus- trial organization for chemical research, the report on "chemicals" in "lies, op. cit., pp. 275-76. so THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION the Twelfth Census Report cited^* only 276 chemists in the establish- ments of this country. Yet this beginning is an indication of the trend in many American industries. Many manufacturing establish- ments have experimental departments where experts are employed at high salaries. For instance: "In the larger [sewing-machine] factories the experimental department is one of the most important and expensive. Here the inventor has every facility for developing new ideas and putting the results to preliminary tests. When, after a great deal of time and labor has been expended on an invention, and it has reached an apparently perfect condition, it is sent to a factory engaged in the class of work for which it is designed, and is thoroughly tested. If its operation proves satisfactory, a special plant of machinery is installed for the manufacture of the new machine or attachment, so that any number of duplicates can be made. After all this expensive preparation and experiment, the invention may be soon replaced by something better, and aban- doned!"^^ Similar illustrations might be obtained from many branches of industry. Mechanical, civil, and electrical engineering are professional departments of invention ; they exhibit the applica- tion of scientific principles reduced to an art. Conscious effort directed toward the organization of experimental departments and toward the establishment of technical institutions and professions indicates the crystallization of a social valuation of the importance of securing the practical utilization of the highest scientific knowledge. The principles underlying the movement are twofold: first, increased contact between theory and practice; and secondly, increased co-operation of effort in discovery and invention. No matter how artificial and attenuated may be the contact implicit in modern organization for scientific research and practical applica- tion, the mechanism of the process is to be found in the higher inte- gration of communication and co-operation, the twin expressions of socialization. Social organization, then, is an important factor in promoting or in retarding invention. The stable mental attitudes of the group, division of labor by sex and by trade, the development of a leisure class, the differentiation of a scientific group, organization for co- operative research and practical application are stages in mental and "Loc. cit., IV, 528. mUd., 417. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION $1 social organization. This process of development in the cognitive phase of the social life will not be complete until scientific knowledge is democratized, and until free opportunity is provided for each person to take part, to the measure of his ability, in the discovery and application of truth. St. Bernard saw clearly that progress was due not so much to the superior genius of innovators as to the sup- port and the opportunity guaranteed by the social organization. "We are as dwarfs mounted on the shoulders of giants, so that we can see more and further than they ; yet not by virtue of the keen- ness of our eyesight, nor through the tallness of our stature, but because we are raised and borne aloft upon that giant mass." ^° soPoole, in Social England (Traill and Mann, editors, 1905), I, 341. CHAPTER V ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION. III. SOCIAL STIMULI AND DEMAND Personal participation in the social heritage, the extra-organic equipment of the race, is necessary to secure a basis for innovation. The complexity and character of the social organization either extends or contracts the scope of personal freedom, the measure of opportunity, and the degree of possible efficiency and specialization — all big factors in determining the rate of the acceleration of progress. But another factor, conditioning invention and, like the social heri- tage and the social organization, also an aspect of socialization, is social stimuli and demand. While the social heritage affords the basis for the innovation, and the social organization accelerates or impedes progress, social stimuli and demand largely determine the direction and character of invention. For example, the technical preconditions for two possible inventions may be altogether similar, yet one materializes and is perfected, while the other is never con- ceived or else dies still-born. The explanation of this situation involves the analysis of this additional factor, namely, social stimuli and demand. The distinction between social stimuli and social demand is only relative. They are the two sides of the same shield. By group stimulus is meant all the intangible and tangible social influences which control the direction of the attention of the individual, arouse his interest, and determine his activity. By social demand is meant the entire gamut of group needs, unconscious as well as conscious, which impinge upon the individuals in the group. The stimuli are objective and more or less definite; the demands are subjective, but are mandatory if not always specific. 1. Social stimuli are of two kinds: natural and artificial. Natural social stimuli, praise and blame, fashion and fad, many eco- nomic advantages, are only slightly under rational group control. Artificial stimuli, such as rewards and special privileges, are arrange- ments sanctioned by the group and designed to direct the course of inventive talent. a) Under the natural social stimuli we shall consider those oper- ating in two situations : first, those arising in the thought-provoking 52 ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION S3 eddies of intimate social intercourse ; and secondly, those found in the deeper currents of the social stream. We can hardly overestimate the influences generated in the inti- mate face-to-face groups. By means of conversation, through the give-and-take of ideas, the horizon of the person is enlarged, his interests are widened, Kis attention is drawn to the needs of the group, his ingenuity is directed and stimulated. Accounts of the decisive influence of the intimate group upon invention are familiar. A chance debate on the possibilities of the invention of a weaving mill drew out the assertion from Cartwrigiht that the difficulties were not so great as in devising an automatic chess player,^ and finally led this argumentative clergymah to put his theory into practice. Ark- wright's attention was turned to textile inventions because he was brought "into constant intercourse with persons engaged in weaving and spinning," and because "inventions . . . were a constant topic of conversation among the manufacturing population." ^ That Whitney, a Yankee, should invent the cotton-gin was due to the faith^ in his mechanical ingenuity of the southern woman in whose home he was tutor. In all three instances the attention of men of mechanical genius was directed to a field of activity by reason of their membership in intimate groups. How far-reaching in every activity are the group influences! The standards of achievement are erected in the group; here the pace is set; records are established only to be broken. Personal ambition, envy, admiration, self-seeking are all placed under the social yoke to cultivate and to enrich the social field. The concrete process of human association for the twofold achievement of personal and group ends intensifies the socialization and results in important human achievements. This personal participation of the person in the life of the group is the means by which the individual secures for himself the heritage of the past and is fitted for a part in the co-oper- ative achievement of further advance. Socialization, then, in this aspect of a social environment furnishing the strongest possible stimuli for action, has a determining influence over the course of invention. iBurnley, History of Wool and WoolcomUng, 1889, p. 111. ^Dictionary of National Biography, II, 82. •Crabtree, op. cit., p. 637. 54 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION More definite, perhaps, but not more powerful, are the influences emanating from the scientific group. The scientific circle, in a pecu- liar sense, is an intensely intimate group. Here the intimate char- acter of the association is not entirely or exclusively based on its face-to-face character, although scientific gatherings and the relation of teacher and student afford opportunity for personal relations. The essential social bond is through the medium of the printed page. The anonymous character of the public created by the newspaper does not extend to the little group knitted together by scientific publi- cations. There is no editorial "we" in scientific journals to conceal the identity of authorship ; the contributors form a group whose effi- cient social stimulus is the common praise or blame and standing in the group. More intangible, but as significant for the play of originality, is the range of contact open to the individual. The psychic isolation of the person not only shunts him off the main course of progress, but makes his efforts a dead loss to the group. "By reason of poverty, geographical isolation, caste feeling, or 'pathos,' individuals, com- |munities, and races may be excluded from some of the stimulations and copies which enter into a high grade of mind. The savage, the Jegro, the peasant, the slum-dwellers, and the white woman are iiiotable sufferers by exclusion." * Physical isolation, in general, involves psychic isolation. The small community with its conventional or old-fashioned standards in literature, art, public speaking, religious appeal, is all too likely to furnish out-of-date copies to its young impressionable members. The social friction of contact with many types of men, the multitude of stimuli that attract the eye and the ear, the hustle and pace of business, are influences that cannot easily be escaped' in the thronging of people together. The sheer density of population, while the most obvious aspect of urban life, is by no means as significant for prog- ress as the secondary factors generally connected with it. In the study of the conditions determining the expression of literary genius — and they hold for technical genius as well — Odin discusses and analyzes these forces. Upon the basis of a classification of *Thomas, "Race Psychology," in the American Journal of Sociology, XVII (1912), 744. "Woolston, "The Urban Habit of Mind," in the American Journal of Sociology, XVII (1912), 602-14. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 55 "men of letters" according to place of birth as. in large cities, in small cities, and in the coimtry, he finds that while in general the relative fecundity of communities in the production of literary men varies with the density of population, other more significant factors are present which explain both the rule and the exceptions. These decisive influences w^hich bear no absolute relation to concentration of population* are the centralization of political, ecclesiastical, and judiciary administration in cities; the concentration of wealth in centers of population ; the urban residence of the leisure, intelligent, and wealthy classes ; and the presence of universities, libraries, and other educational facilities in cities. Similar to the influence of the intimate group upon the individual members is the stimulus of the life of the larger group upon the various groups within it. The intense phases of social activity have always impressed into service the best efforts of the individual and resulted in the significant achievements. The reason why the bow and arrow of the savage were highly evolved before the digging- stick was well on its way to the plow was because of the intense interest in hunting and fighting and the lack of stimulus in plant culture. The degree of interest in the hunt and the fight is not to be explained solely by reason of the hunting type of the human mind, but also by the social significance of these activities and the group recognition of distinction in them. Modern business, empha- sizing the value of a whole series of mentally uninteresting economic processes, has introduced stimuli into the perfection of the whole range of industrial activities. Over against the Watervliet Arsenal ■gun, once the most powerful in the world, and the mammoth ocean dreadnaughts may be placed the skyscraper and modern bridge con- struction as feats of engineering as great for industry as for war. Yet even today, organized society, because of the struggle for sur- vival and success, still places a high social valuation upon advance in military art. The telegraph, wireless telegraphy, the railroad, the airship, have been quickly adapted to warfare. The building of the Panama Canal was due as much to naval as to commercial policy. But war has a negative as well as a positive influence on invention. The advocates of peace would find comfort in the statistics of the *Odin, Genese des grands hommes, 1895, pp. 511-12; summary in Ward, op. cit., pp. 193-94. S6 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION United States Census which exhibit a marked decrease^ in patents during periods of war and financial depression. We turn now from a consideration of the general social influences of small and larger groups to a consideration of the more definite social stimuli. Fads, crazes, and fashions indicate irrational tenden- cies and crystallizations of the social mind which may, or may not, represent the actual needs of the group. Or individual appreciation of relatively unconscious group wants may offer the requisite impulse to the activities of the inventor. Fashions, fads, and crazes, though irrational and ephemeral expressions of the valuations of the group, have often played an important part' in the perfection of an appliance of limited utility. The bicycle could hardly have attained its present perfection had it been limited from the start to its practical use in transportation. But the social mind was affected by the quirk which we call a "craze," and afforded the necessary stimulus to inventive genius. In this con- nection, the fact is significant that with the collapse of the bicycle craze the number of patents applied for on bicycle parts imme- diately decreased. That obsession of the Dutch mind known as the "tulip craze" resulted in the development of an extraordinary num- ber of marvelous new varieties. Epoch-making inventions in the button industries followed the tremendous impetus, soon after 1875, given to the manufacture of composition buttons "by the fashion, then coming into vogue, of trimming ladies' garments lavishly with buttons, not merely for fastening purposes, but also for ornamenta- tion." * Amateur photography, a fad pure and simple, by multiplying demand has greatly stimulated inventiveness in photography. Thus, the most irrational and irresponsible play of the mental activity of the group has a not-to-be-despised role in stimulating invention. Many economic rewards, while not consciously presented by the group, stimulate invention. An appreciation by the inventor of the commercial possibilities of a certain new method or product is a lode- star in guiding his course. Edison ruefully confesses that the rejec- ^See chart in Byrn, op. cit., p. 463, with decrease of patents in the Civil War, Spanish-American War, and in the financial depressions of 1873 and 1893. 'Vincent, "Rivalry of Social Groups," in the American Journal of Sociology, XVI (1910-11), 481. 'Twelfth Census, loc. cit.. Ill, 322. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 57 tion of one of his earliest inventions, a vote-recording machine devised for the Congress of the United States, caused him to form" the resolution never again to waste efifort upon a non-commercial, though desirable, innovation. The normal course of action for the professional inventor is to study, first, what improvement would be profitable, then, in what way the improvement may be made. Even if the idea of a new improvement suggests itself, it meets at once with the question of its commercial advantage. So, then, all-im- portant is the appreciation on the part of the originator of the value of his innovation to the group. But this attitude of appreciation is in fact the dynamic aspect of the inclusive process of social valu- ation which is core and current of the socializing process. b) The stimuli afforded by fads and fashions and the apprecia-|, tion of the probable economic advantage we called natural, inasmuch | as they are relatively uncontrolled or uncontrollable by conscious | social action. As significant, then, as the stimuli afforded by the spontaneous activity of the social mind and by an estimate of eco- nomic values are the conscious and purposive stimuli, the rewards and the prizes which the group presents to its members. The patent systems of the various nations denote a conscious group effort to stimulate invention by awarding to the inventor a temporary monopoly in the manufacture and in the control of the use of the patented article or process. The objective results of such an induce- ment are evident. In this country bicycles, tricycles, manufactured ice, phonographs and graphophones, photography, the manufacture of sewing-machines, typewriters and supplies, electro-chemical pro- cesses, telegraphy and telephony, and others too numerous to men- tion, "are the creation of patents." ^^ Probably this statement is too sweeping ; the patent system is only one factor, though undoubtedly in all its indirect effects an indispensable one, in the origination and perfection of these great modem goods. At all events, this institu- tion for rewarding inventors is the outcome of conscious provision made by the national group for the purpose of creating economic prizes and rewards for the benefactors of mankind. We shall conclude the^ treatment of the role of social stimuli in invention with illustrations in proof of the proposition that many inventions apparently lack only the requisite stimulation to call them ^"Jones, Thomas Alva Edison, 1907, pp. 53—54. ^^Twelfth Census, he. cit., IV, 765. S& THE FUNCnON OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION into existence. In the instances to be cited the element of social valuation is central and vital. "Thus the greatly increased produc- tion and consumption [of rice] among the civilized countries and the technical requirements of a fanciful trade" which have resulted in "the great advancements in the methods [of cleaning it] in recent years" " are but the outcome of social developments, some technical, as in means of communication and transportation, others cultural, as in taste and habit. The great advance in the utilization of by- products occurred when men of initiative, ingenuity, and energy appreciated the commercial possibilities which large-scale production and the enlarged market had brought to the old "waste." Nasmyth's invention of the steam-hammer followed almost immediately upon the suggestion that such an instrument was needed by the Great Western Railroad Company. " 'In little more than half an hour,' " runs the inventor's account of his invention, " T had the whole con- trivance in all its executant details before me in a page of my scheme book.' " ^' In many cases a pecuniary reward is ofifered in connection with the suggestion urging the particular invention. Rewards promised by the state exhibit the highest possible integration of the process of social valuation. The record held by France for the first I manufacture of oleomargarine is due to the fact that Napoleon III induced" the war office to offer a prize for the best substitute for butter. The publication of a reward by the French navy depart- ment for a method of preservation of foods for sea service stimu- lated Nicholas Appert^" and led to the discovery of the method of hermetic sealing. The appreciation of the worth of a new product and the conscious stimulation by sugges^tion and promise, by rewards and prizes, are influences which must be kept in mind in analyzing the factors involved in invention. Before passing to a discussion of the influence of social demand upon invention, it may be well to sum up the effect of social stimuli in drawing out inventive genius. Social stimulus, whether in the intimate circle of acquaintances, in the wider contacts of occupation, of the streets, and of literature, or in scientific and professional ^'Twelfth Census, loc. cit.. Ill, 568. »»In the Scientific American, XCIX (1908), 238. ^*Twelfth Census, loc. cit.. Ill, 520. «/6«. cit., p. 291. 62 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION This historical account of the dependence of the great industrial inventions upon the pressure of economic demand may be supple- mented by a logical demonstration. The chief characteristic of practical mechanical invention is the introduction of economy into an industrial process. When the market of the spinner is limited by both the local production and the demand of the local weavers, and at the same time the market of the weaver is only local, it is obvious that there is slight stimulus for increased productivity. The moment that a national or foreign market is open, localization of industry follows with specialization of processes and diversity of products. But when the market becomes world-wide, the economic oppor- tunities of increased production become apparent, and the advantage of mechanical, labor-saving devices is obvious. We shall now con- sider how the impact of the world-market on the English textile industry affected the concrete act of invention. While the mediate and fundamental causes of the great inven- tions were, as has been shown, the concentration of a world-wide demand upon English manufacturing, the immediate and apparent causes are to be found in an explanation of economic demand as it operates in the coincidence of inventive genius with maladjustments in the productive process. The first of the great industrial inven- tions in the textile industry and the one which entailed all the others was the mechanical shuttle devised by John Kay in 1738, which doubled the productive powers of the weaver. Why, according to the theory of economic demand and industrial maladjustment, should the first invention occur in the weaving process ? A strong objection to the theory supported here is that before the advent of the fly- shuttle, the weaver could, with difficulty, keep himself supplied with yam. Why, then, did not the improvement occur first in the spin- ning process? The answer is simple. A priori it is quite evident why the significant inventions should be made, first, in weaving, next, in spinning, and last of all, in the preparation of the raw prod- uct for spinning. First of all, the growing force of demand would exert its strongest pressure upon the final process in the manu- facture of the raw material into the finished product, that is, upon weaving. Then, too, the advantage to be gained by increased pro- duction would naturally accrue to the weaver, while the increase in the productivity of the individual spinner and carder would in al! probability result in the decrease of the income of the latter. More ORIGINATION AS A FTOJCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 63 important than all, the individual spinner was in a position to realize the advantage of his personal increase in productivity, even if the trade as a whole was already suffering from a lack of yarn. Finally, the fact that weaving required a higher development of skill and ingenuity suggests that the first textile invention would occur in this process. Whatever may have been the combination of factors which resulted in the fly-shuttle, its efifect was to intensify the maladjust- ment in the processes of the textile industry and to make necessary the next invention. The dpubling of the productivity of the weaver left the spinner hopelessly in arrears. The family of the weaver could no longer furnish him sufficient yam; often he must call on five or six spinners in the morning to supplement his supply. The maladjustment became so serious that it rose into the social con- sciousness, and the social attention was riveted on finding a solution for the problem. "In 1761 the Society of Arts published an adver- tisement offering a reward of £50 and £25 for the best and second best 'invention of a machine that will spin threads of wool, flax, hemp or cotton at one time, and that will require but one person to work and attend it' ; and the records of that society show that several spinning machines were in response submitted for its approval." ^° So the attention of many men was engaged upon the problem of devising improved mechanical means of spinning, when Hargreaves, a carpenter and a weaver, in 1770 patented^^ the spinning-jenny, invented by him three years earlier. Improvements followed fast. By 1771 Arkwright had not only succeeded in perfecting the "water- frame," a device for spinning by rollers, but in employing it in a mill.^' Finally, in 1779, a spinner near Bolton — Samuel Crompton — combined the principles of these two inventions in a hybrid product, nicknamed the "mule," which effected so enormous an increase in spinning that in 1811 the inventor found^* more than four and one- half million spindles worked upon the mule in English factories. These three inventions again inverted the balance of production ; the spinning-mule overtook and outdistanced the fly-shuttle. The 25TayIor, Introduction to a History of the Factory System, 1886, p. 410 ; see also Baines, op. cit., p. 154. ^^Dictionary of National Biography, XXIV, 381. ^'Baines, op. cit., p. 153. ^'Dictionary of National Biography, XIII, 149. 64 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION English weavers, until now in dire need of yarn, were unable to utilize the enormous quantity of the machine-spun weft, and wit- nessed^' with futile protest the export of the surplus yarn to their continental competitors, who were now in a fair way to supply their own markets. This huge surplus of yarn and the exigencies of foreign competition again engaged the national consciousness and drew out inventive genius. By chance, one of the many conversa- tions over the difficulties of the situation forcibly called the attention of an ingenious clergyman and Oxford graduate to the problem.^" After three years of weary experimenting, Cartwright produced a practical power-loom for weaving. Economic demand finally effected improvements in the first stage of the process of cloth manufacture, namely, in the preparation of the raw material for the market. In the case of cotton, it was in accordance with the law that invention occurs within an occupa- tional activity, or within familiarity with it, that the invention of the cotton-gin should come from America. This reduction of invention to a special case, governed by the laws of demand and supply, omits, of course, a consideration of the other conditions, psychic as well as social, insisted upon above. Nevertheless, with the dominant influence of demand in mind, with the prior failures or half-successes which made possible the more fortunate inventions, we cannot say : without Cartwright, no power- loom ; without Watt, no steam engine ; without Stephenson, no loco- motive.*^ The relation of cause and effect seems here to be wonder- fully simple. Kay's flying shuttle, doubling overnight the weaver's productive power, demanded an immediate increase in the spinner's output. Hargreaves' spinning-jenny, Arkwright's water-frame, and Crompton's mule, immediately increased eightfold the spinner's productive power and tantalized the weaver with a surplus of yarn. The power-loom of Cartwright restored the fluctuating balance by the introduction of mechanical weaving. Moreover, the advantage ^'Cunningham, op. cit., II, 473. 8»Baines, op. cit., pp. 229-32. ^^Artistic creation defies reduction to the economic principle of demand and supply. We can point out the social conditions of Shakespeare's plays and Milton's poems, but we cannot say that without Shakespeare, a great Elizabethan drama, or without Milton, a gr^t Puritan epic would have been produced. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 6$ of machinery was accentuated by the substitution of the controllable steam engine for the uncontrolled water wheel as motive power. Yet the steam engine might long have waited perfection had it not been for its obvious service in coal mining. Just here the double relation between steam as power and coal as fuel comes in. Owing to the destruction of the wood supply, the steam engine would have been useless without coal, while various processes of coal mining were extraordinarily facilitated by the steam engine. The transpor- tation of coal to market and centers of population demanded a more efficient transit system, and canals and railroads arose to meet the demand. With the perfection of the coal-driven railroad steam engine to haul coal, we have the nineteenth-century means of trans- portation. The conclusion is irresistible that the introduction of machinery, the employment of the steam engine as motive power, the utilizing of the locomotive and steamship as means of transpor- tation, rest not so much upon the inventive ingenuity of man as upon economic demand and the exigencies of industrial development. This survey of the causes underlying the great inventions in the textile industry is signal proof of the law of mechanical invention enunciated by Rogers. "Invention is stimulated by a widening j market, checked by a narrowing one." *^ Economic demand is the | significant force that determines the direction of the inventor's activities, and which rewards his efforts. But economic demand and the inventor's appreciation of its significance are really only the public and the individual phases of social valuation which is the inclusive process.^^ Thus the inter-mental organization of the group operates as a constant force in the industrial activity, making for improvements and labor-saving devices. Before summing up the results of the study of the role of socialization in scientific discovery and mechanical invention, a brief glance at the more universal aspects of invention may assist in orienting us. In the first place, the element common to all inven- 1 tion is valuation or the apprehension and appreciation of the value | of a hitherto unutilized method, instrument, or product. This state- 1 ment does not mean that all valuation is invention, but that the con- sciousness of value is a fundamental element in the invention process. *^0p. cit.. p. 284. '^See Cooley, "Valuation as a Social Process,'" in the Psychological Bulletin, IX (1912), 441; also "The Institutional Character of Pecuniary Valuation," in the American Journal of Sociology, XVIII (1912-13), S43-SS. 66 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCUL EVOLUTION And this value in practically all instances has an origin or a refer- ence beyond the person. Then, too, the criterion of invention is social. It is logically possible to assume the existence of a totality of possible human acts and of possible products of human activity. In the history of humanity, a great many of these activities have occurred, many of which have become stereotyped as habits of skill and have been acquired afresh through imitation and education by each generation. Certain forms and products of activity have become definite and fixed and remain as part of the cherished heritage of the race until super- seded by objects and methods of greater human value. These means of the promotion of activity, tools, language, institutions, ideals, all the technique of control, constitute the cultural equipment of the race. Those modes of action which merely expressed the whim of the individual and were useless or unappropriated by the group are improvisations and not inventions. Those which meet the approval of the group, that "strike us as a new and fruitful employment of the common material,"^* we judge as original and inventions in the true sense. Invention, then, is not only an evalu- ative activity, but its criterion is social and it is the product of the process of social valuation. Goethe has confessed this dependence of the loftiest intellect upon the common social life. "The greatest genius would be worth- less without external aids. . . . What have I done? I have gathered and used whatever I have seen, heard, or observed. I have laid claim to the works of Nature and of man. To every one of my writings a thousand persons and a thousand different things have contributed. Old and young, gentle and simple, wise and foolish, have brought their quotas. Mostly without being aware of it, they have bestowed on me their thoughts, their faculties, and their expe- riences, sowing the grain that I have reaped. My work is an assemblage of essences which have been derived from the course of Nature. This bears the name of 'Goethe.' " ^^ This statement expresses in vivid language the now commonplace of social psycholo- gists that the individnal is but a function of the group. The genius and the mediocre person are alike dependent upon the nurture of society. Lack of participation in the social activities, in the interests »*Cooley, Human Nature and the Social Order, 1902, p. 272. »*Hirsch, Genius and Degeneration, 1896, p. 40. ORIGINATION AS A FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION 67 and the fund of knowledge, may limit the extraordinary individual, while intimate contact with the current of social experience may greatly magnify the possible achievements of the mediocre person. In conclusion, we may make a brief resume of the ground covered. The chief generalization of the study is that the evolution of technique in its processes of invention and discovery is socially con- ditioned, is in fact a function of socialization. The survival of an innovation requires group appropriation, which is at bottom a social valuation, an inter-psychic process. Then the factors that enter into invention, aside from the neural equipment of the individual, all center about the intimate relating of the person to the social life. Access to the social heritage, the possession of a point of vantage in the social organization, sensitiveness to social stimuli, and apprecia- tion of economic demand : all involve in one way or another personal participation in the mental life of the group. The conclusion is inevitable that socialization, the participation of the person in the thinking, feeling, and action of the group, is indispensable to dis- covery and invention. We now turn to a consideration of the wider role of socialization in social progress. Socialization, we see, is fundamental to technical achievement. But is it the all-inclusive, central process of all human evolution, making for continued social progress? PART II THE ROLE OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL PROGRESS CHAPTER VI SOCIAL PROGRESS Socialization is not a mere accompaniment of material civiliza- tion, nor is it an absolute goal toward which social evolution is moving by its own momentum. On the contrary, the socializing process is functional and relative to the group situation. By func- tional, I mean that socialization is dynamic and not static in human progress, that it plays an effective part in social change. The rela- tivity of socialization signifies that the coarticulating of individuals into the social consciousness and social will of any given time tends to assume a form which is functionally related to the contemporary group situation. In the preceding chapters we indicated that social organization or the mental interrelation and interaction of the mem- bers of a group is an essential condition to progress ; it is now our purpose, not only to indicate that socialization plays a dynamic role in human evolution, but also that the socialization of the individual is of qualitatively different types in different historical periods and within different classes, and that the criteria of socialization are relative to the group situation within the limit permitted by human nature. The concrete basis for the support of this further step in the thesis is to be found in the resume of the history of a people viewed as a process of socialization. The outstanding facts of social evolution in England, as presented in the recent social and industrial histories, have been selected to illustrate the character of socialization in the typical stages in human progress. No claim for originality in the presentation of this material is made except in so far as its interpretation from the standpoint of socialization may give a new meaning to old facts. At the outset of the argument, I venture a general classification of the different types of socialization according to the social and industrial organization of the diflferent epochs : (1) The blood-tie was the social bond of the earlier social aggregates, whether of the maternal or of the paternal type. (2) Then association character- ized by personal relations gave the dominant impress to social life, as in the village manor and in the town guild. Feudalism exhibits the culmination of this type of social organization. (3) Finally, 71 72 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION impersonal relations have determined the stratification of society. Capitalism may be regarded as the climax of an evolution based upon the impersonal ties of economic interest. In offering this classification of periods in English social organ- ization, it is essential to guard against certain misconceptions. In the first place, the separation of the social stages is not rigid, like the Comtian three stages in intellectual development. All that is meant is that in general at one stage of development the family type of organization characterizes all industrial and social life; at a later stage the community type of organization has displaced the family type as a dominant economic and social form ; while in the modern period impersonal arrangements have supplanted both the com- munity and the family type of organization. In the second place, we recognize that in other classifica.tions the stress may fall elsewhere in the socio-economic activities. For instance, emphasis upon industrial production might afford us the following stages of transition in means of technical control over nature i. in the first period, hand and tool ; in the next period, manual skill; in the present age, the machine, largely determines psychic type. If we consider exchange as the dominant industrial activity, we have a triple series of economic relations based on barter, money, and credit. If we fix our attention upon the typical concrete aggre- gations of population, we have the tribal settlement, the village, the town, the city, as the representatives of the successive epochs. Or it may be pointed out that the type of socialization and of class strati- fication was characterized in primitive times by blood-relationship, then by the possession of land and skill, as now by the control of capital. To these we may add Comte's classification of social stages from military through legal to industrial, and his famous stages in intellectual evolution — ^the theological, metaphysical, and positive. In fixing our attention upon the character of social arrangements, we by no means would ignore these other aspects of social evolution, but believe that they are to be best studied in their relation of cause and effect to the type of human association. In the third place, the three forms of socialization are not mutually exclusive. In all ages, kin, personal, and impersonal ties unite men in groups. Indeed, the most cursory survey of modern social life would indicate that all three types of organization are observable in contemporary social and industrial life. The family SOCIAL PROGRESS 73 persists, though deprived largely of its economic function, as a vital social unit for the realization of basic human values. The com- munity life in villages and towns still flourishes, but without the old significance for agricultural and industrial enterprise. The various experiments in communistic organization, even though aided by powerful religious support, have been on the whole short-lived and have left little or no impress on industrial organization. It is evident that the transition from the communal economy of the tribal family to the impersonal organization of the factory system has been accompanied and made possible by a change in social type. There is, of course, a general resemblance between the chief of a tribe, the mediaeval baron, the Elizabethan merchant, and the modem coal magnate, just as there is between the tribesman, the mediaeval serf or journeyman, and the modern proletarian. But the difference between the mental attitudes of these types is as marked as are the changes in the social and industrial world in which they lived. Whether social progress has been accompanied by or has required a better type of man depends largely upon our definition of the terms ; but, at any rate, the course of the centuries appears to have progres- sively demanded that men adjust themselves to increasingly more complex situations and fit into more complicated human relations, as the economic world has expanded from tribal, village, and town, to national and international relations, as national politics have widened the circle of participation from despotic king and barons to a landed and commercial aristocracy, and at last practically to manhood suf- frage, as religion enlarges the scope of personal participation from ritual observance to individual salvation and to social service. The weekly and daily newspaper, popular elections, modern business, to speak of only three universal influences, have compelled the indi- vidual in living his life to take into consideration an ever-widening circle of human beings. At this point it is necessary to say a word in order to guard the conception of the psychic change which takes place from generation to generation. Biology has withdrawn^ its endorsement of the the- ory of the transmission of acquired characteristics. Contemporary ethnology, while not denying the existence of special racial differ- ences, is throwing the weight of its support to the position that the law of parsimony requires that no ethnic variation be attributed to iThomson, Heredity, 1908, chap. vii. 74 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION racial inheritance, which admits of an explanation in terms of social heritage and group environment.'' In other words, the position of the scientific world at the present time is that the acquired char- acters of men are socially and not physically transmitted. Accord- ing to this view, the servility of the European peasant, the inde- pendent speech and manner of the American farmer, are to be re- garded, not as inborn characteristics, but as acquired by imitation, suggestion, and experience, in reaction to specific social and physical environments. '"Variations in cultural development can as well be explained by a con- sideration of the general course of historical events without recourse to the theory of material differences of mental faculty in different races." — Boas, The Mind of Primitive Man, 1911, p. 29. CHAPTER VII THE KINSHIP STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION The matriarchal type. — The first perceivable stages of socializa- tion in Britain up to the conquest by the Anglo-Saxons find their explanation in the conflict of two peoples, the tall, fair-haired Aryan Celts or invaders and conquerors, and the small, swarthy Iberian natives. The tendencies of the social process set up by the subjec- tion of these stone-using aborigines to the metal-ax wielding in- vaders afford the crude outline of the main process of future evolu- tion in spite of the complications introduced by Roman rule, by Anglo-Saxon settlement, by the Danish incursions, and by the Nor- man Conquest. A working conception of the resultant social organi- zation of Iberian and Celt is, therefore, essential to an understand- ing of the modifications consequent upon racial dominance. It is only within the last few decades that the historians have given us anything but a confused impression of the social changes which have taken place among the masses in England. The Roman conquests of Britain, the extermination of the Celt by the Teuton, the Danish inroads, and the Norman Conquest had been described with detail of persons and of battles, but with only vague reference to the condition of the slave, serf, peasant, and yeoman, and the effect of these larger political occurrences upon the intimate social and industrial life of the people. The work of Dawkins, Elton, and Rhys has given us the beginnings of more exact knowledge of the prehistoric inhabitants of Britain, while Seebohm, Vinogradofif, Maitland, and others have made our knowledge far more definite concerning the actual social and industrial relations in the village and manorial communities. When Julius Caesar made a landing on the British shore in 55 B. c, several waves of Celtic immigration had already passed over the island. Amid all the complexity of the resulting situation, sev- eral points stand out clearly. In the first place, the Neolithic na- tives may have been cruelly decimated, but they were not destroyed.^ In some districts, the tribes probably retired before the invaders. In certain remote and isolated parts, the Aryan invasion did not 'Rhys, op. cit., p. 276. 7S 76 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION penetrate. In northern districts, for example, the Iberians held out against the invader. But where the natives were compelled to bow before the conquerors, although a few of the conquered may have been impressed for servile personal duties, the investigations in Scotland, Ireland, and Wales indicate'' that the old village com- munity was not broken up, but entered into a tributary and depend- ent relation to the victorious Aryan tribal group, and especially to the family and tribal chiefs as representing the group. Only glimpses of the life of this prehistoric Neolithic race are available to us, so our reconstruction of its social organization and socialization wiH intentionally err on the side of simplicity. We must picture to ourselves, in the words of Sir Henry Maine, "a territory occupied by village communities, self-acting and as yet autonomous, each cultivating its arable lands in the middle of its waste, and each ... at perpetual war with its neighbor." ' The socialization of these Iberian communities appears to have rested upon the ties of maternal blood and the tribal totem,* though taking its particular form from economic and military experience, with reference, first, to the food quest, and secondly, and of more importance, to the offensive and defensive measures against the neighboring communities. We may surmise that the matriarchal organization presents the features made prominent by the researches of ethnologists, the reckoning of descent in the female line, the position of husband more as guest than as member in the maternal household, the ranking of uncle or brother, rather than father or husband, as the executive head of the mother clan. In all prob- ability, the men watched the flocks or pursued the game in the forests, while the women were weavers of coarse cloth and pottery-makers. The latter also were probably the main tillers of a portion of the common waste upon the hillside and hilltop; for with only stone axes, the Neolithic tribes had made but little progress in clearing the forests in the valleys. If the common pursuit of game and the collective digging of the ground tended toward co-operation based on the equality of indi- ''Skene, Celtic Scotland, 1880, III, 16ff. ; Rhys and Brynmor- Jones, The Welsh People, 3d ed., 1902, pp. 12, 35; Vinogradoff, Growth of the Manor, 1905, p. 25. ^Village-Communities, 3d ed., 1876, p. 192. ♦"Probably they were at first a totemistic community, and their totems may still survive in the local nicknames of Celtic localities — such as the pigs of Anglesey, or the goats of Arvon." — Edwards in Social England, I, 6. THE KINSHIP STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 77 viduals, the exigencies of warfare made for organized co-operation stamped by the emergence of the tribal chief and the beginning of his dominance in the group. Dawkins compares the social condition of the people in this period with that of the tribes of Central Africa at the present time. The inter-tribal warfare led to the ascendancy of the chief "whose dominion was limited to the pastures and culti- vated lands protected by his font, and extended but a little way into the depths of the forest, which were the hunting grounds common to him and his neighbors." ° How much farther social differentiation was carried by the re- sults of inter-tribal conflict is a subject only for venturesome and profitless speculation in the present state of knowledge. Aside from absolute hostility, the only relation between the tribes that we may safely posit is the institution of the market. Sir Henry Maine says: "At several points, points probably where the domains of two or three villages converged, there appear to have been spaces i of what we should now call neutral ground. These were the Mar-' kets. They were probably the only places at which the members of the different primitive groups met for any purpose except war- fare, and the persons who came to them were doubtless at first per- sons specially empowered to exchange the produce and manufac- tures of one little village community for those of another."* This, then, was the type of socialization founded on the primi- tive democracy of the maternal group, and upon the growing ascend- ency of the chief, due to the necessities of efficient organization in the continuous inter-tribal conflicts. The social bond is the tie of maternal blood together with a subordination to the chief relatively strong on the warpath, but weaker in the internal affairs of the group. Relying chiefly upon magic for the control of nature, sub- ject to taboos sometimes functional, but always arbitrary,' in the lowest stages of acculturation or the assimilation of the culture of neighboring groups, these small tribal groups were not as far ad- vanced politically, socially, or industrially as the Aztecs at the time of the Cortez Conquest. The possibilities potential in the social process instituted by this inter-tribal warfare and economic ex- change were, at any rate, not permitted to develop far; for the "Dawkins, Early Man in Britain, 1880, p. 283. ^Op. cit., p. 192. '"Dion Cassius mentions their strange refusal to eat the fish with which British rivers were at that time swarming." — Gibbins, op. cit., p. 11. 78 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION Goidels first and later the Brythones, both Celtic races, successively overran the island and instituted a more complex social process which set up that interaction of superiority and inferiority which has determined the main processes in English social evolution. The patriarchal type. — The socialization of the aborigines of Britain has been described above in its simplest reconstruction as the joint product of the strongest instinctive ties and of the co- operative activities of the hunt and inter-community warfare. But the socialization of the Celt when he reached Britain was already developed on the Aryan pattern, and an understanding of its pri- mary characteristics is a necessary preliminary to the study of its modification under race contact. We shall, therefore, first describe the social mind of the Celtic invader as it found concrete expres- sion and further development in the mode of settlement, in land- holding, in the interrelations between the individual and the group, and in religious rites. The superiority of the Celt over the natives was marked in two ways : by the use of metal tools and weapons, and by the union of persons according to male descent. The result of superior techni- cal control of nature will be treated later; the character and effect , of Celtic social organization will receive first attention. "There can be no doubt," says Professor Vinogradoff, "as to the ruling prin- ciple according to which Celtic society was arranged; it was the union of persons descended, or supposed to be descended, from the same ancestor through males, the union of agnatic relations." ' Even in the primitive groups based upon maternal descent there may exist a more or less strong tendency to utilize the actual preponderance of the male as the organizing principle in social organization. Among the Celts, as with the Aryan races in general, this tendency had over- come the resistance afforded by the primordial matriarchal group- ing. Among the forces making for agnatism were' the natural supe- rior strength of the armed sex in the primitive community, the desire of the male to gain exclusive control of the woman, particu- larly as the growing importance of agriculture increased her eco- nomic value, the settlement in separate households with its tend- ency to permanent marriage and to the establishment of patriarchal authority in the household. *0p. cit., p. 7. *Hid., p. 12. THE KINSHIP STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 79 The earliest written records concerning Britain indicate that these Celtic Britons were divided into at least twelve" separate tribes occupying, distinct parts of the island. Professor Seebohm's study of the Cymric tribe has given us a quite clear conception of the socio-political, as well as the economic organization of the tribe. The tribe "was a bundle of . . . kindreds bound together and interlocked by common interests and frequent intermarriages, as well as by the necessity of mutual protection against foreign foes." ^^ The organized tribal unit, with its chief and other officers, was the kindred constituted by "the descendants of a common ancestor to the ninth degree of descent." " Each kindred was divided into fam- ily groups, each with its head man. Thus, Celtic society had three distinct degrees of rank above the tribesman:** the head of the family group, the chief of kindred, and the tribal chief or king. The force of the tie of paternal ancestry as a social bond and its ramifications throughout Celtic tribal society are best observable in its concrete manifestations in the mode of settlement and in land- holding. The powerful tendency for the family to keep together as long as possible finds striking expression in the two general modes of settlement, namely, in tribal houses and in hamlets. In some cases all the members of one large family dwelt together in the large dwelling-ihouse, "adapted for the joint occupation of a number of tribesmen living together. The great hall, opening between trees, the boughs of which met to form the roof of the house, was the common room and the dining hall of the whole household, and in the aisles on the right and left of it lay the beds or compartments of the families which constituted it." ** The more usual mode of settlement, however, appears to have been to provide the young man at marriage with a small separate dwelling easily constructed by the members of his kin group. Often the dwellings were collected together into a small hamlet, which in some cases included only the members of a large family, but, in other cases, the larger kindred group, grouped according to fami- lies. "In all," concludes Vinogradoflf, "the strong influence of the agnatic group on the arrangement of the rights of its component "Cheyney, Industrial and Social History of England, 1901, p. 4. iiSeebohm, The Tribal System in Wales, 1895, p. 61. "/6«U, pp. 61-62. >«/6td., pp. lOS-9., "Vinogradoff, op. cit., p. IS. 8o THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION households is making itself felt — by settlement in tribal houses, by the clustering of dwelling-houses into villages and hamlets, and by the scattering of them for the purpose of their pastoral occupa- tion." " The characteristic feature of land tenure, to quote the same writer, was "the idea that every head of a household ought to be put on an equal footing with the men of his generation within the gwely."'^' He shows in detail how this idea was carried out in practice: "Theoretically the founder of the gwely was considered as if he had effected the first settlement on the land, and taken pos- session of the whole of that land. At his death each of his sons got an equal share with his brothers; if, for example, there were four sons, four shares were formed in the gwely; if, after a time, one of the sharers, say A, died, leaving two sons, these last entered provisionally as half-sharers for the part which their father had held, so that instead of four shares there were henceforth three full (A A \ — > — ' B, C, Dy Suppose B died leaving three sons, and C, leaving four, as long as D was alive the division would be into one full share, two half-shares, three thirds, and four fourths (-> -, -, -, -, ^, ^, -, ^, d)- But on D \2 23334444 / dying and leaving, say, one son, the whole apportionment would be readjusted, each of the cousins forming the third generation taking one-tenth share of the whole gwely. By the same pro- cess the shares of the great grandsons of the founder would be formed inside their fathers' lots as long as there was a single mem- ber of the third generation alive, but on the death of the last grand- son, the second cousins would redivide the whole into, say, twenty equal shares. . . . The appeal to the gwely of the original founder was barred after the fourth generation, the process of equal- ization going on nevertheless, but starting theoretically, not from the first founder, but from every one of his sons ; though in practice many of the gwelys must have held out longer. Of course in order to carry out such a system people had to reclaim new land and to send out the surplus of the population when the conditions of settle- i^Vinogradoff, op. cit., p. 16. ''■^Gwely, "family homestead" or "family holding," literally "bed." See Seebohm, op. cit., pp. 8-9. THE KINSHIP STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 8 1 ment got tight. . . . Originally, as is fully established by the surveys, attributions of real allotments were not practised: . . . what was meant was the admission of more or 'fewer' persons into a community, and the appreciation of their respective shares in the concern." " This system of control of land through the heads of families, together with the rules governing its use, exhibits to us in concrete and objective form the advanced type of the socialization which constituted the Celtic social bond. The psychic community under- lying the arrangement is manifestly affinity in blood and association through origin from one and the same household. The conscious object of the group appears to be to recognize the right of every bom tribesman to a share in the tribal territory by reason of his membership^' in a particular family and kindred. This conception of the value and use of land expresses the feeling of a kin group of free warriors^* who embodied the strength of the group in inter- tribal conflicts. The functional value of the family holding as an economic unit is made clear by the basis that is afforded by it for a collective equipment of each kin settlement. "This is the comple- ment of a lawful trefgordd (family hamlet) : nine houses and one plough and one oven and one churn and one cat and one cock and one bull and one herdsman." ^^ Settlement and land cultivation show us the typical structural cast of the Celtic mental community ; the joint responsibility of the kindred for the crimes of the kinsman"^ indicates still more clearly the organic solidarity of tribal society. Responsibility for crime was not individual, but mutual. Kindred to the ninth degree of descent were liable^^ to the payment for homicide committed by any kinsman within this relationship. For insults and less* serious in- juries, the circle of responsibility extended only to second cousins. Superseding blood-feuds based on the law of absolute hostility, these compositions for injuries must have given the individual firm support in his relations outside the kindred. "In those days of vio- lence, the mutual insurance of powerful combinations of kindred I'Vinogradoff, op. cit., pp. 20-22. »8/6»U, p. 18. "/6trf., p. 24. zoSeebohm, Tribal Custom in Anglo-Saxon Law, 1902, p. 36. 2iSeebohm, Tribal System, pp. 77-81. "/6id., pp. 77-86. 82 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION was not only the means of checking, to a certain extent, lawless- ness and greed, but, as we can judge at a glance from any barbaric code, it provided a machinery which was constantly in motion, and which impressed the mind of the people more than any other insti- tution." 2^ For crimes committed within the kindred, the responsibility was individual, not mutual. "Three persons [are] hated by a kindred:" records the Gwentian Code, "a thief, and a deceiver, and a person who shall kill another of his own kindred; since the living kin is not killed for the sake of the dead kin everybody will hate to see (him." ^* Thus the hatred of the kin group was the highest penalty for genticide or the murder of a clansman; for the kindred per- ceived with instinctive logic that blood-vengeance in this case otily doubled the offense against the kin bond. But if the anger of the kindred flamed too high against the criminal, he might with their consent surrender the right of kinship. By thus breaking his kin he became a kin-wrecked man, or a stranger without the group. But still so strong is the bond of blood-relationship that his descend- ants to the ninth generation are protected in their full kinship rights. Only so abhorrent a crime as the murder of the chief of kindred sufficed to break^* absolutely the tie of kinship. Not only in the mode of settlement, in tribal landholding, and in mutual responsibility for crime is the socialization of the com- munity organized about blood-relationship, but the religious rites of the household center around the sacredness of kinship and the symbolism of the hearth. "An analysis of the customs which at- tended the primitive hearth cult shows us that the sacred fire on the hearth was never allowed to go out; that the ritual attendant upon marriage, birth, and death centered round the sacred fire; that offerings to the ancestral god at the hearth were made from the food of the household; and that the hearth represented to its early worshippers the source of all their happiness and pros- perity." ^' Not only is the hearth the center of the worship of ancestors and of the ritual of life, but it is also the symbol of family worship and inheritance. The technical term for the recovery of inheritance **Vinogradoff, op. cit., p. IS. **Seebohm, Tribal System, p. 58. 2«/6id, pp. SS-S9. 2«Gomme, The Village Community, 1890, pp. 129-30. THE KINSHIP STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 83 was dadenhudd or the re-uncovering of the paternal hearth. More- over, the fireback-stone, with the mark of the kindred upon it, was the witness^^ to the rightful possession of land and homestead. The associations which gathered about the hearth as the objective sym- bol both of the right of participation in the tribal inheritance, and of psychic unity through membership in the household and the kin- dred, powerfully assisted in merging the individual into the group and in strengthening the agnatic articulation of society by the force of folk-sentiment and religious sanction. The individual appears to us submerged in the kin ; but, in real- ity, the freedom of the individual is only possible and so far pos- sible as blood-relationship gave him a standing within the kindred and the solid support of his kinsmen to the world without the tribal group. This subjection was not so much of the person to the tribal group as the mental interdependence of all the kinsmen, the func- tion which we call the folk-mind, that inter-mental process at once an effect and a cause of the activities of past generations. This membership of the individual in a community reaching back to past generations through idiom, myth, and custom was powerfully effec- tive in controlling the activities of his daily life and constitutes the real significance of the subjection of the individual by the group. It is difificult to determine just to what extent the more efficient agnatic organization of the Celt was a factor in the subjugation of the native matriarchal groups. It is certain, however, that the pos- session of superior tools and weapons was of decisive value in the contests with the Neolithic aborigines. Yet the superior technique of control over nature secured to the invader by his bronze and iron ax had a tendency to adjust the conflict of interests between the hill-dwelling Iberian and the valley-settling Aryan. With his metal blade the Celt cleared the forests for his settlement and was con- tent to leave the less desirable hilltop land"* to the tribute-paying non-Aryan community. In time the cultivation of the hilltops was discarded and the dependent groups occupied the less desirable tracts of land in the valleys. This relation of the Celt tribal com- munity to the inferior pre-Aryan group instituted a social process, the main factors of which, to repeat, are still operative in English social and industrial evolution. 27Seebohm, Tribal System, p. 82. 28Johnson, Folk-Memory, 1908, pp. 278-82. 84 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION The crux of the relationship of the natives to the Celtic con- querors was that only a fraction of the former were reduced to per- sonal slavery, while the remainder were grouped in small settle- ments within the tribal territory under the control of the tribal chiefs or the heads of kindreds and of family groups.^' For the very reason that possession of slaves was undoubtedly confined to a minority of the freemen, slave-owners naturally attained special prominence within the kindred.^" This tendency to differentiation was doubtless augmented by the fact that it was the influential men of the tribes, that is, the heads of kindreds and households and especially the king and his immediate followers, who were likely to profit from the exactions upon the serf communities. The emergence of the powerful man, or lord, beyond the limits of lead- ership recognized in the tribal grouping, instituted the beginnings of a conflicting type of social organization. The free youth began to look for maintenance to the strong man in the kindred, rather than'^ of yore to a participation in the landed rights of his family group. The contribution for the support of the chief and the tribal king was levied alike upon the free tribal group and upon the serf community. Our knowledge of the extent to which the second Celtic invasion may have carried the "feudalizing" of the free, as well as of the unfree communities, rests upon the interpretation of brief Roman'^ statements, although Professor Seebohm'* is inclined to emphasize its tendency in that direction. But at all events a work- able conclusion would be that while a growing concentration of political power in the hands of the tribal king and of the prominent men in the kindred was required in the interests of military effi- ciency in the inter-tribal conflicts, even this exploitation of the kin- dred was concealed under the old forms of kin relationship, and fell upon the family group rather than upon the person, and that to the individual the assurance of his economic status and the guar- '"Vinogradoff, op. cit., p. 28; see Seebohm, Tribal System, pp. 116-18. '"Vinogradoflf, op. cit., p. 28; but see Rhys and Brynmor- Jones, op. cit., p. 12, who state that the Goidels "subjugated the natives, and made slaves of them." ^^ Seebohm, Tribal System, p. 6S. *'Such as Caesar's milites and servi with definite Roman meanings, per- haps not applicable to Celtic social arrangements. ""Villeinage in England," in the English Historical Review, VII (1892), 46S. THE KINSHIP STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 8$ anty of mutual protection based on membership in a family group were still the dominant forces controlling his activities. The three hundred years of Roman occupation seem to have introduced little qualitative change in the social" and economic or- ganization of the mass of the inhabitants of Britain. Although Roman towns grew up around the military camps, and the upper classes of the Britons were quickly Romanized,^* the greater pro- portion of the population was relatively untouched by the artificial urban life. Even the villas and great Roman estates in Britain were confined to restricted areas, and for that reason could have had no general effect upon the landholding system. At the most, the Roman occupation only accelerated the tendencies already in progress, namely, the differentiation and separation of the upper classes from the tribal society, the equalization of the condition of the Celtic tribal group with that of the pre-Aryan community, and, doubtless, in certain districts, the amalgamation of the two racial stocks. It is evident that these tendencies were unequal : strongest no doubt in the southeastern part of the island and progressively weaker toward the west and the north. Consequently, no uniform- ity^^ of conditions arose: for on the one side were Italian villas and Roman municipal government ; on the other, tribal arrangements almost unmodified by Roman administration. Undoubtedly, an ac- commodation took place between the Roman with his ideas of politi- cal government and absolute individual ownership and the Briton with a tribal system based on personal freedom and a communalistic practice in landholding. But on the whole, to quote Professor Vinogradoff's conclusion, "The rural arrangements of the Roman period seem to have been to a great extent determined by Celtic antecedents." ^° As Gomme sums up the matter, "Rome left the village communities of Celtic Britain like England would leave the village communities of India, untouched in their inner life, but crystallized in form by the pressure from without." ^' So, then, from first to last, the distinctive socialization of the Celtic inhabitants of Britain was based on the bond of blood-rela- tionship. The characteristic features of Ceftic social, political, and economic life were determined by the union of heads of families into kindreds bound together into a tribe. The functional value of 3*Richards, in Social England, I, 24. ''Ibid., p. 87. ssVinogradoflF, op. cit, p. 83. "Op. cit., p. 292. 86 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION a community knit together by the consciousness of kin lies in the powerful solidarity afforded by it to groupings of moderate size. This t)rpe of socialization was adapted to the early conditions which confronted a half-pastoral people engaged in the migratory con- quest of tribes of a lower technical equipment and of an inferior social organization. The ties of kin, while effective for local con- centration and tribal arrangements, do not readily bear the strain of an inter-tribal centralization of power. Social cohesion secured by blood-relationship was in two ways a hindrance to the larger union of the inhabitants of Britain. In the first place, the Celtic tribes in Britain never united into a permanent confederacy or coalesced into one people. Their inveterate tribal divisions facili- tated, if they did not make possible, the Roman invasion. In the second place, the pre-Aryans who comprised a majority of the popu- lation did not become an integral part of Celtic social organization. The Aryan pride of blood forbade intermarriage; then, too, the barbarian culture of the Celt was not adapted to that efficient con- trol of a subject people required by a system of slavery or of serf- dom. Tendencies toward a transition from the tribal system founded upon kin ties to political arrangements based on personal relations have been noted in pre-Roman and especially in Roman periods. This movement, however, was largely within the old forms of the kin-relationship and by no means superseded the rural tribal ar- rangements. Personal relations, however, apart from those based on kinship, tend with the English settlement powerfully to weaken the bonds of blood-relationship ; with the Danish invasion, definitely to reshape the economic and social arrangements ; and with the Nor- man Conquest, finally to complete the feudalization of society. CHAPTER VIII THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION I. THE FEUDAL TYPE By a society organized on a basis of personal relations I mean a\ social and economic order which rests upon intimate association j rather than upon kin ties or upon impersonal relations. Typical' forms of a social organization characterized by personal ties are the old agricultural village and the mediaeval town : the first organized around landholding ; the latter around division of labor and special- ization of skill. For example, after the Norman Conquest, the Eng- lish social constitution was an aggregation of nearly 10,000 practi- cally self-sustaining agricultural village communities, each under the personal authority of the lord of the manor, the tenant-in-mesne of the baron, who was the tenant-in-chief of the king. In the wihole series of gradations from the king at the apex, to the slave, cotter, and villein at the base of the social order, the personal relation of man to man was the social cement which gave organic stability to the structure of society. At a later period, the towns became significant for national economy. Their merchant and craft guilds were eco- nomic and political organisms whose individual cells functioned as a whole because of the definite personal relations of the market and the shop. This social mutation from the simple social form of tribal relation in which the chief is "first among equals" to the more com- plex and diflferentiated social form of the manor and the town where the lord of the manor or the guild-master exerts personal control over dependent workers involved an enormous psychic re- construction. Our first task is, therefore, to analyze the psydhic changes which accompanied the transformation of the tribal bands of Angles, Saxons, Frisians, and Jutes, superimposed upon the sjigihtly Romanized Celtic tribes, into the feudalized England of the eleventh and twelfth centuries. We shall then proceed to a resume of the origin of the towns and the psychological aspect of their organization. The feudal type of personal relations. — The evolution of the English economic and social unit — the agricultural hamlet com- munity — from the family to the personal type of organization was determined by the accommodation within it of the English settlers and the subdued British villagers under the external pressure of the 87 88 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCUL EVOLUTION Danish invasion and the Norman Conquest. The British agricul- tural communities at the time of the English settlement varied in form from the tribal hamlet but little modified by Roman supremacy, to the groupings, on a personal basis, of the half-servile workers who tilled the country estates of the Roman or Romanized master. At all events, the family cast of the British social organization had been somewhat fractured even in the remotest districts. The psychic organization, not only of the Celtic tribes, but also of the Teutonic immigrants, was of the "kin set" analyzed above. Lamprecht thus describes the social and psychic organization of the German hundred: "The tribal communities turn out to be not simple, but complicated formations. They consist in a number of hundreds, and in these the German actually lived. And the hun- dreds bear distinctly a genealogical character, are at bottom great families or clans. In the family, therefore, is the German quite at home; it encircles him with its uninterrupted life, and within this he is accounted only a specimen, not an individual ; he is subject to the system of blood-vengeance with the psychic point of view, which puts every individual on exactly the same level; in his per- sonal preferences, in friendship and enmity, he is bound by the bonds of family life ; he appears to the outsider, and according to our views also in purely personal matters, as if he were interchange- able with any of his equals, as if he were but a function." ^ What, then, were the influences which changed the hundred from a family to a community association? 1. Even if the landholding system of the Germanic tribes had once conformed precisely to the communal organization and the democratic government of a group of families as stated by the ad- vocates of the mark theory ^ at the time of the emigration of the Anglo-Saxons this primitive village community had developed tend- encies toward the personal relations of dependence characteristic of the later manorial system.* Undoubtedly, household servants ac- companied their masters in the settlement of Britain.* ^What Is History r 1905, p. 46. 'Vide Seebohm, English Historical Review, VII (1892), 465. ^The Saxon, Frisian, and Thuringian system on the Continent provided for the threefold division of classes above slaves (VinogradoflF, op. cit., p. 123). *Stubbs, Constitutional History, 6th ed., 1897, I, 78. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 89 2. Not only a social tendency already present, but also the previous British agricultural arrangements may have tended to accelerate the organization upon the basis of personal ties. See- bohm" believes that the Roman villa with its relations of personal dependence did not disintegrate before the devastating Saxon, but was the mold in which was cast the rough outlines of the later manor. Certainly, it is not beyond reason to agree that where the villa was a predominant form of agricultural and social arrangement, the Saxon chief may have displaced the Roman or Romanized land- lord.* But the evidence does not show that the absolute individual system of landholding was general. At any rate, the contact of Saxon and Briton in the community required an adjustment, and the weight of evidence indicates that in the enforced adaptation of the weaker to the stronger' is to be found the beginnings of the dependent feudal relationships. 3. The kinship grouping of the Anglo-Saxon folk gradually gave way to organization around personal relations. Settlement by groups of kindred is at first a predominant, but later a decreasing factor in village life. Place-names indicate that the first settle- ments were largely effected by groups of families or by kindreds on land allotted to them after a victory.* In the first centuries after the settlement, the "solidarity of the kindred" was the prevailing medium of social control,^ and determined, not only the mode of settlement, but also the system of land tenure and the political activi- ties of its members. The hide, the unit of landholding, originally signified "family land," ^^ and seems to have been the customary share of the head of the household of the warrior-farmer upon whose industrial welfare and military efficiency Anglo-Saxon politi- cal and military organization depended. While we cannot ignore the wide-reaching and persistent influences of the agnatic union of rela- tives in the formation of Old English society, we must remember that '^Tribal Custom, pp. 518-19. 'Powell, in Social England, I, 122. 'On the contrary, Maitland inclines decidedly to the Germanic position of extermination or expulsion. (Domesday Book and Beyond, 1897, p. 222). ^Vinogradoff, op. cit., p. 140. *Seebohm, Tribal Custom, p. 499. iiiVinogradoflf, op. cit., p. 141. 90 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION from the first the personal following of the king and the chieftains was a significant factor which introduced a counter-tendency in social organization which was soon to counterbalance, and finally to outweigh the political and social influence of the kin relationship. 4. The circumstances of the Anglo-Saxon settlement naturally tended to loosen the old tribal arrangements. Old habits were broken up; the hold of a successful leader over the imagination and obedience of his followers became stronger than kindred ties. A band of war-liking men, distinct from the nation in arms, gathered about the king and the powerful chieftains and "remained as a separate organization partaking of the characteristics of a court, a guard and a standing division of the army."^^ Even in times of peace, when the military followers were living away from the court upon royal grants of land, the personal tie^" that bound them to their lord would, at a moment's notice, bring them to his side to quell an uprising or to repel an incursion. Then, too, the manner of migration wrought serious injury to tribal custom. The Celts had come to Britain in solid tribal blocks, but the Teutons crossed the sea in small detached bands, which, in the checkered course of settlement, intermixed in such a way as to loosen the cohesiveness of the blood-bond. The Celts had settled in tribal hamlets, wihich coalesced, where Roman influence was strong, into villages dependent upon the large estates. The Anglo-Saxons, desirous of keeping to- gether both for mutual aid and for superior control of the subju- gated Britons, promoted ^' this movement toward augmented group- ings of the rural population. The effect of the larger social group was to weaken the ramification of kin ties by promoting the growth of neigihborhood relations. The village came to be more than an enlarged hamlet; it made possible a social organization united by personal, as distinct from blood-ties, and facilitated a more efficient utilization of the land by a more definite allotment of the rights and obligations of individuals. 5. But the strongest internal force making for the growth of personal relations as an organizing principle in community life was "Vinogradoflf, op. cit., p. 217. "Ibid., p. 127. ^•Vinogradoff, op. cit., p. 145. Also cf. : "The outlines of our nucleated villages may have been drawn for us by Germanic settlers, whereas in the land of hamlets and scattered steads old Celtic arrangements may never have been thoroughly effaced." — Maitland, op. cit., p. IS. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 9 1 the requirements of the open-field system of cultivation. The effect of the technique of cultivation upon community life is to be under- stood in connection both with the mental attitude of the settlers and with the mode of settlement. "In some cases they fitted them- selves into the agrarian framework that they found; in other cases they formed villages closely resembling those that they left behind them in their older home. But to all appearance, even in that older home, so soon as the village was formed and had plougihed lands around it, the strips into which these fields were divided were owned in severalty by the householders of the village. Great pains had been taken to make the division equitable; each householder was to have strips equal in number and value, and to secure equiv- alence each was to have a strip in every part of the arable terri- tory." ^* These arrangements for equality of shares in the holding point to the natural mental attitude of a group of kin or of a band of comrades bent on assigning to one another absolutely equal shares in the land allotted to them in common. All the require- ments of the occupational activities of the villagers growing out of this system of landholding made for the development of personal and neighborly, as opposed to hamlet and family, ties. Since the possessor of a hide, or family holding of approximately 120 of these acre strips, owned and utilized a full plow-team of eight oxen, the smaller landowners, the men with perhaps only one ox and a bovate of land, or with two oxen and a virgate, must club together to provide the full number of oxen for the plow. The control of the agricultural arrangements was in the hands not of the individual, but of the group. "The seasons for the commencement and the in- terruption of work, the choice of the crops to be raised, the sequence in which the different shots and furlongs had to be used, the regu- lations as to fencing and drainage, etc., were not a matter of private concern and decision, but were to be devised and put in force by the community." ^^ - The problems of pasture, meadow, and forest, even such questions as the distribution^" of the manure, required community regulation and control and indicate that in industrial life personal relations are becoming more important than family ties. As Vinogradoff puts it, the open-field system necessitated "con- i*Maitland, op. cit., p. 346. "VinogradoflE, op. cit, p. 182. "/&iJ., pp. 181-82. 92 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION stant co-operation between neighbors" and "entailed a solidarity of the members of each household within the unit." " The factors described above, namely, a social tendency away from family ties, the influence of the Romanized British villa, the loosening ties of kindred, the exigencies of conquest and settlement, the requirements of the open-field system of cultivation — all worked from within the community for the development of personal demo- cratic relations. For the reason that the relative effect of each , factor was widely variable with the locality, the total result was multiformity rather than uniformity of village life. Two factors, not yet considered, but of tremendous socializing force, operated from outside, but with a quite constant quantitative force upon each village community for the development of graduated personal rela- tionships of superiority and inferiority. The introduction of Chris- tianity and the strain of Danish invasion affected human relations quite similarly in every Anglo-Saxon village. The decision to accept Christianity from Rome rather than from Ireland brought England into contact with the western nations and into the intellectual and spiritual community of mediaeval civilization. The desperate struggle of the English under Alfred and his successors against Danish barbarians accomplished by means of military and fiscal organization for efficient defense and payment of tribute what inter- tribal contests had failed to achieve, namely : the external unity of England for national self-preservation and survival. Both influences worked powerfully to break down the tips of kinship and locality and to reorganize society on the basis of personal relations and national sentiment. This statement of the impetus to socialization, if not to be reckoned a glittering generality, requires for its support a summary of the positive social effects of the introduction of Chris- tianity and of the pressure of foreign invasion. In the very nature of its organization the Anglo-Saxon church made for the development of a social class antagonistic to the claims of kinship. "The fundamental difference," says Cunning- ham, "which underlay all the questions between the upholders of the Scottish and Catholic usages at Whitby, was due to the fact that the one Church was organized on this tribal model, and the other on the territorial system whidh had come into vogue in the rest of Christendom." '* "0/-. cit., p. 165. "0/>. cit., I, 65, note. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATIO^f 93 The hesitating acceptance of Christianity by the courts of the little English kingdoms and the gradual enforcement of it upon the mass of the people did not constitute the significant aspect of the labors of Augustine and his successors. For at best the Anglo- Saxon church "was a form of Christianity with a strong admixture of superstition and formalism," and her chief doctrines were "the worship of saints and relics, submission and liberality toward the clergy, due observance of imposed penances and fasts." " Green gives a forceful statement of the advantage to England of close men- tal contact with the guardian of the achievements of ancient civiliza- tion. "Had England clung to the Irish Church it must have remained spiritually isolated from the bulk of the Western world. Fallen as Rome might be from its older greatness, it preserved the traditions of civilization, of letters and art and law. Its faith still served as a bond which held, together the nations that sprang from the wreck of the Empire. To fight against Rome was, as Wilfrid said, 'to fight against the world.' To repulse Rome was to condemn Eng- land to isolation."'" The fact that England looked to Rome rather than to lona for spiritual guidance had important socializing effects in providing for the participation of the sons of barbarous fathers in the cultural and intellectual life of the Middle Ages. The external consequences are the more obvious. The house of the bishop became the school for the children of thanes. Monasteries were established where the learning of Rome was taught to the sons of the worshipers of Thor and Odin. Princes and priests, impelled by piety and attracted by report, made pilgrimages to Rome. The internal effects are even more significant. The opening of a new direction for personal development in strong contrast to the military spirit of the age created a new social type. Strange it was that from the first the cowl should compete, seemingly on equal terms, with the sword for the noblest in blood and the most ambitious in disposition! Bene- dict Bishop, a king's thane, born before the conversion of Northum- bria by the Irish missionaries, abandons the world at twenty-five years of age and "sets out for Rome." The career of Wilfrid, a man of energy and self-assertion, rivals for interest and adventure I'Gneist, Constitutional History of England (Ashworth's trans., 1885), I, 85. ^"History of the English People, 1878, I, 57. 94 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION that of any redblooded and headstrong hotspur of his time. At seventeen years of age, the fever for Rome seizes him with an irre- sistible force; only a little over twenty years of age on his return, he is the principal figure in the crisis at Whitby. Appointed to the bishopric of York, he maintains his position with a magnificence and an influence that engenders the jealousy of the king.. Exiled in consequence of his indignant denunciation of the partition of his diocese, he escapes the murderous traps of his enemies and carries his quarrel above the head of the ardhbishop to the pope. Finally, after winning the admiration of Christendom by his conversion of the South Saxons, the last heathen English kingdom, he is restored to his bishopric. The life of Guthlac of the royal house of Mercia illustrates the extreme influence of the church. After nine years spent in the private feuds of the time, the youthful freebooter ex- periences a sudden change of interests and betakes himself to a hermit's cell in the eastern fen country. During his lifetime, crowds of devotees make his solitude a place of pilgrimage; in death, an imposing abbey marks his resting-place. In quiet contrast with the spectacular career of Wilfrid and the "stared at" asceticism of Guthlac, the life and work of Bede exhibit the best type of monastic life. His own account of his life breathes the tranquillity of his spirit: "I spent my whole life in the same monastery, and while attentive to the rule of my order and the service of the Church, my constant pleasure lay in learning, or teaching or writing." '^ But the influence of the church was not confined to the taking of the tonsure; the genius of an Alfred must have been one-sided in its development if shut out of the subjective environment which cor- related his interests and aims with the feeling and the thinking of the great men of the past. We cannot overestimate the importance of the monastery in mediaeval society. It was church, university, asylum in one. In later times it prepared for the professions of law and medicine as well as for the priesthood. The career of Dunstan, the statesman-prelate, suggests the reach of opportunity within the grasp of a monk. "It was the church," says Gneist, "which left it open to all classes to mount up, as their right, to the highest dignities of the land." " Thus the admission of the English to participation ^^Bseda, Historium Eccksiasticum, Book V, chap. xxiv. "O/-. cit.. pp. 96-97. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 95 in the mental and cultural goods of civilization had a great socializing influence on a small but dynamic fraction of the population. It is difficult to estimate the effect of Christianity upon the small freeholders, the serfs, and the slaves. Even though the worship of the Teutonic deities was discontinued, the old superstitious beliefs and practices doubtless survived. The segregation from the world of the religiously inclined, the small number of parish priests, even if men of human sympathy, in proportion to the number of parishes,'^ certainly do not indicate any effective grip upon the servile masses of the people. Yet the general socializing conse- quences of Christianity indirectly benefited the peasant. "The Chris- tian Church had begun gradually to exercise an effective control over all departments of life. . . . Not only did society become more orderly, but the enforcement of law and the security of property were favored by the exertion of the clergy. Nor was the laborer forgotten ; the traffic in slaves was greatly discountenanced, the lot of the serf was improved, and the worker came to enjoy a weekly holiday on Sundays." ^* Though the socializing effect of the church entered into the subjective environment of but a small fraction of the population, the creation of a new social class with a centralized and efficient organization provided a model for political organization and strengthened the ties of blood and the community of language and custom which already formed the basis for unity. In Anglo- Saxon times socialization spelled nationalization: the subordination of the interests of the individual to the national welfare. The church from the outset stood as an example of national organization, and by promoting native literature, worship, and song subtly created an emotional attitude toward the country of warlike king, martyred saint, and deathless story. Bishop Stubbs thus summarizes the nationalizing influence of the church over the minds of men : "The unity of the church in England was the pattern for the unity of the state; the cohesion of the church was for ages the substitution for the cohesion, which the divided nation was unable otherwise to realize. ... It was to an extraordinary degree a national church : national in its comprehensiveness, as well as in its exclusive- ness. Englishmen were in their lay aspect Mercians or West 23About 1,700 parish churches to 10,000 manors (Gneist, op. cit., I, 75). 2*Cunninghani, op. cit., I, 27-28. 96 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION 'Faxons; only in their ecclesiastical relations could they feel them- selves fellow-countrymen and fellow-subjects." ^^ Even when an external unity was achieved under Egbert and his successors, the adhesion of the church to the crown assisted the English kings in maintaining at least a loose authority over the nobles.^® The church also promoted the subjective unity of the people. Under the stimu- lus of Arthur priests and monks contributed to the development of English literature. The services of the church promoted national feeling. "The use of the native tongue in prayers and sermons is continuous ; the observance of native festivals also, and the reverence paid to native saints." ^^ The lower clergy of the church must have formed a large and effective proportion of the middle classes whose passive resistance to Norman influences secured final victory for English language and literature. While the Anglo-Saxon church was introducing a class based on personal relations and gradually promoting the growth of nation- alization, the Danish invasion precipitated a crisis which put to severest test the energies of the nation, and for purposes of efficient military defense and of taxation forged a series of military and eco- nomic personal relationships from king to thanes and bishops, from these to the lords of manors, and from these last to peasants and retainers, which tended to exalt the king and to debase the freeman. In this way, both the Danish incursion and the danegeld constituted a social pressure^* that acted powerfully to promote the breakdown of family ties and the growth of personal and dependent relations. Just before the beginning of the life-and-death struggle with the Danes, the kings of the West Saxons had succeeded in establishing a loose control over all the Anglo-Saxon people. The success of the Danish inroads at once demonstrated the inferiority of the national host as a military instrument for defense against an army of profes- sional soldiers. Moreover, the duration of the contest exhibited the s^Stubbs, op. cit., I, 267. ^°"The bishop clung to the crown, and the bishop remained a great social and political power. As local in area as the ealdorman, for the province was his diocese and he sat by his side in the local Witenagemote, he furnished a standing check on the independence of the great nobles." — Green, op. cit., I, 94. ^'Stubbs, op. cit., I, 267-68. "sVinogradoflf, op. cit., p. 227. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION g^ impracticability of a dependence, for efficient military service, upon the whole class of agricultural freemen. The natural solution was the differentiation of a military class, the beginnings of which are to be traced to the group of armed followers of the king and chieftain. The institution of a standing military establishment necessitated a most revolutionary change in social arrangements. The freemen who were members of the host did not possess sufficient land to support both household and warrior. A holding of five hides was now con- sidered necessary to equip a fully armed knight relieved from agri- cultural pursuits and always ready for immediate service. The outcome of this sharp differentiation of the thane from the body of the freeman is thus stated by Vinogradoff : ^* (a) provision for the thane and his lightly armed retinue ; (b) the obligation of mili- tary service upon large landowners and the consequent subordination of the common people ; (c) the degradation of the lower class of freemen to the position of laborers. The village community with its democratic personal relations is made the basis for a series of graduated personal relations reaching from the peasant to the king. This social differentiation was to become stratified under the social pressure of the danegeld. The danegeld, according to Maitland, was "an impost so heavy that it was fully capable of transmuting a whole nation. Therefore, the lines that are drawn by the incidence of this tribute will be deep and permanent." ^" Originating as a tribute paid to the Danes, it continued as an occasional war-tax under Danish kings, and, al- though abolished by Edward the Confessor, it was revived by William the Conqueror as a promising method of direct assess- ment.^^ The significant result of the imposition of this heavy geld upon the land and people was not alone in the tightening of political organization and in providing for the fiscal machinery for its successive reapportionment among the shires, the hundreds, town- ships, and hides, but also in its pressure upon the social arrange- ments in the village communities. In connection with the new system of military service, it tended to reduce the former freeman to villeinage. The responsibility of the lord of the manor for the payment of the assessment levied upon the, township placed the small z9/6jd, pp. 218-19. '"O/-. cit., p. 8. "/&jrf., pp. 3-4. 98 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION holders in a dependent relation to the large landowner, and estab- lished the principle that the man who pays the taxes for the land should be considered the owner of that land.^^ It is now apparent that both the spiritual and the political organiz- ation of the nation were not natural developments from within the village community, but were imposed from without. The church, though established from without and above under the sanction of royal authority, worked powerfully to promote international social- ization. In the same way, the structure of the state was determined not so much by internal as by external circumstances ; the struggle for racial survival resulted in a centralization of power througih a graded system of personal relations from the peasant and retainer up to the king. In the eleventh century the social reconstruction was well under way. The integrating process, in which a loose aggregation of semi- tribal states was to evolve into a functioning whole, had already achieved structural unity. The Norman was yet to come, acceler- ating the movement toward centralization, consolidation, and uni- formity. But the main features of social organization had already been set in the furnace of national defense and the pressure of national tribute. The old type of freeman, head of a household, had disappeared; only one-eighth of the rural population of the Domes- day Book are freeholders and yeomen; five-sevenths of the total number are unfree, that is, they are villeins, cotters, and slaves.'* These figures show how the democratic personal relations of the free village community had been transformed into the unequal personal relations of the manor. Though the reconstruction involved so great a sacrifice of freedom, yet we must recognize that the efficiency of an apparatus for manipulating these human tools furnished the ulti- mate strength of the national power. This system of squeezing out of the labor of peasants the highest possible surplus over the means of subsistence was the economic foundation upon which the military system of feudalism rested. The maintenance of the lord of the manor, wrung from the services and feudal dues of the peasants who held or worked his land, made possible his perfection in military arts. But the essential change is not in external relations, but in mental attitude. The process of feudalism was a reconstruction of mental attitudes and social relations. Personal relations, both those of ^^Maitland, op. cit., p. 55. '^Powell, in Social England, I, 240. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 99 equality and inequality, were the material out of which the feudal structure was built. Nor were these personal relations merely those of physical contact; they were essentially co-operative activity in the case of equals and reciprocal service between the superiors and inferiors. The troublous times of the Danish invasion, the "wild days" of Ethelred the Unready, even the lawlessness existing during the Confessor's reign, constitute a historical situation which might well serve as a prototype for Hobbes's abstract state of nature. The individual is, by circumstances, forced out of his kin shell and com- pelled to act, feel, and think outside the circle of family relations. The ties of kinship which have long lost geographical contiguity are now inadequate for protection. Thus we find men banding them- selves together for mutual protection, and the laws providing that the kindred shall secure a lord for the lordless man.** The landless man, the small landholder, and even the great landlord secure self- preservation in submission to the strong thane whose power consists in the number of tillers of his land and of retainers sworn to defend him. The series of personal rights and obligations extend through- out society : the great thane or earl holds his lands of the king and must follow him in war ; the lord holds his manor of the earl whom he must accompany into battle ; the holder in socage is a free man, but pledged to defend the person of his lord; the holder in villeinage and the cotter are peasants more or less closely bound to the land, who must render agricultural service to the lord. This form of recip- rocal service — personal devotion and loyalty to one's superior on the one hand, and powerful protection to one's inferior on the other*^ — is the mold into which all human relations are thrown. The closest resemblance to this mental attitude in the twentieth cen- tury is to be found in our large cities in the relation of the immi- grants to the ward "boss." The powerful man in those days also was a strong aid to his "men," when they were in trouble. An Anglo- Saxon statute provides against the lord taking advantage of legal technicalities to protect his men. "Many a powerful man will, if he can and may, defend his man in whatever way it seems to him that he may the more easily defend him, whether as a freeman or as a 'theow.' But we will not allow that injustice." '° An Anglo-Saxon oath of fealty has come down to us in which a man swears upon »*Lee, Source Book of English History, 190O, p. 88. •"Stubbs, op. cit.. I, 27S. «Lee, op. cit.. p. 102. 100 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION a relic that to his lord he will be "faithful and true, and love all that he loves, and shun all that he shuns . . . and never, by will nor by force, by word nor by work, do aught of what is loathful to him." " How sacred was the personal tie that bound together man and lord may be inferred from a passage in the introduction to Alfred's Laws which states that the laws permit money compen- sation for the first offense in almost all crimes "except in cases of treason against a lord to which they dared not assign any mercy, because God Almighty adjudged none of them who despised him, nor did Christ, the son of God, adjudge any to him who sold him to death; and he commanded that a lord should be loved as one's self." °' Treason to one's lord was the crime of a Judas Iscariot ! The process of feudalism made for the ramification of personal ties throughout society, and for the rise of a class constituting the nucleus of English social unity. Where before the land was the property of the kindred and only blood-relationship gave rights to the use of the land, now a neighborhood community and a lord of the manor owned the land conjointly, and custom gave to each member of the community certain more or less definite rights in severalty and in common. While the effect of the Danish inroads was to depress the small freeman, it also had the counter-tendency of promoting the growth of the military class. The king perceived this social need, and by legislation endeavored to stimulate the growth of the five-hide units of land throughout his kingdom. So we read in the laws of King Athelstan that "if a 'ceorl' thrived so that he had fully five hides of his own land, church and kitchen, bell-house and 'burh'-gateseat, and special duty in the king's hall, then was he thenceforth of thane-right worthy." ^' It is but right to add that a merchant who had thrice been over the sea might also become a thane, and that the rank of earl was not closed to a rising thane. The result of these two tendencies, or rather two aspects of the same process— the one degrading the freeman to villeinage, the other establishing a military class upon a sound agrarian basis — was that a limited group of five-ihide men took the place in the social scheme once occupied by the much larg:er group of one-hide men. In other words, the king, the shire, and the hundred now look to *'Thorpe, Ancient Laws and Institutes of England, 1840, I, 179. «8/6ii., p. 59. «»Lee, op. cit., p. 90. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 10 1 the five-hide man, the lord of the manor, instead of to the township of freemen for military service and for the enforcement of the geld payment.*" It is this small class, the substratum of the apex of the social' pyramid, the under-tenants both gentry and clergy, who together with the tenants-in-chief, the baronial and ecclesiastical magnates, constitute the English social self-consciousness, though they com- prise scarcely one-thirtieth of the entire population. The further history of feudal England is concerned with activities of this class. The significant outcome of the Norman Conquest was the radical change in the personnel of this class. The brunt of the struggle for Magna Charta was borne by this class; and this class secured the political guaranties for its observance. The Peasants' Revolt showed that this class was shorn of its strength, and its complete overthrow followed in the War of the Roses. But from first to last the power of the feudal aristocracy lay in the personal relations of subtenants and peasants, just as the authority of the king was more or less dependent upon his hold upon the great barons. The main factor in the feudal situation is the psychic attitude, which, stronger than physical coercion, bound the barons to the king, the retainers to the baron, and the peasant to his lord. The dhange at the Norman Conquest may be stated in simple objective terms as merely the substitution of Norman for English tenants-in-chief and under-tenants. As F. York Powell states it: "One may sum up the change in England by saying that some twenty thousand foreigners replaced some twenty thousand Eng- lishmen; and that these newcomers got the throne, the earldoms, the bishoprics, the abbacies, and far the greater portion of the big estates, mediate and immediate, and many of the burgess holdings in the chief towns." ** The substitution was qualitative as well as quantitative. The Norman conqueror had attained a higher degree of socialization, that is, he possessed more efficient habits, better discipline and oi*- ganization, and more refined tastes than the conquered. Even his contempt for the dispossessed Englishman went toward giving a rigidity and hardness to the social order. Above and beyond all immediate effects upon the social organization, the Conquest brought *oVinogradoff, op. cit, pp. 218-19; Maitland, op. cit., pp. 323-24. *^Social England, I, 240-41. 102 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION England into active participation in continental affairs. Up to this time the stimulus to national feeling had mainly come from the common suffering endured under repeated invasioji; now the in- sularity of the people was no longer to condemn it to insularity of thought, and the Hundred Years' War with the French was to awaken a patriotism based on the pride of national achievement. While objectively, then, we may state the effect of the Norman Conquest as the supplanting of Englishmen by Frenchmen, sub- jectively a political process was instituted which gets its significance from (o) the racial distinction between rulers and ruled; (6) the change in the balance of classes ; (c) the formulation of grievances in terms of the restoration of old liberties. a) The contact of Norman and English with its train of in- evitable antagonisms tightened and hardened the relations between the ruler and ruled. The followers of the conqueror, naturally hold- ing the vanquished in contempt, introduced into England the severer spirit, if not the type, of the feudalism of the Continent. The manor became the universal form*^ of rural organization; the no- tion of territorial dependence upon the lord now predominates over the old idea of personal service;*^ the different grades of depend- ence are changed into a few distinct lines of separation ; the whole tendency is toward "symmetry, simplicity, consolidation." ** But although the peasant may murmur of the increased hardness of his services to the Norman knight, the effective complaint of the people is to be located in the group of dispossessed English landlords now depressed into a middle class, and in the townsmen and the lower clergy who resent the Norman pretentions and preferment. It is this class in possession of literature and of history, a mere fraction of the whole population, and not the peasant with his limited village consciousness, which we are to understand by the term, "the English people," so vaguely employed by the historian of the Norman and Angevin period. b) The result of the Norman Conquest was a serious shift in the balance of power between the classes. Throughout the Anglo- Saxon period the central government had difficulty in checking the constant tendencies to disintegration. The clever policy of William the Conquerer in balancing the power of his barons against the na- *zVinogradoff, op. cit., p. 299. *^Ibid., p. 296. **Maitland, op. cit. p. 171. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION I03 tional consciousness of the English middle class, and the efforts in the same direction of two able successors, the first and second Henries, resulted in the gradual extinction of the powerful con- quest families, in the development of a centralized system of admin- istration in the hands of ofiScials selected from the middle class of Norman and English, and in the augmentation of the royal power. While a weak king like Stephen, handicapped by a defective title to the crown, may be unable to curb his vassals, an unscrupulous king, such as John, may use his great power so as to unite all classes against him for common protection. c) The statement of grievances in terms of the restoration of old liberties was a social psychological product. The widespread hardship and social degradation of the Conquest caused the time and person of Edward the Confessor to become enshrined in pathos.*^ Neither the "good order" *" which William the Conqueror established nor the later rising economic position of the people could obliterate the lasting impression made upon the national sentiment. King William himself contributed to the growth of the obsession by his insistence upon his position as the chosen heir of Edward the Confessor,*' as well as by his confirmation of the laws in force in the latter's reign,** and by his appointment of a committee of in- quiry into the national customs.*" Henry I, relying on the support of the English against the barons, recognized the national sentiment in his Charter of Liberties in the following words: "I restore to you the law of King Edward with the amendments which my father, by the advice of his barons, made in it." ^^ The barons later made the confirmation of this charter the rallying-cry in opposition to the autocratic actions of John, and were supported by the church, by the towns, and by popular feeling. The emotional force that gath- ered about the old English laws and customs was strong enough to direct the course of policy in the struggle between the monarch and his barons, which was to continue until the War of the Roses. *5"His was the one figure that stood out bright against the darkness when England lay trodden under foot by Norman conquerors. . . . In- stead of freedom, the subjects of William and Henry citlled for the 'good laws of Edward the Confessor.' " — Green, op. cit., I, 104. *^ Anglo-Sax on Chronicle, A. 1087; Lee, op. cit., p. 118. «Stubbs, op. cit, I, 280. *»/6trf., I, 291. *8/6»rf., I, 290, n. 2. mhid., I, 290, n. 2. 104 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION The socialization of the Anglo-Saxon period and of the first reigns after the Norman Conquest has been considered in its func- tional relation to the development of a centralized military and political organization for two purposes, national defense and na- tional order. The result was a concentration of all but absolute power in the hands of the king. The socialization of England from the reign of John to the end of the War of the Roses will be inter- preted as a crystallization of public opinion in the upper classes in connection with a struggle to safeguard the interests of the land- holding class against the arbij:rary and unrestrained use of power by the king. The demands of the barons culminating in the sign- ing of Magna Charta, its reissues and confirmations by Henry III and Edward I, the development of political machinery to enforce its provisions, the downfall of the feudal nobility in their internecine struggle were all stages in this conflict and made for the integration of national opinion. According to a well-recognized principle of social psychology, in every crisis the spontaneous emotional reaction of the group at- taches to that solution of the social problem which purposes to re- store old conditions. The difficulty of change in mental attitude is shown by the partiality always given to formulations of the new in terms of the old. So the ba'rons, in basing their demands on "the confirmation of the laws of King Edward, with the liberties set forth in Henry's Charter," =^ carried with them the sentiment of the English middle class and of the church. So strong was the adhesion of these classes that the attempts of John to placate the church by the issue of a charter guaranteeing freedom of elec- tion,'^ and to detach the citizens of London from the side of the barons by the issue of a new charter,^* both failed of their object. This support of the church, the city, and English opinion in gen- eral is all the more remarkable, since the provisions of Magna Charta are framed in the interests of the feudal lords. McKechnie gives an admirable refutation^* of the popular opinion, sanctioned by Hallam, Stubbs, Gneist, and Green, that provision is made in the Great Charter for "the absolute equality of all classes and in- terests before the law." His analysis of the beneficiaries of its «iMcKechnie, Magna Charta, 1905, p. 39. ^Vbid., p. 39. 'mid., p. 41. "/Wrf., pp. 133-34. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION I05 provisions shows that Magna Charta bears prima facie evidence of class legislation; that the concessions to feudal aristocracy consti- tute the bulk of its provisions ; that the national church had already secured its advantage by separate charter; that the recognition of the claims of under-tenants is vague and indefinite; that scarcely more than the confirmation of existing privileges was granted to the merchant and trading classes ; that the villeins are regarded by the charter as "chattels attached to a manor, not as members of an English commonwealth." '" The Great Charter is, in fact, class legislation to satisfy the selfish, if also the just, demands of men highly conscious of their own interests and indifferent to the wel- fare of others. The significance of Magna Charta does not lie in the sum-total of its provisions. Its real meaning is to be found in the relation which it sustained to political and constitutional development. This document from the first has exercised a profound influence upon national opinion and sentiment. The dramatic contest of selfish barons with a despotic king caught the imagination of every genera- tion and came to symbolize all future struggle between liberty and arbitrary government. In short. Magna Charta entered the "mores." The hypnotic spell of its name was employed to paralyze resistance to all subsequent measures of reform. Practically all the constitu- tional guaranties of freedom'® have been read into the document: trial by jury, the right of the writ of habeas corpus, prohibition of monopolies, the connection between taxation and representation, equality before the law. In the fight for constitutional freedom against the Stuarts, appeaP^ was taken to the Great Charter. The overpowering eifect of the sanction of this venerable "palladium of English liberties" is thus estimated by McKechnie: "The stigma of being banned by the Great Charter was usually too great a bur- den for any institution or line of policy to bdar. If the belief pre- vailed that an abuse complained of was really prohibited by Magna Charta, the most arbitrary king had difficulty in finding judges who would declare it legal, or trustworthy ministers who would perse- vere in enforcing it." °' So in reality the Great Charter was not so much the instrument signed by John as it was a traditional in- terpretation of that act, a folk-product, a living psychic symbol capable of growth to meet future national crises. B5/6ti., p. 143. ^■'Ibid.. p. 155. "Ibid., p. 156. Biibid., pp. 157-58. I06 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION Then, too, not only in the folk-mind, but in the document as well, is recorded the explicit recognition by the king of the sub- ordination of the royal power to the laws of England. Henceforth, the king was to be beneath and not above the constitution, rather the executor than the source of law. The four signatures of the Great Charter extorted from Henry IH, and the three signatures of his single-minded son, Edward I, were earnest of the definite purpose of the barons to hold the king to his word. The cumber- some machinery provided for the execution of the provisions of the Great Charter in the document itself, and the futile attempt of the "Mad Parliament" half a century later to institute an awkwafd system of government through committees, indicate the lack of confidence on the part of the baronage in the "pen and ink" prom- ise of the king and the strong determination to provide a practical instrument for its enforcement. One aspect of the history of Eng- land from the signing of the Great Charter to the present day is the evolution of the political machinery parallel w.ith the growth of the historical interpretation of Magna Charta. From the admis- sion of the representatives of the towns and shires in 1265 to the abolition of the veto power of the House of Lords in 1911, the history of Parliament might be written in terms of the growing powers of the House of Commons. Or, to grasp the significance of the process, we should speak of the successive admission of the different classes to influence and control in the government: first, the feudal barons ; then the aristocracy and the merchants ; later, the industrial leaders; and finally, the working class. National socialization, then, exhibits these two tendencies, a progressive in- crease of the circle of participation in political control, and a sub- stitution of impersonal government through law and legislation for the personal rule of the king. All through the period we are speak- ing of, and indeed up to the Georges, the strength of the central government, notwithstanding the increase of administrative force and of national loyalty, is still dependent, to a large extent, upon the personal ability and attitude of the hereditary monarch. At any rate, from the time of the Great Charter to the accession of Henry VH, the history of England is an alternation of periods of internal disorder and periods of brilliant attempts at foreign ag- grandizement. The crude checks imposed by a strong feudal aris- tocracy temper the despotism of an able king, but result in anarchy in the reign of a weak or incapable prince. The rule of the princes THE PERSONAL SIAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 107 of the House of Lancaster marks the culmination of the ascend- ancy of Parliament and the definite subordination of the king to the limitations upon the royal power imposed by < the feudal aris- tocracy. Heedless of the new economic and social forces that were undermining the foundation of the feudal order and which found concrete expression in the growth of towns and in the Peasants' Revolt, the great noble families thoughtlessly hurried into the War of the Roses and committed class-suicide. The peasants' rebellion is a significant landmark in the disin- tegration of the feudal system. Long before the Great Plague, the commutation of labor dues and the rise of a wage-paid working class had gone far*' toward the elimination of servile features from the villein tenure. The Black Death, by its decimation of the popu- lation, caused a rise in wages which legislation was powerless** to prevent. The attempts of the landlords to restore the obsolete feudal services proved abortive and finally provoked the peasants to revolt. This uprising of the lower classes, though technically a failure, actually resulted in the practical®^ extinction of villeinage. "Their own rebellion failed; but the slow agricultural revolution . . . gradually set the villeins free." *^ But the changes among the classes immediately subordinate to the feudal aristocracy were as great as the transformation of the service-performing villeins and cotters into small tenants and wage-earners. The Great Plague, in thinning the gentry, tended to the consolidation of estates and the consequent formation of an influential landholding class below the baronage. At the same time the increase in wages for economy of cultivation tended toward the multiplication of small holdings, thereby augmenting"^ the numbers of the yeoman class. The bare enumeration of the tendencies indicate how far economic changes were at work in weakening and in loosening the old personal ties. Yet, though the economic personal ties were breaking asunder, the psychic personal ties persisted in the intimate relation of the squire and the tenant. Even when the peasants rose against their lords, their purpose was to form a peasant monarchy in which the king would be the immediate patron of the countrymen.** 6»Gibbins, op. cit., pp. 150-51. eo/6iU, p. 153. '^Ibid., p. 171. e^Cunningham, op. cit., I, 361. «3Gibbins, op. cit., p. 157. « The function of the pedlar, with his itinerant circuit to the markets and fairs, devolved later upon local dealers. The division of trades, which exempt in whole or in part certain persons from agricultural labor, furnished the germ of the guild crafts. The development of human nature in the personal, social, and economic relations of the town furnished the new type of mental attitude found in the merchant and the artisan. The organization of the merchant guild, like that of the village and the manor, is built upon personal and local relations. But here the resemblance ceases. The guild is an association of men engaged in buying and selling for the common promotion of their common ends. The object of the organization is both exclusive and inclusive. The guild secured a monopoly of the local market* by the exclusion of non-members from the trade. The welfare of its members was secured both by mutual aid and by the limitations upon competition within the guild. For "the members of the guild had a right to claim to have a part with another miember in a successful bargain. If he fell into poverty he might count on their aid, and if he was impris- oned, or even unjustly accused, they would assist him." ' Thus the organizing principle of the merchant guild was the mutual advan- tage of its members with reciprocal aid against the outside world. Partly within and partly without the guild organization, there developed during the fourteenth and the fifteenth centuries associa- tions known as craft guilds.* Each of these guilds was an organiza- tion of the artisans of a single trade. But the mastercraftsman differed from the merchant in manufacturing the goods which he sold to the public or to a complementary craft. With the rapid expansion of industry and the consequent growth of subdivision and specialization' of trades in the reign of Edward III, the crafts multi- plied so that in London, for example, there were forty "mysteries." " The natural result was that the merchant guilds gradually disin- tegrated into an aggregate of distinct crafts." With this break-up °Gross, op. cit., I, 43. 'Cunningham, op. cit., I, 207. ^Cunningham hints that the origin of the craft guilds may be traced to association of foreign artisans {op. cit., I, 180-81). *Gross, op. cit., I, 116. loCutts, op. cit.. p. 507. "Gross, op. cit., p. 117. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION III of the old unity of the trades came an increase in the municipal regulation of industry. Although in a few places the crafts became integral parts of the common council and in most places subordinate organs for the regulation of industry, still the community as a whole in its corporate capacity controlled the crafts in the public interest and acted as arbiter in all trade disputes. "The mediaeval world was fully convinced that since all trade and manufacture was carried on for the benefit of the public, all trade and manufacture should be subject to public control; and no one then questioned that it was the duty and the right of the State or the municipality to fix hours of labor, rates of wages, prices of goods, times and places of sale, the quality of the wares to be sold, and so on." ^^ So, then, we may look upon the guild crafts of a town as (o) an aggregate of separate associations, each organized to secure a monopoly in its particular trade and complete control over it;^^ and (&) as a system of indus- trial organization utilized by the civic government for the regulation of industry in the interests of the whole community.^* This sketch of the external organization of the guild cannot but indicate the revolution in industrial habits and mental attitudes involved in the transition from agriculture to trade. The resulting mental type is determined by the play of occupational activities within the circumference of human relations. The mental makeup of the merchant and the artisan was a particular organization of human nature and mind, functionally related to the economic situa- tion of the time. The relation of the merchant to his customers embodies in inchoate form the Mercantilistic theory. The trader desires a fair profit; the community demands public welfare. The impulse for gain is not instinctive, but is developed in the exchange situation. The merchant's answer in the book of Saxon dialogues indicates that traders were early conscious of a fundamental principle of eco- nomics : " 'Will you sell your things here as you bought them there ?' T will not, because what would my labor profit me ? I will sell them here, dearer than I bought them there, that I may get some i^Green, Mrs., Tozmi Life in the Fifteenth Century, 1894, II, 135. "/&jU, II, 113. i*Seliginan, "Mediaeval Guild," in the Proceedings of the American Eco- nomic Association, II (1887), 466; and Green, Mrs., op. cit., II, 145-54. 112 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION profit to feed me, my wife, and children.' " " Then, too, the com- munity life of the mediaeval town tended to maintain a standard of commercial morality. "So long as economic dealings were based on a system of personal relationships they all had an implied moral character. To supply a bad article was morally wrong, to demand excessive payment for goods or for labor was extortion, and the right or wrong of every transaction was easily understood." ^' In the personal relations of the merchant to his customers there devel- oped two traits of character, a keen desire for profit, and an endeavor to offer good service. Though the merchant-trader formed the wealthy and influential class in town, the artisan is a better representative of urban industry. With commercial and ethical ideas similar to those of the merchant, the master of a small shop lived his life in the circle of intimate personal relations. He worked side by side with his workmen, who in general lodged at his house and ate at his table. His helpers were of two sorts. The journeymen were young, unmarried men who had served their apprenticeship and who expected in time to start shops of their own. The apprentices were boys, sons of neigh- bors or of peasants, who had been indentured to the master for seven years to learn the trade. These three groups of workers, apprentice, journeyman, and small employer, represent the three stages in the life of the mastercraftsman. A study of the mental attitudes necessary for success in the trade will give the clue for the inter- pretation of the role of the middle classes in the social, political, and religious movements of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Specialization of skill was the natural outcome of division of trades. The limitation of the activity of an individual to a single group of allied processes secured not only economy of time and effort, but an increase of efficiency and skill. The concentration of the attention upon the task, the nice co-ordination of hand and eye involved, required a superior type of mental organization and a high refinement of muscular adjustment. The fact that the entire proc- ess of production was in the hands of the person introduced the element of control, stimulated initiative, and often resulted in inven- tion. ' In the majority of trades the variety of the processes in manu- facture excluded monotony and sustained interest. The instinct of workmanship was called into play by the rivalry within the group ^"Cutts, op. cit., p. 466. i^Cunningham, op. cit., I, 411. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION II3 of workmen and by the standard of excellence set by the require- ments of the examinations of apprentice and of master. The effects of occupation are not confined to manual efficiency; they determine attitudes to life and shape habits of thought. The activities of the shop, the buying of the raw material, the planning and making of the article, the selling of the finished product, devel- oped a higher type of mental organization than that required for the sowing and the plowing of the peasants. To measure, to calculate, to figure, not only for today, but for a month and a year ahead, made for increased control over mental imagery, the discipline of the imagi- nation, and the discriminating use of past experience. Success in life also required a nicer adjustment to the circle of personal rela- tions around the artisan. The status of the villein, though servile, was secure ; on the other hand, the standing of the artisan among his fellows was subject to every shift of circumstance. Little wonder fhat the mastercraftsman endeavored to secure his position by advantageous relations, not only to his guild, but also within his shop and with the community. inii5_.c£mplexitjr_,i9|,,.g©fSQijal .pehu* tions ^nded toward greatexjsell-TCQntrol. tn the guild, the artisan was on terms of equality and brotherhood with his fellows ; in the shop, a master who must get the most labor out of his co-workers ; in trade, deferent, but not servile to my lord and lady. Business life developed its valuable psychic and moral characteristics : steadi- ness of hand and eye, foresight and calculation, thrift and frugality, neighborliness and self-control. The life of the shop and town con- ' tributed its influences. The running talk of the shop, the meetings of the masters of the craft, with the discussion of trade differences, stimulated independence of thinking and made for clearer conscious- ness of individual and group interest. Town life brought wider contact. Many merchants had business in London or had repre- sented the town in Parliament ; one or two of them had been across the English Channel. In the Middle Ages the country gentry went to town^^ for the winter as now to London. The town clerk had perhaps come from Oxford or Cambridge. The demand for edu- cation in reading, writing, and arithmetic for business purposes resulted in the addition of the schoolmaster to the community. Groups of foreign artisans settled from time to time in many of the towns, bringing with them not only improved industrial arts, but "Cutts, op. cit., p. S4S. 114 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION "outlandish" ways of living. From the country a constant stream of peasant boys and girls sought work and wages. Disciples of Wycliffe were active in spreading their thought-provoking doctrines among the discontented element. All these influences contributed to make the town the center of the new forces making for progress. The foment and ferment of these class and racial contacts could have no other effect than that 6f widening the mental outlook and of stimulating the thinking of the townsman. It is in these times of unrest and of industrial change that the old "mores" lose their force and new attitudes and habits suited to new circumstances arise. Town life and occupational activity make not only for an awakened intellectual interest but also for a change in moral attitude. Puritanism has been aUke condemned and commended for its part in the destruction of "Merrie England." This popular explanation is superficial. The Puritan movement was simply the projection of the lower middle-class attitude and imposed the middle-class "mores," accentuated by years of ridicule and persecution, upon the other classes in England. Mrs. Green shows that in town life at the end of the fifteenth century the reaction had set in toward the disap- proval of merrymaking. "On the whole, it is evident that long before the Reformation, and even when as yet no Puritan principles had been imported into the matter, the gaiety of the towns was already sobered by the pressure of business and the increase of the class of depressed workers." ^' Daily experience in trade and in craft brought home to individuals the lesson that success in business required habits of industry and economy; that pleasure-seeking, extravagance, and dissipation led to failure. After two or three generations this attitude of mind expressed itself in proverbs and rhymes; the middle class as a group now sanctioned, as right, Con- duct that led to success in business, and condemned, as wrong, con- duct that made for failure. It is possible to trace these two steps in the process. It was but natural for the mastercraftsman to attempt to train his apprentices in habits of application and thrift and to desire steady workers for journeymen. We have no reason to believe that the lower-class English youth of this period was superior to the "roughs and toughs" of American towns and cities. For example, shops were closed on Sunday because "journeymen and apprentices had wasted i^Green, Mrs., op. cit., I, 152. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION II5 ana purloined the property of their masters while they have been attending at their parish churches." " The indentures which have been preserved indicate not only the interest of the master in the morals of his apprentice, but also the shortcomings of the latter. "He is not to frequent taverns, commit fornication or adultery with the housemaids or in town, nor betroth himself without his master's permission. He is not to wear certain garments, play at dice, chequers, or any other unlawful game, but is to conduct himself soberly and piously as a good and faithful servant, or in default to serve double time." '"' It is impossible to state what compromise with this ideal resulted in actual life because of the tendency to indulge in the condemned practices, but the attitude of the master may be readily inferred. He had himself been apprentice and journeyman and had observed the worthless after-life of many a good-natured journeyman bent on having a "good time." The example of a "good-for-nothing" old toper of the town must often, in that day as in this, have served as a text for mothers and masters in the training of the boy. The rising position of women and the beginnings of home life assisted the reaction from merrymaking and dissipation. The rela- tion of home and shop was close. Even the house of the rich mer- chant, often a three-storied mansion, had the shop on the ground floor. Wife and daughters worked as auxiliary aid in the craft. The widow of the merchant or artisan carried on the trade until remarried.^^ Married women were permitted to become traders with the privileges of property-holding and legal protection." These facts indicate how far the influence of the wife and the home might make for the simpler pleasures of the family and away from the distraction of the town festivals and fairs. The artisan can hardly have whole-heartedly approved of the circuses, the pageants, the holidays, and the carnivals inherited from village life. Though these amusements had become communal institutions and made an evident appeal to apprentice and journeyman, the crafts by the end I'Seligman, op. cit, II, 89. '^"Ibid., II, 87 ; free translation of Indentures of 1409 in Madox, Formulare Anglican, p. 98. ^^Seligman, op cit., II, 70. "Green, Mrs., op. cit, II, 33, n.2. Il6 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION of the fifteenth century began to complain"' against the burden of their support. However the mastercraftsman might at first en- courage and later tolerate them as aids to business, in the end he was bound to recognize that the dissipation and licentiousness connected with them distracted from shop discipline. Besides, their influence was bad on the home life which was now taking the place of the old community activities. Patten, in his book, TjieDevelopment^ of Eng- lisht,.Though,t, a searching psychological study of "English classeS*,** puts this point well : "Both economically and socially the home and the communal life stand opposed to each other. Economically, because the income spent at the fair and the festival is demanded by the home ; socially, because the pleasures of these places lower men's standards and taint the purer atmosphere of the home. Its more intimate relations demanded a total abstinence from the coarser pleasures in which communal life abounded. As soon, therefore, as economic conditions made English homes possible, the seeds of Puritanism were sown." ^^ The rules of success for individual conduct soon passed into group maxims with the development of personal types approved by the "mores." In the rude proverbs of daily speech, "jingling rhymes of wise council," we may enter into the mental makeup of the crafts- man's life. "They picture a life anxious and difficult, whose recog- nized condition is one of toil that knows no relaxation and no end, of hardship borne with unquestioned endurance — a life amid whose humble prosperity family affection and the family welfare are best assured by having one roof, one entrance door, one fire, and one dining table, and a 'back door' is looked on as an extravagance which would bring any household to ruin. . . . The standard of conduct is one framed for a laborious middle class, with its plain- spoken seriousness, its sturdy morality, its activity and rectitude and independence, its dullness and vigilance and thrift. It is the duty of good men to set their people well to work, to keep house carefully, to get through any heavy job steadily and swiftly, to pay wages regularly, to give true weight, to remember ever that 'borrowed thing must needs go home.' " "° zaGreen, Mrs., op. cit., I, 1S1-S2. 2*But vitiated by a biological theory of social change. '^The Development of English Thought, 1899, p. 124. =8Green, Mrs., op. cit., II, 6-7. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION II 7 The distinctive characteristics of the middle class are, then: a growing consciousness of class interests, an intellectual awakening, the development of appropriate standards of conduct. This mental organization of interests, attitudes and character of the members of the middle classes had a dynamic efifect upon the whole of English life. The Mercantilistic policy, the Reformation, Puritanism, are the three chief expressions of the middle class movement. A. The class-conscious assertion of national privileges by the commercial and middle classes was a gradual growth. The percep- tion that the national power could be controlled, as the municipal authority had been controlled, for the promotion of commerce and industry, did not at once break upon the perception of the middle class. In a sense the nation stumbled upon the mercantile policy and unconsciously followed its principles long before a conscious attempt was made to utilize it in order to promote national wealth. So great was the hold of the landed aristocracy over the imagination of the middle classes that the latter did not at once appreciate the shift of power in their favor. The victory of the paid armies of English yeomen over the French feudal array at Crecy and Poitiers had great significance for the future."" The new personnel of the English force was a virtual admission that the feudal aristocracy had relinquished its former function of national defense. The employment of an army of paid soldiers instead of the feudal forces indicated that the highest mili- tary eflficiency in future struggles would depend, primarily, upon a well-filled treasury. These two facts taken together demonstrated that the strength of the nation now lay in its middle class, in its solid gentry and stout yeomen, in its shrewd merchants and thrifty artisans. The consequence of the increasing importance of trade shows itself in the tendency toward the commercialization of the country gentry, in the growing political power of the middle classes, both in Parliament and in the royal favor, and in the development of a national commercial policy. The interests and aims of a commer- cial class allied with the landed gentry became outspoken in Parlia- ment and began to influence national action. From early time the influence of the towns was in advance of their direct political control. The advantage, in a crisis, of concen- tration of population and the towns* general independence of the 2TSmith, in Social England, II, 12. Il8 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION great barons made their adherence of advantage to the king. In a real sense London, with its large population, with its wealthy mer- chants, and with its prestige among the towns, came to represent the mercantile interest and feeling. As early as the Norman kings, the support of London gained Stephen his throne;^* the unsuccessful De Montf ort relied on the support of the towns ;^' Henry IV and Henry V allied themselves with the mercantile element,^" while the unfailing support of London enabled Edward IV to rule more abso- lutely than his predecessors.^^ The immediate influence of the towns lay in their relation to the pecuniary wants of the king. The periodic financial needs of royalty, particularly acute before a military cam- paign, indirectly promoted the power of the towns. The large con- tributions of London citizens and the large loans of the other towns quite generally demanded quid pro quo.^^ In addition, the support of the representatives of the boroughs was of increasing importance in the securing of grants of supplies. For from the initial representation of the towns in De Montf ort's Parliament, the participation of the members of the. boroughs in Commons^' gradually widened in scope. In the fifteenth century, although the town representatives outnumbered the knights of the shire four to one in the Commons, questions of finance naturally fell to the former and matters of state were discussed by the latter. But the sixteenth century marks the equality of citizens with the knights'* in the Commons, as well as the growing importance of the lower house. The seventeenth century opens with the struggle between the king and Parliament; the lower middle classes are the support of Cromwell during the Commonwealth ;'° the course of events after the Revolution in 1688 brings definitely into opposition the Tories representing the landholding class and the Whigs depending for 28Stubbs, op. cit., I, 345. 2»Green, op. cit.. I, 297. '"Cunningham, op. cit., I, 366 ff. '1 "He remained until his death a favorite with the people of London and the great towns." — Stubbs, op. cit., Ill, 223. '^Cunningham, op. cit., I, 350. "Stubbs, op. cit., II, 248 S. '*Hassall, in Social England, II, 461-62. ^^Infra., pp. 129 flF. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION II9 support upon the middle and commercial classes.^" Beneath this gradual shifting of power from the landed to the trade interest had proceeded a commercialization of the landowners and the rise of a mercantile national policy. The expansion of commerce and industry in England resulted in a horizontal instead of a perpendicular stratification of classes. The line of demarkation between land and trade became intercepted by many connecting links. In the first place, a growing appreciation of wealth led to the fusion of the landed gentry with the trade aristoc- racy. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the intermarriage of the families of the country gentry and successful town merchants," in the eighteenth century the many matrimonial alliances between commercial magnates and noble houses,^* tended to consolidate the interests of the two classes. Then, too, the wealthy merchant, crav- ing the aristocratic distinction which land gave, became a large land- owner.^' It was from the country gentry and commercial classes that Henry VII created his new nobility*" after the destruction of the old feudal houses. Not only sentiment and family ties, but also economic interest tended to unite the two classes. The foreign and home demand for English wool helped to overturn the manorial system and the feudal conception of landholding. To the lord of the manor the possession of land had been valued because it would sup- port men, peasants to till the soil, and a military retinue to fight for him in battle.*^ The squire, sometimes himself a wealthy merchant, now perceived in his land, pasture for sheep; and in wool, a com- modity, the sale of which would bring him in a profit. The objective manifestation of this new mental attitude is seen in the extensive inclosures for pastures during the sixteenth century.*^ The eviction of the smaller tenants, the raising of the rent for yeomen and farmers, the unscrupulous inclosing of the commons, caused such general suffering that More in his Utopia is moved to complain that soGibbins, op. cit., pp. 321-22. *'Abrani, Social England in the Fifteenth Century, 1909, p. 96. s*Toynbee, Industrial Revolution, 3d ed., 1890, p. 63. ssGreen, Mrs., op. cit., II, 79. ^"Hassall, in Social England, II, 460-61. "Prothero, in Social England, III, 3'S2-S3. *2 Ashley, op. cit.. Part II, p. 286. 120 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION "sheep may be said now to devour men, and to unpeople not only- villages but towns." ** j At the same time a similar fusion was tending to unite the inter- ests and points of view of the lower classes. The common attitude of the small artisan and yeoman need not have been due to intimate relations, for the economic situation of the two classes was similar. The necessity of ingraining habits of industry, the emphasis upon thrift and economy, the value of foresight, the development of a protective philosophy against the practices of the wealthier classes, were common to both groups. This union of the poorer classes of the town and the village was due not only to the fellow-feeling of common oppression, but also to ties of relationship. Many of the apprentices and journeymen had parents in the country.** This interconnection was local and passive, and not until Cromwell's time was any attempt made to organize it. The development of the commercial attitude in the landed aris- tocracy, together with its control over the minds of the merchants and manufacturers, soon began to influence national policy. The feudal baron had been content with plenty, food and drink enough for his household and for his armed retainers. The merchant, how- ever, in selling his wares, wanted a profit over the purchase price ; the landlord was now looking for high rents from his land and high prices for his wool ; the manufacturer, no longer content with com- munity standing, desired a gain on the increased investment of capital in his business ; while the king wanted a huge accumulation of treasure, ready at hand for the emergency of war and as an insur- ance against the necessity of too frequent parliaments.*" The guilds in the town had been strong enough to manipulate the municipal power to their own advantage: the control of the national power meant a much wider field of activity. In a sense, Mercantilism is a generalization to national affairs of the guild system of control of the towns.*' The strong local power of the municipality became subordinate to the growing national patriotism; the welfare of the trade and landed aristocracy became more and more dependent upon *^Morley's edition, 1886, p. 64. "Green, Mrs., op. cit.. I, 194. *'Henry VII is the typical mercantilist king. Cf. Gibbins, op. cit., p. 194. ^'Cunningham, op. cit., I, 243-44. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 121 securing and maintaining a national regulation of commerce and industry. The first definite adherence to the new policy comes in the reign of Richard III. "Pushed on, as we may believe, with the approval of London merchants," " three trade measures highly to the interest of the commercial classes became laws : the prohibition of retail trade by foreign merchants in England, the encouragement of the native shipping, and the prohibition of the export of money and bullion except under royal license.** These statutes exhibit the purpose of Mercantilism and the means sought to secure the end. The goal is national power ; the means employed are the accumula- tion of treasure, increase of shipping, regulation of commerce and industry," ostensibly and to a limited extent in regard to the interests of the whole people, but predominantly in the interests of the power- ful merchants and the large landholders." So it came about in England that, while in theory Mercantilism was a system which aimed to promote national efficiency in the struggle for political and commercial existence, in practice it was a manipulation of this prin- ciple in favor of the merchants, manufacturers, and landlords. While in foreign affairs commerce and industry long remained sub- ordinate to or at most contributory to national policy, in domestic regulation of industry the economic interests of the wealthy classes were promoted at the expense of the interests of the bulk of the population. Mercantilism was not satisfied with securing a home market and the regulation of domestic industry, but extended its activity to inter- national relations. The foreign policy of the nation was the outcome of the patriotic desires of the English sovereign and the national prejudice of the people, influenced more and more by the commercial interests of the classes in control of Parliament and public opinion. The change was from wars of military conquest and of religion to wars for a sole market. The Hundred Years' War,, the foreign policy of Henry VHI, the role of England as the champion of Protestantism, were predominantly contests for military glory or religious, defense, although economic motives were involved. But from "the middle of the seventeenth century . . . European wars have been waged on behalf of the balance of [commercial] power. . . . The English, the French and the Dutch were the *mid., I, 338. *mid., I., 350-54. *'Ibid., I, 426 ; II, 101. eoGibbins, op. cit., pp. 362-64. 122 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION competitors in the wars for a sole market. But Holland was prac- tically ruined at the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, and France was stripped ... of her colonies at the peace of Paris, and England became not only the principal maritime, but the principal manufactur- ing and mercantile country in the world. . . . The most im- portant sole market which Great Britain had acquired by her wars was the seaboard of North America. To support the finances of the chartered company, the British Parliament determined on taxing the inhabitants of her sole market, and the result . . . was the war of American Independence." °^ Not only the securing of the world-market for English goods, but the regulation of industry was a characteristic piece of Mercan- tilistic policy. Ostensibly for the good of the public and of the laborer, the statutes for the reiorganization of industry contain un- mistakable evidences of class legislation. Thus the famous Statute of Labourers of Elizabeth's reign,'^ providing for the assessment of wages, states in the preamble that "the wages and allowances rated and limited in many of the said statutes [i.e., the old Statutes of Labourers] are in divers places too small and not answerable to this time," and hypocritically places the machinery of enforcement of the act in the hands of the local justices of the peace, men closely allied to the employer and too often identical with him.°' One main object of the Law of Apprenticeship was to prevent the movement of popu- lation from the country to the towns.'* The levy of the compulsory poor rate prescribed in the celebrated Poor Law of Elizabeth'* fell heavily upon the small occupier who did not employ laborers, and worked to the advantage of the employer of workmen.'* The prohi- bition of the export of wool benefited the manufacturers, while the Com Laws worked to the advantage of the landowners. The pro- test of Parliament against monopolies is an instance in which the interests of the commercially and politically dominant classes coin- cided with the welfare of the unrepresented classes. But the fact that "all through the seventeenth century a rise of rents is treated, not as a special boon to the landlord class, but as a gain to the country at large," " is due not so much to the public spirit of the landlords, '^Rogers, op. cit., p. 324. »2Act S of Elizabeth, c. 4 (1563). «=The 43 Elizabeth, c. 3 (1601). '^Gibbins, op. cit., p. 254. '^Rogers, op. cit., p. 245. ^*Ibid., pp. 259-60. "Cunningham, op. cit., II, 191. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION I23 as to their utter lack of appreciation of the existence of the interests of the other classes.*' The Navigation Acts*' were recognized at the time as favoring the merchants and the shipping interest,*" but were defended on the ground of the necessity of maintaining a large sea-force. Such were the objects and ends of a trade policy consistent with the patriotism and prejudice, the aims and interests of country gentlemen and thrifty merchants. Despite the fact that the wealthy classes were too prone to identify class interest with public policy, and too ready to impose galling restrictions and regulations upon the working class, the mercantile policy demonstrated that the state was not simply an instrument for national military defense and for police protection, but also an agency for promoting the material interests of the people. Never was the apparent success of the system more striking than before its collapse: a world-market had been won for English trade ; the Napoleonic contests had been sustained by adher- ence to Mercantilistic principles. Beneath the forms and limitations of the old system, a new industrial relationship was coming into existence. With the nationalization of Mercantilism, that is, with the substitution of parliamentary regulation of industry for local control, the beginnings of a new relation of persons evolved. The personal relations of the shop and the manor were breaking up, the impersonal relations of the factory with its large employer and hun- dreds of employees, and the estate with landlord-farmer and laborers were taking their place. But before we consider the development of our present industrial system let us consider the two other chief manifestations of the middle-class movement, the Reformation and Puritanism. B. The Reformation was an expression and a development of the intellectual independence and the economic discontent of the time. Its theological doctrines are to be found in the thinking of the 5' "An infallible sign of your decay of wealth, is the falling of rents and the raising of them would be worth the nation's care, for in that and not in the falling of interest lies the true advantage of the landed man and with him of the public." — Locke, Considerations of thf Lowering of Interest, Works, IV, 69; Cunningham, op. cit., II, 238. e»Act, c. 22 of 1651 (Commonwealth). '"Argument of Sir Josiah Child (Cunningham, o/>. cit., II, 292). 124 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION intellectual leaders of the period, but its actual movement was deter- mined by the attitude and interests of the mercantile and middle classes. The Reformation, on its theoretical side, found its inception in an academic environment. Wycliffe, Huss, and Luther were college men. In England Oxford°^ has always been the starting-point of all the great religious movements. In the third decade of the sixteenth century Cambridge was the center of a group of men,®^ including Coverdale, Tyndale, and Latimer, who met for purposes of religious discussion. The singular freedom and special privileges enjoyed by universities promoted independence of thinking. As Rogers says of Oxford, "It was certainly self-governed, and its authority over its own students was declared to be independent of bishop and pope. Many, too, believed that the course of its studies, under which the most sacred questions were customarily attacked and defended, lent no little aid to the skeptical tone which characterized the writings and conversation of its members." °* The leadership in religious reform now passed from the monastery to the university. Practi- cally all great future movements in religion, whether the Wesleyan revival or the Oxford movement, were to find their inception in the minds of men kindled by the fullest knowledge of the day. But the Reformation must have perished still-bom, had not cir- cumstances favored its living and growth. The decisive influence which furnished a social body for the new faith seems to have been the mental attitude of the middle class. The economic independence and the urban surroundings of the artisan and merchant made pos- sible and stimulated intellectual independence ; the utility of reading and writing for business accounts and transactions gave an incentive to education. The growth of a lay reading class accelerated the invention of printing and its perfection,** while the consequent multi- plication of books increased the group of readers. The psycho- logical effect of the sixteenth century overvaluation of the printed page, when practically the only book in general circulation was the Bible, cannot be ignored. At any rate, the functional connection •^Rogers, op. cit., pp. 73-74. e^MuUinger, in Social England, III, 87. **Rogers, op. cit., p. 74. e*De Vinne, Invention of Printing, 1878, Preface; Green, op. cit., II, 53. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCULIZATION ^25 between the interests and habits of thought of the middle class and the Reformation is obvious. As Rogerspoints out, "In European history, discontent with existing religious Institutions, and the accept- ance of heresy on speculative topics, have always been characteristic of manufacturing regions. It was the case in Toulouse in Southern France, in Flanders, in Eastern England. The French Huguenots were the manufacturers and merchants of that country in the seven- teenth century, and when they were expelled, carried with them their skill and their capital. Only Italy is an exception, and Italy profited so greatly by the Papacy that it was not disposed to quarrel with the institution." *" The hostility of the mercantile manufacturing and trading class to the Catholic church in England was a complex development from many sources. Although the will of the wealthy merchant would probably provide for candles and prayers "for his soul's welfare," and while the magnificence of the local church called forth strong local pride,*® the payment of immense sums of money to the Roman see not only was the subject of uneasy speculation concerning its relation to the balance of trade,'' but also was a sore trial to the national self-consciousness.®^ "Nothing," says Stubbs, "had helped so much to maintain the national feeling against the Papacy as the payment of Peter's pence, the penny from every hearth due for the Romescot." "* Gifts and legacies to monasteries also decreased in the latter part of the fifteenth century,'" and stories reflecting upon the character of monks began to circulate widely.'^ The question of usury also caused irritation against the church; the merchants, curiously enough, contended that the ecclesiastical courts were too lenient with offenders against the canon.'"' Of all the struggles for liberty waged by towns against their feudal lords, that waged by ^^Op. cit., p. 79. «6Abram, op. cit., p. 203. "'Cunningham, op. cit., I, 3S3-S4. "'Rogers, op. cit., p. 75 ; Cunningham, op. cit., I, 253. ""Op. cit., II, 473. '"Abram, op. cit., pp. 114-16. 'i/6«rf., p. 114. '^Cunningham, Christian Opinion on Usury, Preface. 126 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION towns on church lands against their ecclesiastical lords was the most bitter." Then, too, the relative freedom from taxation of church and monastic property could not but be noted by the other classes^* upon whom the heavy burden of military expenditure fell. Quarrels within the church and the growing secularity of the priests inevi- tably resulted in winning popular contempt and in the independent development of spiritual religion. The life and teachings of Wycliffe not only prepared the way for the Reformation, but articulated the attitude of a large part of the people to the church. His two central ideas were evangelical pov- erty and dominion founded on grace. This latter doctrine was in reality a spiritualization of the feudal theory of lordship based on reciprocity of service.'^ Thus, in a sense, the Oxford reformer is reactionary; at the same time, when the personal ties of feudalism are snapping asunder, he would substitute relations of real service for the extortion and exploitation of the past. His disciples, how- ever, perceived the full social significance of his teachings and entered on a political campaign to accomplish them. The spread of Lollardism was not confined to the peasantry, among whon> Wydiffe's poor priests were not much more than agents for unifying the discontent of the period, but made its way far more intelligibly among the artisans and workmen of the towns. In the fifteenth century these doctrines spread to the eastern counties, which were then the centers of industrial life.'' "For a long time a 'weaver,' " says Rogers, "was the familiar synonym for a heretic." '''' Lollard- ism gave a religious sanction to the thrifty habits of the artisan, and a part of his saving was the money which his more superstitious neighbor spent on priest or monk.'^ The economic character of the Lollard movement is evinced in the Lollard petition to Parliament in 1394, which not only disapproves of many of the doctrines and cere- monies of the church, but also condemns "war and capital punish- ment and trade in luxuries." '° All evidence goes to show that Lol- "Green, Mrs., op. cit., I, chaps, ix-xi. '*See Rogers, op. cit., p. 77. "Poole, in Social England. II, 162 ff. '^Trevelyan, England in the Age of Wycliffe, 1899, map, p. 352. ''''Op. cit., p. 91. ■">Ihid., p. 80. "Smith, in Social England, II, 153. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 127 lardism was not only a natural expression of the middle-class move- ment in England, but also revealed the fundamental factors under- lying the break with Rome in England. The Reformation in Eng- land was diverted from its natural course of development by the emergence of other factors, which, while accelerating the movement in some directions, impeded it in others. So in analyzing the ele- ments which entered into the situation in England, it will be neces- sary to take into account other factors than the intellectual awaken- ing and the habits of mind of the middle class. A statement of the significance of the Reformation in England is difiScuIt, because of the complexity both of the factors entering into it and of the effects produced. The Reformation seems to be a prod- uct of the interwoven forces rising out of the economic, intellectual, and national situations. The rising prosperity of the mercantile, artisan, and yeoman classes was achieved by the realization of an economic interest, which grudged the payment of the ecclesiastical exactions and resented the immunity from . taxation enjoyed by church lands. This material development made possible and required the growth of the intellectual interest. The thinker and doubter found an aspiring social group with leisure and inclination to hear criticisms of the existing order. The strength of the eco- nomic motive in providing a social body for the new movement is shown by the decisive influence'" which the distribution of monastic lands played in securing the adherence of the aristocracy. Then, too, the perpetual possibility of a clash between the Papacy and the king furnished the situation in which the whole force of the royal power might definitely be brought to aid the new movement. Had a sufficient cause for conflict arisen between pope and Lancastrian king when LoUardism was strong in England, the religious separation might have come a century earlier. Had no such contention arisen, the birth of the Church of England might have been delayed a cen- tury. But the addition of the national factor, decisive for the mo- ment, operated in the long run to confine the natural development of the Reformation. So far as Henry VIH and Elizabeth were con- cerned. Protestantism meant royal, rather than papal, control of the church. So the reaction from Catholicism was carried out, in the completest sense, in the Puritan and sectarian movements. sofieazley, in Social England, III, 66. 128 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION The results of the Reformation may be briefly catalogued. First of all there was the serious diminution in the temporal power of the organized church. Stripped of its large material possessions, iso- lated from the church universal, the Anglican church definitely accepted its subordination to the secular power. Then there was at the same time a trend toward larger freedom in religious opinion, an emancipation of the individual from the control of the organiza- tion, toward a larger participation of the individual in the religious life of the time. This tendency expressed itself at first only in the leaders of the religious movement ; it was later that the new sense of individual religious freedom became a part of the life of groups in the population. Politically, the Reformation tended to stimulate national sentiment and patriotism by emphasizing the difference between England and South European countries and by placing the English nation in the role of the defender of Protestantism. The change to Protestantism was of far-reaching intellectual importance. While the movement did not at once fully emancipate the human mind, it permitted to men of learning a sure, if somewhat re- stricted, field of intellectual activity. So we perceive that in Eng- land organized religion did not as in France repress or expel the free, intellectual energy generated by the middle classes, but accom- modated its machinery to a restrained utilization of this new force. C. The Reformation has been interpreted as essentially a part of the middle-class movement, but largely influenced and controlled in England by the king and the aristocracy. The attempt will now be made to indicate that Puritanism was a lower middle-class de- velopment, largely independent of king and aristocracy, which at- tempted to force the tendencies of the Reformation to their logical conclusion. The steps in the proof are as follows : (1) The lower middle class constituted the bulk of the Puritan movement. (2) The practical aims of Puritanism were those of a group struggling with the problems of the middle-class situation. (3) Puritanism, in its further historical development, has been associated both within and without the Established Church with the middle classes of the population. 1. The Puritan movement found its fertile soil in the middle classes. Economic conditions in England in the Tudor period favored the development of a substantial class between the aris- tocracy, on the one hand, and the tenants and wage-earners on the THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 1 29 other. "The classes immediately above that of the wage-earners, which included small farmers, shop-keepers, and small employers, naturally profited greatly by the rise in prices. . . . We are not surprised to find that the middle classes grew greatly both in numbers and wealth during the reign of Elizabeth. It was these classes who were most attracted towards Puritanism, which thus became, before the close of Elizabeth's reign, an important factor in the national life, though it was still only slightly represented in the House of Commons, and still more slightly in the House of Lords." *^ The membership of the early separatist churches ap- pears to be drawn from the lower middle class. For example,'^ out of the forty-eight names given of members of Johnson's London congregation in 1592, 27 are artisans, 7 ministers, teachers, and clerks, 4 servants, 6 other employments, 4 occupation not given. "The bulk [of the Pilgrim Fathers]," says Green, "were God-fear- ing farmers from Lincolnshire and the Eastern counties." °* The division of classes as revealed in the Civil War indicates that Parliament and the Commonwealth depended for support on the middle classes. "The core, so to speak, [of the Royalist party] consisted of the country squires, with their deep-rooted traditions of loyalty, their habits of local leadership, their contempt for the interference of yeomen and artisans in politics";** consequently, "royalism failed just where Puritanism succeeded, in getting hold of the middle class." *° That Puritanism was not a lower-class movement is also clear. "Till after Marston Moor the peas- antry in most of the counties leaned decidedly to the Royalist side." " 2. Not only was Puritanism a lower middle-class movement, but its practical program is genetically related to the problems of the middle-class situation. Puritanism in England was an attempt to realize the economic, moral, and intellectual interests of the lower middle class and to make its standards universal for English society. siSymes, in Social England, III, S47--48. **Burrage, Early English Dissenters, 1912, I, 146-49. "0#. cit.. Ill, 170. s*Sinith, in Social England, IV, 220-21. ^flbid., IV, 207. 86/6trf., IV, 222. 130 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION a) The Puritan movement on its economic side was a portion of the great individualistic trend which followed in the wake of the break-up of the feudal industrial order. The Puritan in his eco- nomic relations was the prototype of the "economic man," motived by enlightened self-interest. An artisan in the town and a yeoman in the country, he must count the pennies to make both ends meet. Thrifty and self-reliant, with a scorn for the incompetent, he de- veloped, as well, traits of character and habits which have won him the severest condemnation. Cunningham savagely attacks Puritanism for its merciless exploitation of inferior groups and races. "The effects of Puritan teaching in undermining the old teaching about the lawful use of riches has already been discussed. . . . There are three positive evils where its tendency can be most clearly traced : (a) in degrading the condition of the laborer ; (b) in reckless treatment of native races ; and (c) in the develop- ment of the worst forms of slavery." " The changes under the Puritan regime in England were for the benefit of the hirer of labor and brought little or no advantage to the wage-working class. "Puritanism, by abolishing holidays and generally discountenancing amusements, tended to make work longer and harder. When we allow for this, and for the small rise in prices, it is questionable whether there was much improvement in real wages, measured by time." " The Puritan most certainly used his lease of power to legislate for his own class benefit and not for the advantage of the thriftless, amusement-loving laborer! b) The moral attitude of the Puritan was a natural outgrowth of the economic problems of the lower middle-class situation. To this economically valuable code of conduct was given the highest religious sanction. No keener nor more incisive psychological analy- sis of the relation of the religion and the morals of aspiring lower economic groups has been given than that by Adam Smith in his Wealth of Nations. In the following passage, it is true, the great economist is especially concerned with the sectarian move- ments of his day, but the principles stated are applicable to the origin rnd development of practically all the Protestant sects: "In every society where the distinction of ranks has once been com- pletely established, there have been always two different schemes or ^'Cunningham, op. cit., II, 107. ^^Symes, in Social England, IV, 271. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION I3I systems of morality current at the same time ; of which the one may be called the strict or austere ; the other, the liberal, or if you will, the loose system. The former is generally admired and revered by the common people : the latter is commonly more esteemed and adopted by what are called people of fashion. ... In the liberal or loose system, luxury, wanton and even disorderly mirth, the pur- suit of pleasure to some degree of intemperance, the breach of chas- tity, at least in one of the two sexes, etc., provided that they are not accompanied with gross indecency, and do not lead to falsehood or injustice, are generally treated with a good deal of indulgence, and are easily either excused or pardoned altogether. In the austere system, on the contrary, those excesses are regarded with the utmost abhorrence and detestation. The vices of levity are always ruinous to the common people, and a single week's thoughtlessness and dis- sipation is often sufficient to undo a poor workman forever, and to drive him through despair upon committing the most enormous crimes. The wiser and better sort of the common people, therefore, have always the utmost abhorrence and detestation of such excesses, which their experience tells them are so immediately fatal to people of their condition. . . . "Almost all religious sects have begun among the common people, from whom they have generally drawn their earliest, as well as their most numerous proselytes. . . . The austere system of morality has, accordingly, been adopted by those sects almost con- stantly, or with very few exceptions; for there have been some. It was the system by which they could best recommend themselves to that order of people to whom they first proposed their plan of reformation upon what had been before established. Many of them, perhaps the greater part of them, have even endeavored to gain credit by refining upon this austere system, and by carrying it to some degree of folly and extravagance; and this excessive rigor has frequently recommended them more than anything else to the respect and veneration of the common people." *' This analysis by Smith makes plain the three stages in the de- velopment of Puritan "mores": first, conduct with an economic value ; then, a moral code approved by the group ; finally, standards of morality with the highest religious sanction. The political triumph of Puritanism disclosed the extent to which the "mores" of the s'Smith, Wealth of Nations, 1904 (Cannan's ed.), II, 279-80. 132 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION lower class were imposed by legislation upon the people. "At the same time the religious observance of Christmas Day was prohibited, marriages were only lawful if solemnized by a magistrate, and plays, horse-races, and most public amusements were forbidden. It is un- questionable that these restrictions were greatly resented by the poor, while amongst the richer folk the memoirs of the time show how many who had opposed the Laudian movement were even less satisfied with the new religious fashions." '" c) The intellectual interest of Puritanism found its chief ex- pression in a theology which reflected and synthesized the life-ex- perience of the man of the lower middle class. Calvinism is the theoretical expression of the new individualistic attitude toward life. The chief points in the Calvinistic doctrine, salvation by grace, total depravity, and election, have a peculiar relation to the everyday life of the middle class. Redemption by grace rather than by works ■ meant in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries salvation by godly living rather than by penance and showy giving. The dogma of total depravity was a generalization from experience. The pleasures of the world had a power over men which could be explained only by positing the innate wickedness of human nature. Thus the Puritan assumed that his children (and the latter often lived up to the assumption)'^ were unregenerate and must be converted from darkness to light. The doctrine of election appeared to reveal the actual plan of human affairs. In economic life the thrifty, godly man succeeded, while his amusement-loving, intemperate neighbor failed. One man seemed chosen of Providence to advance and the other to retrograde. We should not smile at the Puritan explana- tion of experience. Calvinism is a good statement, in religious phraseology, to be sure, of the theory of the survival of the fittest in the struggle for existence. Naturally the social teadhings of Jesus made slight appeal to the individualistic, self-reliant, self-made man of the middle class. On the contrary, the Puritan found in the conflict of God's chosen people with the Canaanites a ready inter- pretation of his struggle with the "lewd nobility and gentry";'^ he discovered in the story of the Fall a vivid illustration of the doc- ""Hutton, in Social England, IV, ZS2. »iCf. Green, op. cit. III, 314. »2Quoted by Bateson, in Social England, IV, 160. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION I33 trine of total depravity ; he pushed to its logical extremes the Pauline theology with its doctrine of grace. 3. Puritanism failed politically, but succeeded spiritually. The ideal of Cromwell to place the exercise of military and political power in the hands of godly men could not be reconciled with demo- cratic constitutional development. Though the Ironsides were "formed strictly of 'men of religion' " and though "no blasphemy, drinking, disorder, or impiety were suffered in their ranks," ®^ con- trol by military force failed to accomplish a change of heart on the part of the nation. The "hundred and fifty-six men ... se- lected [for the Constituent Convention of 1653] . . . from lists furnished by the congregational churches" °* represented only a minority of the nation and abandoned the hopeless attempt to create the constitutional machinery for lower middle-class rule. Political Puritahism was compelled to stake its all on the person of one man; and the Commonwealth collapsed with the death of Cromwell. The political suicide of Puritanism and Independency was not followed by the permanent loss of its economic and spiritual in- fluence. In the towns the merchants thrived and made their power felt in the control of national policy. "Independency became the religion of the large towns, especially of London. The sect, of course, was the most hateful to the restored monarchy and the restored Church. Had it been possible, they would have been visited with the utmost severity of the Clarendon persecuting Acts. But these sectaries rapidly grew rich, and out of the trade which flourished exceedingly in the last quarter of the seventeenth century, they became the moneyed interest of London." °* Nor were the Dissenters completely without political influence. "Walpole's long tenure of power was due to a variety of causes. He was supported by the moneyed classes and by the Dissenters, who were promised the repeal of the Test and the Corporation Acts." °° Puritanism, while it did not succeed by statute in forcing its attitude toward life upon the people, accomplished its object by indirection. ■£sri32i^l-.6Sj^^S'i'^d]£ui!more§^^jof^^ "Puritanism," as Green says, "laid down the sword. It ceased from the long attempt to build up a kingdom of God by force and violence, 93Green, op. cit., Ill, 233. osRogers, op. cit., pp. 8S-S6. ^*IUd., p. 281. "^Hassall, in Social England, V, S. 134 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION and fell back on its truer work of building up a kingdom of right- eousness in the hearts and consciences of men. It was from the moment of its seeming fall that its real victory began. As soon as the wild orgy of the Restoration was over, men began to see that nothing that was really worthy in the work of Puritanism had been undone. The revels of Whitehall, the skepticism and debauchery of courtiers, the corruption of statesmen, left the mass of Englishmen what Puritanism had made them, serious, earnest, sober in life and conduct, firm in their love of Protestantism and of freedom. In the Revolution of 1688 Puritanism did the work of civil liberty which it had failed to do in that of 1642. It wrought out through Wesley and the revival of the eighteenth century the work of religious re- form which its earlier efforts had only thrown back for a hundred years. Slowly but steadily it introduced its own seriousness and \ purity into English society, English literature, English politics. The I history of English progress since the Restoration, on its moral ^and spiritual sides, has been the history of Puritanism." '^ Puritanism, therefore, like Mercantilism and the Reformation, was a projected expression of one phase of the mental attitude of the middle class. The co-operative mental attitude, arising out of the personal relations and association of the guild masters and em- bodied in their organization, was extended to the nation as the Mer- cantilistic policy. The intellectual unrest and interest of the middle class not only accelerated the forces that were making for the Reformation, but provided the social body for the acceptance of the theoretical principles of the leaders of the movement. Habits of thrift and a strict code of morals, functionally valuable to the sue- - cess of the individual of the lower middle class, were developed in the system of personal relations of the shop and the farm, and incorporated into the "mores" of the English people under the form of Puritanism. But while the mental and ethical attitudes generated by the system of personal relations of tiie shop and the manor were pro- foundly affecting English life, the economic basis for these personal relations was being undermined. While the strength of feudalism was broken by the Peasants' Revolt and the declining guilds had "practically been annihilated by the confiscation of their lands under Edward VI's guardian, Somerset," '"' yet personal ties still consti- oWp. cit.. Ill, 321-22. »8Gibbins, op. cit., p. 246. THE PERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION I35 tuted the effective social cement until their lessening cohesive force was dissipated in the reconstruction of the Industrial Revolution. So between the downfall of Puritanism and the rise of the industrial leaders, English national development exhibits the control of the country gentry and of the commercial interests. A paragraph will be sufficient to indicate the nature of the classes and forces in control in this transition period between the Restoration and the first Re- form Bill. The Restoration signified the defeat of the lower middle-class attempt to maintain control of the government. The artisans of the town and the freeholders of the county resumed their place of sub- ordination to the great merchants and the landlords. Gneist makes clear that the Restoration did not mean a recognition of the divine right of kings, but the intrenchment of the aristocracy in power and the development of a fanatical and militant class-consciousness.®* This dominant class is no longer composed exclusively of great houses as in feudal times, but comprises a "hereditary nobility within a much more numerous dominant class," ^"° the gentry. By control of the militia, by marked ascendancy in local government, by the sys- tem of entails, the gentry sought to lay a solid basis for the security and perpetuity of their position; by a high income qualification and control of "rotten" boroughs by the great country families, this class succeeded in dominating the House of Commons and, together with its exclusive representation in the House of Lords, in deter- mining the policy of the government.^"^ Throughout the eighteenth century the gentry was at all times in control of the government, despite^"^ the alternation of power between the two great political parties, the Tory and the Whig. In a theoretical way, this division in politics represented the contrast between the principle of submis- sion to the authority of church and sovereign and the principle of the right of resistance against unconstitutional encroachment, or as Gneist"* felicitously phrases it : " 'Church and Crown' was the watchword of the Tories, 'Throne and Altar,' of the Whigs." The line of separation, however, was not merely intellectual or tempera- mental, but was determined also by underlying class interests. While Gneist is undoubtedly right when he asserts^"* that "both »»0/>. cit., II, 281. lo'lbid.. II, 422-28. "o/ftjrf., II, 320. io3/6«rf., II, 424. "i/6»U. II, 373-79. "*76t. cit, II, 431. ^o^Ibid., II, 43SM1. CHAPTER X THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION By the impersonalization of industry are meant two closely re- lated things. Not only are impersonal relations substituted for personal relations, but the whole personality no longer functions in industry. The worker takes a place in an impersonal system, the entrepreneur follows out an impersonal policy. In both manufac- turing and agriculture, the evolution of the new system centered about the control of capital. Capital was required for the manu- facturer to instal machinery, to purchase the raw materials, and to pay the workman before the goods were marketed. In the same way capital was essential to the farmer in introducing the new ex- pensive agricultural methods. But the fundamental change involved in the transformation was psychic, and in its twofold aspect was to determine, not only the industrial, but also the political and social evolution. The process of impersonalization is not confined to production; it makes its way into all parts of economic and social life. Sombart indicates the extent to which capitalism changed personal ties into impersonal relations. "An 'impersonalization' [Versachlichung] always occurs where the efficiency of a system of man-made arrange- ments displaces direct individual or co-operative human effort. We observe a parallel phenomenon in technique where the imperson- alization consists in the transfer from vital human labor to a system of lifeless bodies, i.e., mechanical or chemical action. Military leadership becomes impersonal when the battle is no longer decided by the initiative of the general, but by the intelligent observance of all the accumulated experience of the past and by the utilization of scientific methods of strategy and tactics, of artillery and com- missariat, and so forth. A retail store becomes impersonal when the single head of the firm, who is in personal relations with the clerks and the customers, is supplanted by a board of directors: who control thousands of employees. This latter is accomplished by means of a system of organization to which every individual is subordinated. In such a store the concrete business transaction is 137 138 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION no longer a personal understanding between buyer and seller, but rather an automatic process operating according to certain definite standards. The collective labor contract makes the wage relation impersonal and so on. . . . [The] impersonalization of credit is the characteristic mark of modern national economy." ^ The tendencies to impersonalization are not merely economic, nor national alone, but social and world-wide. Economic value is no longer determined immediately in any particular case by the clash or concord of the interests of two persons, or by custom, but is set- tled in a quite impersonal way by a quotation from the board of trade. Life in the city illustrates in scores of ways the growth of impersonal relations. The enormous aggregations of population, the minute subdivision of labor, the many transient relations of persons, make impossible the effective functioning of personal ties. It is not to the character of the milk-dealer that you look, but to the impersonal certificate of inspection ; not the morals of the pack- ing magnates that you scrutinize, but the government inspector's stamp. The growing use of money and credit as a medium of ex- change brings into the power of the individual a whole sum of ser- vices whose impersonal nature scarcely gives a hint of their genetic connection with the give-and-take of the old personal industrial and social order. The growth and specialization of the professions and of expert knowledge in specific departments of thought and action have created the great impersonal function of an "authority." The rise of the newspaper with its anonymous editorial "we" and its detached statement of the news is but another force making for the impersonal character of this age. The modern social group, the public, is held together chiefly by ties of impersonal interest, although the influence of a striking personality is not entirely elim- inated. The phenomena of fashions and fads indicate at once their impersonal role and the futility of individual protest and resistance. Public opinion, pervasive, intangible, quite impersonal, a part of the spiritual breath of each of us, yet hardly more our own than the atmosphere which we inhale and exhale again, is a phenomenon of modern times. And even our great national elections where the individual adds but one vote to six or seven million votes cannot but give the reflective person a feeling of the utter impotence of personal participation and the impersonality of democracy. Wie Juden und das WirtschaftsUben, 1911, pp. 61-62. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 139 The transition from the personal relations of the guild and the manor to the impersonal relations of the factory and the estate was at first gradual and then abrupt. In manufacturing, the domestic system was the transitional industrial form between the guild and the modern factory system. As early as the middle of the four- teenth century, master-manufacturers, in order to escape the re- strictions of guild and municipality, left the towns and organized industrial communities in the country for the production of goods. In domestic industry are found in germ practically all the elements of the factory system except machinery. We observe" large aggre- gations of workmen, the beginnings of the subdivision of labor, the growing importance of capital, the tendency toward large-scale production, manufacture, not alone for the local, but also for the national market, and finally, the domination of the master-manufac- turer over all the processes of production and distribution. Yet even under the domestic arrangement, as in the modified guild sys- tem of the towns, the personal relations of master and men still survived. In a similar way, upon the breakdown of the manorial system, the personal relations of the squire and his tenants were but substituted for those of lord and serf,* even retaining a vestige of their old force after they were, in fact, actually superseded by the impersonal relations of landowner and hired laborers. We shall first state the external changes in the transition from the semi-mediaeval to the capitalist production, both in manufacture and in agriculture, and then attempt to analyze the reconstruction of the ways of thinking and action involved. The success of the national Mercantilistic policy, due in great part to England's strategic position, secured for her manufacturers a world-wide market. The consequent pressure of demand stimu- lated invention and led to the introduction of labor-saving machinery into industry. The extent of the change in the character of em- ployment incident to the transition from the domestic to the fac- tory system indicates the revolution in the habits and attitudes of mind of manufacturer and laborer. "In 1740 industry was domes- tic. Spinning and weaving were done at home in the cottages. The man worked the loom, working what hours he pleased ; his wife and children spent their spare time spinning yarn. Spinning, in ^Gibbins, op. cit., pp. 146-48. sProthero, Pioneers and Progress of English Farming, 1888, p. 73. I40 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION fact, was a by-industry, practiced as a subsidiary employment when it was too dark to labor in the fields. There were practically no factories and no manufacturers in the modern sense." * Even in Manchester the merchant gave out the raw material to the weaver and paid him for the processes of carding, rolling, spinning, and weaving." "In 1815 how complete is the contrast. We have the master and the mill. Men have become 'hands' working regular hours. Women and children also have taken their places beside the machinery that is fast superseding all the old methods." * While the village weaver and his family, deprived of their by-employ- ments, were becoming factory workers, the small freeholder and small farmer of the country were being depressed into landless laborers. In England the beginnings of capitalistic agriculture preceded, but its expansion was stimulated by the results of the introduction of machinery into industry. At the opening of the eighteenth cen- tury three-fifths of the cultivated land of England was still tilled on the open-field system described above with its management of co- partners and its holdings of a sum of scattered strips. The village community had remained an isolated, practically self-sufficing' economic unit. Although its inhabitants were no longer serfs, but freeholders, copyholders, and leaseholders, both for life and for short periods, the method of farming remained practically un- changed. From an economic standpoint the defects of the village system are obvious. "Unless the whole body of farmers agreed together, no individual could move hand or foot. It would be fin- ancial ruin for any member of the community to grow turnips or clover for the benefit of his neighbors. No winter crop could be grown so long as the arable fields were subjected to common rights of pasture. The land was wasted in innumerable footpaths and balks. The strips were too narrow to admit of cross-harrowing or cross-ploughing. Farmers spent their whole day in visiting the different parcels of which their holdings were composed, and their expenses in reaping and carting were immensely increased by the *Warner, in Social England, V, 601-2. 'Ibid., p. 602. 'Ibid., p. 602. 'Prothero, in Social England, V, 99-104. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 141 remoteness of the different strips. . . . Litigation was per- petual when it was so easy for men to plough up the common balks or headlands, remove their neighbors' landmarks, or poach their land by a turn of the plough, or filch their crops when reaping. . . . No individual owner could improve his own live-stock when all the half-starved, diseased cattle and sheep of the village were crowded together on the same commons." * These defects of the common-field system were emphasized by the experiments and success of the advocates of the new agricul- ture.' The theoretical experiments of Tull on the basis of his Euro- pean experience, the practical success of Lord Townshend in agri- cultural improvement stimulated the interests of the large land- lords. The new agriculture became a hobby with the landowners. The enormous growth of manufacturing consequent upon the utilization of machinery created a sudden increase in the demand for agricultural products. The increase in the price of food- stuffs° made agriculture, and especially improved cultivation, im- mensely profitable. It was the large landowner who appreciated the value of inclosures, and who took the lead in securing the re- distribution of land, frequently "with little regard to the interests of the smaller tenants and freeholders, who, in fact, suffered greatly." ^' Even if the reallotment were just, the parliamentary and legal expenses involved, and the fencing of the individual farms^^ placed a severe handicap upon the small farmers and yeo- men which finally led to their extinction. The relative rapidity of the enclosures affords us a statistical basis for reckoning the emergence of capitalistic farming. Only 334,974 acres were in- closed from 1710 to 1760," while from 1760 to 1805 the number increased to over 7,000,000." "Ibid., V, 104-5. *Wheat, on the basis of the numerical value of 20 for 1810, rose from 7H in 1701-66, to 11 in 1767-S9, to 17 in 1790-1803, and to 20 in 1804-10. (Young's Table; Cunningham, op. cit., II, 691; see also Prothero, Pioneers and Progress of English Farming, pp. 64, 87, 88-89). i^Gibbins, op. cit., p. 274; cf. Cunningham, op. cit, II, 486. iiCunningham, op. cit., II, 487. i^Toynbee, op. cit., pp. 38-9. ^^Cunningham, op. cit., II, 485, note. 142 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION The advance of capitalism in agriculture was marked by the emergence of the capitalist farmer and "the extinction of the com- moner, the small freeholder, the small farmer, and even the yeo- man." ^* Wealthy landlords found it of advantage to consolidate the small farms of one hundred acres and under into large farms of three hundred acres and over. Cunningham states the outcome of this policy as follows: "As the usual calculation appears to have been that at least five pounds an acre was the requisite capital in order to work the land, the large farmers were men who could start in life with 1,500 or 2,000 pounds ; and thus we find signs of a middle class in the country, who were capitalists and employers of labor, but who did not themselves own land, and did not engage in the actual work of the farms with their own hands. These men . . . were . . . able to afford better seed, better implements, and to work the land on better principles, and hence they were able to pay a larger rent than the small farmers who stuck to the old- fashioned methods." ^^ At a disadvantage economically, the small freeholder, small farmer, and tenant disappeared, and agriculture was now carried on by capitalist landlords, capitalist farmers, and landless laborers. "The improvements in agriculture, the inclosures, the consolidation of small into large farms, and the appearance of the capitalist farmer are, then, the chief signs of the Agricultural Revolution. They form an almost exact parallel to the inventions of machinery, the bringing together of workers in factories, the consolidation of small by-occupations into larger and more definite trades, and the appearance of the capitalist millowner in the realm of manufacturing industry." ^° The entrepreneur, both in agriculture and in industry, as a psychic type, was a differentiation of this period. The Industrial Revolution was only in an auxiliary way brought about by the com- mercial leaders of the period. The dynamic agents of the change were men of ability and energy who emerged from the working class and pushed their way to the front. Gaskell, in Artisans and Machinery," indicates the psychic incapacity of the old type of ^^Prothero, in Social England, V, 107. i^Cunningham, op. cit., II, 364-65. i^Gibbins, op. cit., p. 432. ^'P. 33 quoted in Cunningham, op. cit., II, 618. tHE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 143 business man to adjust himself to the situation. "Few of the men who entered the [cotton] trade rich were successful. They trusted too much to others — too little to themselves ; whilst on the contrary the men who prospered were raised by their own efforts — com- mencing in a very humble way, generally from exercising some handicraft, as clockmaking, hatting, etc., and pushing their advance by a series of unceasing exertions, having a very limited capital to begin with, or even none at all, saving their own labor." A survey of the leaders in the growing industries will show the truth of this statement. The general prosperity of the first half of the eighteenth Century had permitted a growing difference of fortune in the working class. Arkwright, the inventor of the water-frame, who triumphed over all but insurmountable obstacles in the establishment of the factory system, was a village barber.^* Wilkinson, "the first of the great iron-masters," was a son^' of a foreman at Blackbarrow. Josiah Wedgwood, the great pottery-maker, whose success depended as much upon his painstaking attention to detail as upon his striking inventions, started his career in apprenticeship to his brother.^" Crawshay, the "Iron King" of the south, was a Yorkshire lad and apprentice of a London ironmonger. His rise seems due'^^ to the fact that his master pitted his wits against women buyers of flat- irons. While many men of inherited wealth entered the growing manufacturing activities, the lives of the aforementioned self-made men represent the type of independent, inventive,, and aggressive individuals who comprised not only a large proportion of the big industrial magnates, but also practically the whole corps of the active managers and undertakers of industry. The most repulsive aspect of the new mental attitude of employers of labor is found in the small textile manufacturers, who, with comparatively little capital, were not only hard pressed by the machinery and the superior power of the big millowner, but were engaged in fierce competition with each other. These men, according to Cunningham, were "of a spe- cially coarse type, who were particularly inclined to tyrannize over a class but slightly beneath them, yet completely in their power." " ^Wictionary of National Biography, II, 81. I'Warner, in Social England, V, 313. mbid.,V- 319. ^^Ibid., p. 467. "Cunningham, op. cit., II, 626. 144 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION In agriculture, the large farmer would generally be selected from the more successful of the tenant farmers and his continued success would depend upon his ability further to depress the wages of the laborer to the margin of subsistence. While the new economic attitude is to be found in its sharpest outline in this emerging class of self-made men, it is not absent from the landowners and men who have inherited or accumulated money in trade. Capital naturally flowed to the promising fields of manu- facture and agriculture, and the impulse for gain became the ruling force in the lives of many men. The desire of the lord of the manor for sustenance, and the ambition of the artisan for standing in his class gave way to an irresistible striving for profit and endeavor to rise out of the class. The conditions for success in the competitive struggle, namely, the narrow and material character of aim, the organizing and executive ability required to get the most work out of the "hand," qualities of intense application, of inventiveness, and of progressiveness to make and to take advantage of mechanical and systematic improvements, of prevision to forecast the course of the market, of wariness to outwit and outgeneral competitors, made for the appearance of a new type of man in the industrial world. The "economic" man was not altogether an abstraction at that time. There were and still are thousands of men who carry on their busi- ness according to the implications of that idea. The essential error lay in generalizing the concept. While it is true that the quest for livelihood is incited by the strongest of human motives and has always directly or indirectly shaped the conduct of the great majority of men, the desire for gain and enlightened self-interest is a late human achievement and is still confined to a small fraction of the population. The change which exalted a portion of the working class into the capitalist undertaker and resulted in the development of the mental attitude known as individualistic had as far-reaching a psychic eflFect upon the depressed worker. The break-up of home industry and the modified guild arrangements involved the sundering of the personal ties between master-merchant and weaver, between master and apprentice. In the craft guilds and in the domestic manufac- tories a warm personal attachment and close dependence of the workman upon the employer constituted a strong social bond. " 'Masters and men,' " Toynbee reports an employer as saying. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION I4S '"were, in general, so joined together in sentiment, and, if I may- be permitted to use the term, in love to each other, that they did not wish to be separated if they could help it.' " "* The change of atti- tude involved in the transition to the factory system is thus stated by an employer : " 'It is as impossible to effect a union between the high and low classes of society as to mix oil and water ; there is no reciprocity of feeling between them. . . . There can be no union between employer and employed, because it is the interest of the employer to get as much as he can, done for the smallest sum possible.' " " In the rural districts the change was as marked. " 'The farmer,' says Cobbett, 'used to sit at the oak table along with his men, say grace to them, and cut up the meat and the pud- ding. He might take a cup of strong beer to himself, when they had none ; but that was pretty nearly all the difference in the manner of living.' " "^ The agrarian revolution changed all this. "The laborer ceased to be a member of the farmer's household, and, to use Cobbett's words, was thrust out of the farm-house into a hovel. Exceeding bitter was the laborer's cry. 'The farmers,' said one, 'take no more notice of us than if we were dumb beasts; they let us eat our crust by the ditch-side.' " ^° The introduction of the machine and of system not only changed the relations of man to man but revolutionized the relation of the man to his work.^' The restriction of human labor to a monotonous mechanical process involving the repetition of a few muscular movements signified the divorce of personality from labor. "The position of the worker in the modern factory came to be that of assisting the machine rather than that of supplying the energy to the hand or machine tool." ** The sense of control over work, so marked in the guild arrangement, was superseded by the dom- inance of the machine over labor. The machine and system set the pace ; the slow worker was speeded up to the time-rate of the faster; more work was got out of the individual than under the 2S0/,. cit., p. 184. =s/6iU, p. 185. ^*Ibid., p. 191. 2»/6»rf., pp. 191-92. 2'Marx, Capital, (translated by Moore and Aveling from 3rd German ed.), 1889, I, 353-63. Cf. Veblen, Theory of Business Enterprise, 1904, chaps, ii, ix; also pp. 307 ff. 28McGregor, The Evolution of Industry, 1911, p. 40. 146 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION spur of the personal relations of the manor and the guild. The bent of the individual was not utilized; the slight necessary skill was too easily acquired to become of value as a personal asset ; the flagging attention was sustained by no personal interest in the prod- uct fashioned by the machine. The impulse to live up to the customary standards of life of the group in which the individual finds himself now became subordinate to the requirements of a bare subsistence. Economic necessity forced the parents to place children scarcely out of baby- hood in the factory. The artisan and the home-worker, alike vic- tims of an industrial change to which they could not adapt them- selves, put off as long as possible the moral as well as social reproach of "factory girl" upon their daughters.^' But starvation wages finally forced the workman to send his wife and children to . the factory.'" The attitude of the workman changed with changed conditions. Indolent pa,rents lived in idleness off the wages of their offspring; early marriage and large families became the econom- ically wise policy.^^ No stronger evidence of the in^personal charac- ter of the economic attitude of this period can be given than the fact that "with a bankrupt's effects, a gang of these children had been put up to sale, and advertised publicly as part of the prop- erty," " If the moral sense of workman as of entrepreneur appears to have become dulled in the struggle for existence, the very character of the mechanical process must of necessity have influenced the atti- tude and the thinking of the proletarian. While the uncertainty of climatic conditions in relation to agriculture tended to make the peasant superstitious and susceptible to confidence in unseen powers ; while the control of the artisan over the processes of manufacture made for self-reliance and the abandonment of superstition, the role 28Gibbins, op. cit., p. 388. Cf. Alfred, History of the Factory Movement, 1857, I, 16. »»Gibbins, op. cit., p. 388. ^''■Ibid., pp. 397-98. "In some districts so great was the demand for children's labor that an indispensable condition of marriage among the working classes was the certainty of offspring whose wages, beginning at six years old, might keep their inhuman fathers and mothers in idleness." Cf. Alfred, op. cit., I, 158. s^Gibbins, op. cit., p 393 ; quoted in Alfred, op. cit., I, 43. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION I47 of the workman as an accessory to a mechanical process, together with a quite total lack of control over conditions of employment and rewards of labor, tended to destroy both self-confidence and, at the same time, faith in divine providence. There was little opening in the monotonous life of the factory workman to perceive the i working of an "invisible hand," and every occasion to refer his miserable condition to the unfair advantage of the millowner. The smouldering discontent of the workman was not to be extinguished as, easily as that of his peasant ancestor. The labor movement of the fourteenth century was not group-conscious, and lacked definite aims ; the labor movement of the nineteenth century has become con- scious of its ends, purposive and ideational. The hopes of the work- man soon centered about the development of a few simple ideas. After futile riots, the workman gave up the instinctive direct action and controlled his course by ideas of indirect action. The basic idea was association, to make up in numbers for the weakness of the individual. Various forms of this conception served as rallying- cries at diflFerent times and for different classes of workmen. The idea of associations to fight the capitalist in the labor market led to the organization of labor unions; the idea of association for gov- ernment intervention led to Chartism and the present Labor party ; th6 idea of working-class reconstruction of the industrial order through state control is the program of the Socialists. Certain of these incipient programs originated in the working class, but many of them, at least in their effective form, came from without. It is necessary, therefore, to give an account of these wider social in- fluences as well as to disclose the significance of the ascendancy of the capitalist in modern society. Three great general forces, those of religion, of patriotism, and of science, are now to be considered before we can estimate the role in social change of the psychic attitude of entrepreneur and workman. The participation of the workingman in religious sentiment, in national feeling, and in education had a directing and moderating influence on his efiforts for economic betterment. 1. The Puritan movement had been largely a middle-class phenomenon and displayed in an accentuated way the "mores" of the economically aspiring yeoman and artisan;^' the Methodist awakening was almost entirely confined to the working class, and, ^^Supra, pp. 128-35. 148 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION with a retention of the Puritan attitude toward amusements and ex- travagance, introduced into religion a warmth of social feeling so necessary to cement the union of laborers in their economic struggle. The training of new leaders and the mental awakening among the laborers cannot be ignored among the forces that made for the social efficiency of labor unions and labor movements. A short review of the origin and early development of Methodism is suf- ficient to make clear the foregoing points. John Wesley, like Wycliffe, was an Oxford man and sought his followers among the working classes. The real significance of the Methodist movement lay in the fact that it denoted the active participation of the "fourth estate" in religious life. Rogers has indicated quite conclusively the economic conditions which made possible Wesley's work. "The movement which the brothers Wes- ley began and carried out was chiefly among the laboring classes. . . . I am strongly convinced that Wesley, who labored with so much success and effected so powerful an organizatibn in the eighteenth century, would have wasted his labor in the seventeenth. During the first half of the eighteenth century, and indeed further on, prices were far lower than in the previous century, wages rose slightly. . . . There was, therefore, in the comparative plenty of the time an opening for a religious movement among the poor, and Wesley was equal to the occasion." '* Before Wesley's time, the peasant and laborer were content with attendance at the parish church. In the first half of the eighteenth century, the Church of England was in one of its lowest spiritual stages. While the plurali- ties and non-residence of the higher clergy were a scandal among the upper classes, the social degradation of the country parson and his subserviency to the gentry earned him the contempt of the laborer." At any rate, a large proportion of the upper and middle strata of the working people left the church for the chapel. The influence of the Methodist revival was not confined to the sect which bears Wesley's name, but was diffused and radiated in the evangelical movement. Wilberforce, whose Practical View went through five editions in half a year, though a high churchman, was animated by the social spirit of the movement.'* The fact that two millions ^*0p. cit., p. 88. 3»Beazley, in Social England, V, 409-10. ^''Dictionary of National Biography, LXI, 209. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 149 of tracts from the pen of Hannah More were circulated" in one year throughout England indicates the extent of the new religious propaganda throughout the working class. With a narrower, but more vital appeal, Southey, Wordsworth, and Coleridge radiated** the revivified religious enthusiasm which they had experienced. Statistics show that the full force of the evangelical movement was not confined to denominations which originated at this time, but greatly increased the membership of the nonconformist sects. Comprising, it is estimated, only one-twentieth of the English people in 1700, the Dissenters numbered fully one-fifth of the population in 1800,*^ and in 1900 apparently one-half.*" The statistics of registration of places of worship indicate the extent of the revival of Nonconformity under the stimulus of the Wes- leyan movement. In the ten-year period from 1731 to 1740 the number of new registrations was only 448, while from 1791 to 1800 they increased to 4,394; froni 1801 to 1810, to 5,460; and from 1811 to 1820, to 10,161.*^ The old Puritan sects ceased to be petty communities of the upper middle class and secured a sub- stantial body of adherents in the lower middle and upper working classes. The most active and creative participation of the working class in religious life is exemplified in the Primitive Methodist move- ment. The work of the Primitive Methodists was among the poorer classes ; their leaders were from the workingmen. "With admirable self-devotion they went to work among the poorest and most de- graded of the people in town and village. They had not a college- bred man among them; their preachers endured the sorest priva- tions without a murmur; the world despised them, and as they heard them preach and sing, called them Ranters ; still they grew, sweeping over England and penetrating everywhere. . . . The adherents were nearly all working people — fisher-folk, persons em- ployed in mills, collieries, and mines, or as laborers on the land. ^Ubid.. XXXVIII, 418. ^^Social England, V, S4S. 2*Beazley, in Social England, V, 403. ^oThe statistics for the Free churches are 2,178,211 to 2,053,455 com- municants for the Church of England. However, the influence and power of the latter holds a higher ratio to its membership. *iBeazley, in Social England, V, 240. ISO THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION . . . The ten members of 1808 have grown to 200,000; they have 4,000 chapels and 16,000 local preachers." *^ The significance of the religious movement among the laborers is not confined to the strictly religious effects which Wesley and his followers had in mind. Nor is its main economic meaning in the fact that a group of men acquired habits of sobriety and in- dustry which tended to make them less dependent on the parish, or enabled many gradually to rise out of the lowest levels of indus- trial depression. Mr. Richard Heath shows concretely the wider social and economic meaning of the religious movement of the Primitive Methodists in a particular locality: "The Primitive Methodist United Free Church has a circuit in the neighborhood with eighteen chapels, each managed by its own congregation, and ministered to by local preachers. Two regular ministers superin- tend the whole circuit. Under this system Oxfordshire laborers have learned something of the art of self-goVemment, and how to submit loyally to men of their own choice. It has taught the leaders how to organize and how to sustain the burden of a great undertaking. Thus they have learned to have faith in the ultimate triumph of a principle; thus they have obtained power to endure in hours of weakness and apparent defeat; and thus they have learned to retain calmness in hours of prosperity." *^ "It is a happy thing that the new movement for union among the laborers [the National Agricultural Union] is under the leadership of Christian men, who in their own religious communities have had some prac- tice in fellowship ; for the laborers, feeling their ignorance and in- experience, follow their leaders unreservedly." ** While I do not mean to maintain that the labor movement was in any sense con- nected with the doctrinal beliefs of the Methodist communities, I do contend that the opportunity for personal development and lead- ership which they offered was of importance in the beginnings of the labor movement. Joseph Arch, from his ninth year a poor agricultural laborer in contact with the mental world without only through the Bible and the weekly newspaper, late in life a local preacher, was the founder and promoter*^ of the union movement among the English agricultural laborers. Methodists and Dissent- *2Beazley, in Social England. VI, 146-47. <3Heath, The English Peasant, 1893, pp. 228-29. **Ibid., p. 228. «/6irf., p. 232. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION IS I jng ministers took a prominent part in the early labor movement. Joseph R. Stephens, "celebrated as the advocate of factory legisla- tion and Chartism," *° was a Methodist preacher. The six Dorset- shire laborers sentenced to seven years' transportation for their activity in labor organization were "simple-minded Methodists, two of them being itinerant preachers." " The great procession of protest across London in 1834 was "led by a Dissenting parson on horseback." *^ The extent of the influence of workingmen's par- ticipation in the church is shown by the fact that the National Union of the Working Classes was "an organization modelled on the plan of the Methodist connexion." *° So the religious move- ment of the working class not only gave a medium for more active moral and mental development, but provided leaders and patterns for an organized economic movement. 2. The nineteenth century witnessed the participation of the working class, not only in the religious life, but also in the patriotic sentiment of the nation. The Napoleonic wars and the threat of invasion gave a strong impetus to English national feeling. "The wild alarm which seized the best-informed, the upper and middle classes, lest revolutionary doctrine should take hold in England was changed into an alarm which affected all classes, but was most strongly felt among the poorest and least well-informed." °'' "In October, 1804, Napoleon was preparing to invade England, and huge patriotic handbills called upon all Englishmen to arm in defense of their country. In quibs and broadsides against Bonaparte every- thing was said that could excite popular feeling against him. He was a Mahometan who had poisoned his sick at Jaffa, he had incited his hell hounds to execute his vengeance on England by promising to permit anything. 'He promised to enrich his soldiers with our property, to glut their lust with our wives and daughters.' The clergy preached on defense, the poets wrote patriotic ballads. Every county had meetings to organize defense. There were fast-days *«Webb, History of Trade Unionism, 1911 ed., pp. 287-88. *''Ibid., p. 131. **S?ignobos, Political History of Europe since 1814, 1899 (Mac Vane's trans.), p. SO. *^Dictionary of National Biography, XXXIV, 178. soBateson, in Social England, V, 614. 152 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION solemnly kept, and used by volunteers for drill." ^^ One of a child's earliest impressions was the terror associated with the men- tion of the Corsican. "The momentous struggle against Napoleon monopolized men's attention, and the conversation of our great- grandfathers centered around 'Old Boney,' whom they regarded as the very devil. . . . His name was used as a bogey to frighten children." °- Before the specter of French invasion, the villager and the factory hand became vividly conscious of their membership in the English nation. In the presence of the common danger, though suffering acute misery and pressed by famine,"' the workingmen inhibited overt expression of class discontent. Thus, nationalism distinctly crossed the limen of the social con- sciousness and profoundly affected English life. The war with Napoleon was only one of a number of factors working toward this end. The aggregation of population in the cities, the philanthropic and humanitarian movements of the nine- teenth century, the political agitation of labor during the same period, and the spread of knowledge and education among the masses are certain of the components of the plexus of influences, which, taken together, pushed the workman above the threshold of the national social consciousness. An additional paragraph will suffice to indicate the general resultant of this play of forces. (a) Physical contact in the city furnished the basis for psychic contact. Urban communities presented a flood of stimuli instead of the narrow stream of village life. Even before the "yellow" newspaper captivated the working classes, bulletins and word-of- mouth conveyed tidings and rumors of war. Jingoism is a phenom- enon of the city and finds its most unreflective and disinterested support in the Chauvinism of the working class, (b) While this crude patriotic spirit was rising to flood-tide in the lower classes, the middle classes, sickening of warfare, were furnishing leaders of philanthropic and humanitarian movements, which, in a sympa- thetic, if also sentimental, way included the economically dependent in broad plans of amelioration. The Utopian schemes of Owen and others of that ilk, Howard's crusade against vile prison conditions, '^Bateson, in Social England, V, 614-15. "Synge, Social Life in England, 1906, pp. 333-34. **Bateson, in Social England, V, 614. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION I S3 the anti-slavery movement, the agitation against long hours of labor for women and children, the temperance propaganda, all involved, directly or indirectly, the recognition of the workingman and of the responsibility of society for his well-being, (c) The dissatisfac- tion of the workingmen with existing conditions and their active efforts to call attention to the miseries of their situation were not without meaning for the development of the sense of the organic unity of society. A city riot or a strike fixed the attention of a nation upon a labor maladjustment. The national organization of trade unions promoted an awareness of the extent of the labor problem: the situation was perceived to be no longer local, but nation-wide. The fact that the Chartist movement called for a political program emphasized the appreciation by the working class of the possible function of the state in the promotion of industrial welfare. Then, too, the admittance of the working class to the ballot tended inevitably to stimulate patriotism, (d) The spread of education among the people was the resultant of a most curious combination of motives, ranging from the religious feeling that every boy and girl should be able to read the Bible, to the upper-class notion of the inculcation of obedience to betters, to the middle-class conviction that a knowledge of the remorseless working of the laws of political economy would silence the labor discontent. Whatever the animus of Bell and Graham, Robert Raikes, or Hannah More, the day school, the Sunday school, the novel were but different aspects of the tendency to admit the work- ing class to the crumbs from the table of the accumulated knowl- edge of the age. Urban life, philanthropy and social reform, par- ticipation in political and educational life tended to weld the working classes into the social unity and social consciousness of the nation. 3. The influence of education and science was not confined to its minor part in stimulating patriotism. Its chief significance lies in three facts. In the first plac6, the advance of knowledge led to the rise of a distinct social class whose control of the activity of other men depended, not upon physical, political, ecclesiastical, or economic coercion nor yet upon the prestige of king or priest or landlord, but upon the appeal to reason and upon an impersonal, detached attitude toward physical phenomena and, so far as pos- sible, toward society. The elimination of the personal equation in method, the objective character of scientific results, the validity of 1 54 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION which depends upon the assent of all rational minds, the universality of its conclusions with its assumption of impartiality between races and classes — all worked together for the creation of a new in- fluence in national life cofnprehending the interests of all and amenable to higher mental processes alone. In the second place, the intimate relation of science and knowledge to practical applica- tion in industry could not but cause its value to be appreciated by all classes of society. The divorce of science from metaphysical speculation made possible a wide extension of the frontiers of demonstrable knowledge. The brilliant discoveries in physics in the seventeenth century did not have any immediate economic utility, any more than the electrical experiments of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. The movement that ex- alted science and knowledge to the rank of prime factors in human progress was in large measure the result of the change in the char- acter of industry. Improved agricultural methods inevitably meant the practical use of chemistry; the invention and introduction of machinery made possible applied mechanics and led to the de- velopment of the theoretical analysis of frames in the nineteenth century;"* while "the rapid development of the steam engine in England during the latter part of the eighteenth century had a marked effect on the progress of the science of heat." " In the third place, knowledge and science with their tendency to esoteric exclusiveness came to exercise an almost hypnotic effect upon the thought and conduct of the people. We shall speak here only of social science. Lesser minds were paralyzed and the thinking of great intellects profoundly influenced by a conception of society, thought through and logically reconstructed by a master-thinker. It is possible, it may be argued, to overestimate the actual influence of scientific thought in everyday life. Yet an analysis of the effects of social theory in practical life will modify the force of this objec- tion. The influence of Hobbes, Locke, and Hume was tremendous ; the extent and intensity of the opposition to them are sufficient to indicate this. Adam Smith was not long in converting the Glasgow merchants to free trade f his Wealth of Nations soon became the "♦Article on "Mechanics," Nelson's Encyclopaedia, 1907, VIII, S8. ^'Callender, "Heat," in Encyclopaedia Britannica, 11th ed., XIII, 137. »«Rae, Life of Adam Smith, 1895, pp. 60-61. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION ISS guidebook of English statesmen."^ Ricardo brought the members of Parliament, even the country squires, around to his way of thinking, and "reigned without dispute in English Economics from 1817 to 1848." ^* In 1833 Nassau Senior, an authority on political economy, was sought by the Liberal government for his advice in regard to its action against the demonstrations of Owen's immense Trades Union.^* The influence of social science was not confined to the conversion of the upper classes with whose interests classical political economy coincided, but it also exercised control over the opinion and activity of the working classes. This influence was both negative and positive. The immediate effect of classical political economy was to inhibit the activities of trade unions. The leaders of the labor movement came in contact with the theories of the Manchester school, and with the collapse of Chartism resigned themselves to the teachings of the then "dismal" science. J. E. Symes, in Social England, states the change of attitude: "The more intelligent of the working classes were beginning to realize how much they had it in their power to do for themselves by means of their unions and without the aid of Parliament. The need of more thorough and accurate knowledge of economic subjects began to be felt, and some of the unions devoted a portion of their funds to mutual improvement classes and the purchase of books. Their leaders began to denounce strikes, and to point out the need for more education, both general and technical." *" Then, too, the classical school, although dominating the activities of the trade unions for a generation, stimulated an antagonistic movement, which, while accepting its dogmas, turned them against the system. As Toynbee puts it, Ricardo's book was at once "the great prop of the middle classes and their most terrible menace."*^ Henry George, accepting Malthus' generalization on population and Ricardo's theory of rent, demanded "the confiscation of rent in the interests of population" ; "^ Marx deduced from Ricardo's "iron law" of wages and his theory of value^^ the progressive de- moralization of the laboring classes and his surplus-value theory. 67Haldane, Life of Adam Smith, 1887, p. 76. esToynbee, op. cit., p. 127. eiToynbee, op. cit., p. 127. s^Seignobos, op. cit., p. 49. ^^Rogers, op. cit., p. 7. «0Social England. VI, 423-24. "sToynbee, op. cit., p. 130. IS6 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION Thus the incisive thinking of the Manchester school not only par- alyzed the direct activities of labor, but stimulated and modified the thinking of great minds sympathetic with the oppressed classes. The significance of the situation was that the emergence of the social sciences at once lifted the struggle out of the arena of purely physical struggle into an intellectual contest, so that in the future rational discussion, expert investigation, impersonal judgment came to exert a higher control and tended progressively to subordinate to its dictum mob action, street riots, and strikes. Toynbee, in an address to laboring men, emphasizes this point: "In conclusion, I would entreat workingmen to believe that Political Economy is no longer an instrument for the aggrandizement of the rich and the impoverishment of the poor ; that in as far as it is a science at all, it endeavors to explain the laws by which wealth is produced and distributed by men, as they are at present constituted under the existing institutions of society ; that, as a theoretical science, it pro- nounces no judgment on these laws, nor on the conduct of laborers and employers; but that as a practical science, it does frame precepts, not in the interests of the employers alone, not in the interests of the workmen alone, but in the interests of the whole people." ** Thus the three great influences of religion, nationalism, and science exercised a unifying control over the group struggle in Eng- land. Keeping these general factors in mind, we shall attempt briefly to show that English history in the nineteenth century was a resultant of class conflict, at first between the aristocracy and the industrial classes, and later between the capitalist and the work- ingman. With the Industrial Revolution economic power passed from the hands of the landed gentry into the grasp of the captains of industry. The nature of the increase of population in England gives us a statistical basis for estimating the transfer of power involved. The population of England in 1760 was under 7,000,000; sixty years later it had risen to 12,000,000 ; today, it is considerably more than twice the latter figure. This increase of population was not uni- form. Toynbee'^ has a chart which shows the extraordinary in- crease in the principal towns between 1685 and 1760 and between the latter date and 1881. Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, «*Toynbee, op. cit., p. 177. «=/6i(i., p. 36. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION IS7 Leeds, and Sheffield grew from small towns of 4,000 to 7,000 in 1685 to small cities of 20,000 to 40,000 in 1760. In 1901 there were forty-six cities of over 80,000 inhabitants in England.^® The shift of population was not only toward the city, but also occupational and geographical. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, Gregory King estimates that of five and one-half millions of population over four millions lived in villages and hamlets and constituted the agricultural population; while at the end of the century Young estimates the rural and agricultural population at nearly one-half the total.^' The counties north of the Trent, com- prising one-third of England's area, contained in 1700 only one- fourth of the population ; in 1750, less than one-third,** while today they possess over two-fifths.°^ The rise of cities, the predominance of manufacture over agriculture, and the movement of the great- est density of population to the northwest are the social changes capable of resolution into numerical terms, which changed the rela- tive power t)f English classes. "The 'old England,' " says Seig- nobos, "the England of the south and east, that England which had organized the government and the church was aristocratic and Anglican, and is still; docile under the hands of its nobility and clergy, it has remained the mainstay of the Conservatives. But . . . the new industrial England of the north and west is largely made up of Dissenters. These democratic societies and Dissenters are naturally opposed to a system which excluded them from politi- cal power and treats their religion as inferior. It is they who have recruited the opposition parties against the English nobility and the Anglican church. It is the Irish, the Scotch, the Welsh, the English of the north and west, who have formed and who still form the mass of the Liberal and Radical parties. It is they who have brought a democratic evolution upon 'old England.' " '" This aggregation and shift of population, prophetic as it was of future industrial and political democracy, betokened at the moment merely the economic dominance of the new leaders of enterprise, the ^^Encyclopaedia Britannica, IX, 419. «TToynbee, op. cit., p. 37. «8/6trf., p. 34. «»The Census of igoi gives 13,297,771 out of 30,807,232, ^"Seignobos, op. cit., p. 99. IS8 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION capitalists and entrepreneurs. At the moment the wielders of this tremendous industrial influence did not seek to transform it into political control. The explanation is obvious. The accession of the capitalist landlord and manufacturer to power coincided with the rise of the classical school of political economy. Then, too, the financial burden of the French Revolution made the standpoint of the individuallnanufacturer "how I can get more wealth to enlarge my factory and purchase new machinery" identical in fact with the problem of the statesman "how to obtain sufficient revenue to finance the gigantic struggle against Napoleon." The enormous increase of poor-rates proportionate upon the size of the family, which stimu- lated an unheard-of growth of population, not only furnished men to fight for the king, but provided an abundant supply of cheap hands for the factory-owner and for the farmer. The landlords succeeded practically in prohibiting the importation of corn during the conti- nental struggle, and in extending the prohibition after the war.^^ Moreover, by their influence in Parliament they threw the burden of the extra war taxation upon articles of trade manufacture and gen- eral consumption,'^ and even avoided the inheritance tax.'' The conclusion of the struggle witnessed the landowning and privileged classes still strongly intrenched in political control, the capitalist manufacturers grown powerful by the accumulation'* of wealth, the working classes depressed to the limits of subsistence under the .staggering burden'" of taxation, of the falling of wages, and of the raising of rents. But the main result of the downfall of Napoleon was to throw the market of Europe and of the world open to the English manufacturer and to make imperative his control of political power in order to advance his commercial and industrial aims. The rise of the employing class to political power was but a natural consequence of its economic preponderance. The middle class marshaled the workingman under its banners in its fight with the landed aristocracy for admission to the suffrage, but the em- 'iGibbins, op. cit., p. 375. 'V6«U, pp. 375, 435. "Rogers, op. cit., pp. 473-74. '*Exports increased from seventeen to fifty-eight million pounds from 1793 to 1815. (Gibbins, op. cit., pp. 374-75). «/6iU, p. 375. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION ISQ ployer had little intention of assisting his factory hands in their demand for the suffrage. The tightening of the screws of the Mer- cantilistic policy during the Napoleonic wars and the dominance of the landed interest in the government gave way before the question of the proper representation in Parliament. While the leaders of the masses of the people demanded universal suffrage, the middle classes utilized the force of the democratic pressure'" to secure in 1832 its own admission to the ballot. The English, like the French bourgeoisie, turned the riots and uprisings of the people to middle- class advantage. The expectation of the workingman for the boon of universal suffrage at the hands of the middle-class reformers was doomed to disappointment. The Liberal premier officially stated that electoral reform was an accomplished fact, and the Commons endorsed his position by a vote of 500 to 22.'' As a matter of fact, the politically conscious business men believed implicitly in middle-class control and frankly avowed it. "The sooner," says Cobden, and Cobden was a progressive, "the power in this country is transferred from the landed aristocracy, which has so misused it, and is placed abso- lutely — niind, I say absolutely — in the hands of the intelligent middle and industrious classes, the better for the condition and the destinies of this country." '* Bright was in complete agreement with his fellow-reformer. "Recent progress, he said, was due 'to the manly contest of the industrial and commercial against the aristocratic and privileged classes of the country.' " '" Indeed, the first Reform Bill, so far from extending the suffrage among the working classes, actually reduced^" the small number of workingmen who in certain boroughs- had retained the right to vote. The actual result of the disfranchisement of the rotten boroughs and the redistribution of these seats among the large cities and the counties and the limited extension of the suffrage was to give the middle class for a genera- tion a dominant influence in legislation. So radical was the shift in the balance of power that, despite ten general elections between '^Symes, in Social England, VI, 93-94. ^'Seignobos, op. cit., pp. 50-51. i 'SMorley, Life of Cobden, 1883, p. 197. ''dictionary of National Biography Supplement, 1901, I, 289. '"Seignobos, op. cit., p. 36, note. l6o THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION the first and the second Reform Acts, the Conservatives gained con- trol'^ of but one parliament and was in office during this period of thirty-four years but one-fourth of the time.'^ The proof is over- whelming that the first Reform Act secured political preponderance for a class already supreme in the economic field. The admission of the middle classes to political power was soon felt. The legislation during this period exhibits the class character and interests of the groups framing it. The efforts of Wilberforce and Clarkson had finally, secured the abolition of the slave trade in 1807, followed in 1834 by the emancipation of the slaves." But the humanity that the middle class manifested for the negro in the West Indies was not strong enough to overcome self-interest in the con- sideration of the "white" slaves in English factories. The various Factory Acts** were supported and passed by the landlords and farmers over the bitterest opposition of the manufacturers and economists. A mixture of hypocrisy and of reliance upon the Man- chester dogmas characterized the utterances of business men. In a petition of the time the manufacturers set forth the "unimpeachable character for humanity and kindness possessed by manufacturers as a class" and denounce" "the pernicious tendency of all legislative enactments upon trade and manufacturers." Ricardo "supported the opposition of the manufacturers," '* John Bright, "the people's friend," denounced the Ten Hours' Bill limiting the duration of labor for women and children" as one of the worst measures ever passed in the shape of an Act of the legislature." " When Harriet Martineau was driven, by the evidence collected by the Factory Com- missioners in 1833, to admit that "the case of these wretched factory children seems desperate," she goes on to add, "the only hope seems to be that the race will die out in two or three generations." '* The siThat of 1841 which by irony of fate repealed the Corn Laws by a coalition of Liberals with one-third of the Conservative strength led by Peel. '^Seignobos, op. cit., p. 41. **Cunningham, op. cit., II, 599. Cf. Seignobos, op. cit., p. 59. "Acts of 1802, 1819, 1831, 1833, 1847, 1850; Gibbins, op. cit., pp. 403-4. s^Gibbins, op. cit., p. 396. '^Toynbee, op. cit., p. 130. "■Gibbins, op. cit., p. 405, authority of Hansard, third series, Vol. 89, p. 1148. 8»Autobiography, 1877, II, 215. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION l6l division of classes and the hardness and blindness of the self-interest that secured this legislation are evinced in the statement of Lord Shaftesbury to Professor Rogers that he dared not include the agri- cultural laborers in the provisions of the act for fear of alienating the support of the landlords and the farmers.'" No stronger evi- dence is needed to disclose the impersonal political manifestations of the economic interest than this recital of the class character of the factory legislation. The manufacturers obtained revenge on the landowners by a suc- cessful popular campaign led by Cobden, a self-made manufac- turer,'" and by Bright, a millowner of Rochdale, which crystallized in 1846 in the legislation repealing the Com Laws. The policy of free trade which had already influenced the British fiscal measures now took possession of the field ; the number of articles which paid duty in 1842 was 1,052 ; in 1860 only 48." But why has England maintained a free-trade policy contrary to the practice of other coun- tries? The adherence of England to free trade when the business men and the political leaders of other countries were turning their attention toward protection is to be explained in part by the con- tinued prestige of the classical school of political economy, in part by the continued economic and political supremacy of the middle class, but more adequately and more fundamentally by reason of its relation to the objective commercial conditions which actually deter- mined the economic theories and practices of the manufacturer. With the momentum of his big start in machine production, in pos- session of a world-market for his goods, the English manufacturer was interested, not in the monopoly of the home market, but in the control of a world-market. Little wonder that the great European powers in their attempt at self-protection reared tariff walls to repel the invasion of cheap English goods, and endeavored at the same time to stimulate native industry by an effective control of national demand ! In Traill's Social England the end of the period of middle-class rule is placed to coincide with the death of Palmerston in 1865 ;°^ 8»Rogers, op. cit., pp. 355-56. '^Dictionary of National Biography, XI, 148 ff. o^Social England. VI, 430. 9V6ti., pp. 250-450. l62 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION Spencer"' finds the year 1860 a convenient point for beginning the enumeration of his celebrated catalogue of the "stigmata" of the new Toryism. A less arbitrary date for ending the period would be the Reform Bill of 1867, which admitted the upper class of workingmen in the cities to the franchise, and marked the emergence of the workingman as a factor to be reckoned with in the general elections. Although at that time, as later in 1884, the Conservative and the Liberal parties were both bidding for popular support,^* it is of importance to note how the interests of the parties determined the provisions of the measures. The moderate Liberals defeated the bill for the extension of the suffrage in 1866."' In 1867 the Tories under Disraeli, who "had long felt that an electorate frankly demo- cratic was a welcome alternative to the political ascendancy of the middle classes" "' took the initiative in pushing through Parliament the second Reform Bill which admitted male householders to the franchise."^ Whether the Conservatives sought to turn to their own advantage the growing antagonism of capital and labor, or appre- ciated the appeal that imperialism, for a time at least, would make to the poorer classes, and foresaw that the cities would become Tory strongholds, they, at any rate, attempted" to put their party in as advantageous a position as possible in the inevitable extension of the suffrage. In 1884-85 the Liberals under Gladstone carried through a measure which placed the country electorates on an identical basis with the boroughs, a scheme distasteful to the great landlords whose parliamentary representatives could scarcely more than hint of "the unfitness of the agricultural laborer for the vote." " The middle- class ascendancy which had continued for a generation was now over. The Reform Bill of 1867 marks the end of the laissez-faire policy in Parliament. The Manchester school conceived the whole industrial system to be a great, impersonal mechanism propelled by the motivating force of self-interest, at its highest point of efificiency "^Spencer, Social Statics, 1892, pp. 290-96. 9*Seignobos, op. cit., pp. 68-69, '"Sanders, in Social England, VI, 453. »«Low and Sanders, Political History of England, 1907, XII, 208. "'Sanders, in Social England, VI, 454. ssSeignobos, op. cit., p. 69, note. "'Low and Sanders, op. cit., XII, 353. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCULIZATION 163 with a minimum of state interference. Yet to objectify this con- ception of social and economic organization, it was necessary to control Parliament and to use the state as the agent to remove restric- tions. Despite this necessary inconsistency, the reform of the poor system, the reorganization of local and county administration, the repeal of the Corn Laws and of the Navigation Acts, the Commer- cial Treaty of 1860 with France, were all parts of the legislative program of Liberalism and quite in accord with the teachings of Adam Smith and his followers. But the extension of the franchise to the laborers was the signal for a radical departure from the teach- ings of political economy. While the business man was engaged in organizing industry and in directing the civic policy, the wage-earner, united in an external unity by the processes of production, perforce aware of the impo- tence of the individual to modify the impersonal industrial system upon which he depended for a livelihood, was experimenting with the f unctiona l, value of various types of^ associated activity. "The very fact that, in modern society, the individual thus necessarily loses control over his own life, makes him desire to regain collectively what has become individually impossible." ^'"' Professor Veblen's interesting hypothesis^"^ that the relation of the workingman to the machine determines his mental attitude and shapes his thinking in trains of causal sequence, making him susceptible to Socialist propa- ganda, has, accordingly, little more than the value of a metaphor. It is indeed true that the introduction of machinery has destroyed the old personal foundation of the social and industrial order and recon- structed society and mdustry on an impersonal basis, and that the ramifications of system have resulted in the standardization of the ends and means of social existence. But the change in the mental attitude of the workingman is not so much the outcome of his monotonous supervision of or by the machine process as the uncer- tainty and insecurity of his existence. The "wrench" that comes in the feeling and thinking of a man who is out of a "job," whose wages have been "cut," who does not know where his next dinner is coming from, or how the wife and the children are to fare, is abun- dant explanation for his questioning of the validity of the existing order of things. The increase of wages which the workingman loowebb, Industrial Democracy. 1902, p. 8S0. ''■"^The Theory of Business Enterprise, 1904, pp. 310 ff. l64 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION gains through his trade union, the harmony of socialist philosophy with the cruder thinking and desires of the depressed worker are sufficient reason for his allegiance to a militant organization and his adhesion to a revolutionary philosophy of life. Living his life in the world of urban contacts and stimuli, it is but natural that he should be more susceptible to new ideas than the farm laborer ; liable at any moment to the derangements that come! with the slightest dis- turbances of the impersonal industrial mechanism of which his activities form a part, it is but human that the manual laborer seeks in combination the strength that comes from numbers and co- operation. The first efiforts of the workman were along the course of direct action. The mental attitude of the laborer is to be explained accord- ing to the principles of mob psychology. In the remorseless, im- personal fight waged by the machine against human flesh and blood, the wage-earner found himself defeated, and enraged, struck blindly at the instruments of his downfall. The Luddite riots in 1812 and 1816, the Lancashire outbursts of 1826 indicate the intensity of the indignation which vented its force upon the machine: so blinded were the weaver and the artisan by the sensational aspect of the transition that they struck recklessly at the visual manifestation of the change which had taken away their occupation and livelihood. But in the very nature of the case the predominance of the emotional and sensational over the reflective and ideational in the content of consciousness signified that these aggregations could be only tran- sient. Resentment, anger, and prejudice may be sufficient basis for a mob, but a definite principle and a practical program are needed to furnish an organizing element for the development of a stable and efficient labor organization. Chartism, in fact, was a step in the right direction. The aim here was defiiiite enough, but the methods were revolutionary and the leadership was visionary. The agitation which centered around the demand for the People's Charter, with its mammoth demonstration and its passionate appeals to class hatred,^"' was due in large measure to the hypnotic effect which the French Revolution"' exercised over the leaders of the workingmen. In spite of the revolutionary character of the movement, and the i»2See lives of William Cobbett, Feargus O'Connor, and James "Bron- terre" O'Brien, in the Dictionary of National Biography. lo'Gibbins, op. cit.. p. 418. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 1 65 incompetence and arrogance^"* of its promoters, Chartism called the national attention to the prevalence of destitution and misery^"^ and promoted the development of class-consciousness among the rank and file of the workers. The failure of the movement^"* undoubt- edly contributed to divert the activities of workingmen from political agitation. With the failure of direct action and of political agitation, the influence of Robert Owen and of the middle class tended to turn the efiforts of the wage-earners to co-operation and organized self-help. While the aim of Chartism and of the impractical schemes of Owen had been to amass huge, incoherent aggregates of working people, the followers of the New Lanark prophet and philanthropist and the level-headed leaders of the labor movement turned their attention to the achievement of less lofty goals and to the formation of more closely knit societies. The co-operative movement for production and for consumption, and the unions organized by trades are the noteworthy objective results of this change of attitude. The attempt to transform the circumstances of the entire working class was abandoned as hopeless, and workingmen in groups concentrated their efforts upon the more modest and practical task of bettering their own condition, with but little consideration of the general lot of the great mass of labor. The co-operative movement afifords us most interesting evidence of this change of heart and mind. In establishing consumers' and producers' societies, the working class attempted to utilize the weapons of capitalism to its own advantage. The restriction of the full benefits of these societies to the members showed the essentially individualistic character of the organization. It is sufficient to state in passing that this co-operative movement, while f ailing^"^ in associ- ation for production, has been successful^"' in associations for con- sumption, both in retailing and in wholesaling. The organization of the trade union is to be distinguished from that of the guild system. The Webbs have marshaled evidence to i<'*Webb, History of Trade Unionism, p. 1S8. '""E.g., cf. Carlyle, Chartism. i06\Yebb, History of Trade Unionism, p. 160. ^"''Ibid., p. 321 ; Social England, VI, 427. losSymes, in Social England, VI, 426-27. l66 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION demonstrate that the trade union is neither a continuation of the craft guild^"" nor of the journeyman's club. It was rather an inno- vation, introduced into the industrial system of the eighteenth cen- tury to meet the new conditions^" which, even before the invention and introduction of machinery, made for the proletarianizing^*^ of the artisan and the dissolution of the surviving ties between master and men inherited from the guild organization. The guild"^ existed for the protection of the interests of the master, journeyman, apprentice, and even of the consumer ; the trade union, like Hobbes' "Leviathan," was instituted for the purpose of the self-preservation of the wage-earner. Each individual upon joining the union sur- renders his "naitural" right of competing with his fellows, and of making individual terms of employment with his employer. Thus it is that the trade union, despite its obvious use of personal and local relations, is organized, fundamentally, upon an impersonal basis. The psychic force that gives the labor union its vitality is the economic incentive, the most impersonal save the aesthetic of all human interests. The maintenance of the standard of living and the question of higher wages becomes an object to be achieved only by the subordination of the individual to the group. Collective bar- gaining denotes the standardization of remuneration and the rejec- tion, in some degree at least, of the principle of the apportionment of reward to the worth of individual service. While the member of the union has a vote in the referendum for a strike, his relinquish- ment of the ultimate control of his conduct to an organization often involves the surrender of his personal preferences. In mediaeval times, the control of life was in the hands of the guild master and his personality functioned in his work ; in modem times, the person- ality of the wage-earner does not function in production, and the control of his life in its economic aspect has passed into the keeping of an organization into which his personality is merged. There are three quite distinct stages in the growth of English trade unionism. These stages are marked off from each other by the three assumptions successively accepted by the unions, namely, "the Doctrine of Vested Interests, the Doctrine of Supply and Demand, and the Doctrine of a Living Wage." ^^* The doctrine of io9Webb, History of Trade Unionism, p. 13. ^^^Ibid., pp. 37-41. "»/6Jd., pp. 3-9. "2/6td., p. 17. ^i^Webb, Industrial Democracy, p. 562. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 167 a vested interest in a trade is only another name for the conservative attitude which distrusts and obstructs innovation and progress, and is best exhibited"* by the long and unsuccessful opposition of trade unionists to the introduction of machinery. The acceptance after 1840 of the dogmas of supply and demand marks the dominance of middle-class thinking and of economic theory over the minds of the working class. "Bentham, Ricardo and Grote were read only by a few; but the activity of such popular educationalists as Lord Brougham and Charles Knight propagated 'useful knowledge' to all the members of the Mechanics' Institutes and the readers of the Penny Magazine. The middle-class ideas of 'free enterprise' and 'unrestricted competition' which were thus diffused received a great impetus from the extraordinary propaganda of the Anti-Corn Law League, and the general progress of Free Trade. Feargus O'Connor and Bronterre O'Brien struggled in vain against the growing domi- ■ nance of Cobden and Bright as leaders of working-class opinion." ^^^ After the working class developed leaders of its own, the submis- sion to the middle-class ideas continued. In the sixties, "for the first time in the century, the working-class movement came under the direction, not of middle and upper-class sympathizers like Place, Owen, Roberts, O'Connor, or Buncombe, but of genuine workmen specially trained for the position. . . . They brought to the task, it is true, no consistent economic theory or political philosophy. They subscribed with equal satisfaction to the crude Collectivism of the 'International,' and the dogmatic industrial individualism of the English Radicals. . . . They accepted, with perfect good faith, the economic Individualism of their middle-class opponents, and claimed only that freedom to combine which the more enlightened members of that class were willing to concede to them. . . . Their understanding of the middle-class point of view, and their appreciation of the practical difficulties of the situation saved them from being mere demagogues." ^^^ The adherence of the labor leaders to middle-class' views is doubtless to be explained in part by one weapon which the doctrine of laissez-faire furnished. "What they demanded was perfect freedom for a workman to substitute collective for individual bargaining, if he imagined such a course to "*/6ii., p. 562. 116-Webb, History of Trade Unionism, p. 161. "»/&ii., pp. 221-22. l68 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION be for his own advantage." ^" The acceptance of the dogmas of supply and demand signified the acquiescence of the practical leaders of the labor movement in the only feasible method of realizing class interests tolerated by public opinion at that time. The right of political action was surrendered, the recognition by the public of the worker to a minimum standard of existence was not urged, and labor thus secured the privilege of voluntary association and collective bargaining. "■ The third stage in the history of labor unionism, characterized by the dominance of the theory of a fair wage, marks the transition from the old to the new unionism, or the repudiation of the dogmas of classical economy and the formulation of a collective philosophy of action. The first successes of the attempts to widen the scope of union membership and of organized action came in the victory of the London match girls in their strike of 1888, and in the next year in the triumphant outcome of the great dock strike, successes^^' due to the decisive intervention of public opinion. These striking contra- dictions of the principles of political economy tended to turn the attention of the younger element in the unions to the advantage to be derived from the conscious deliberative action of the social body, if the spontaneous aid of public opinion could accomplish so much. The new leaders,"' under the influence of collectivistic views, de- nounced the individualist Liberalism of the old leaders, and con- verted the rank and file to an acceptance of the policy of state inter- ference for the welfare of the working class. Political action now became the practical method of promoting industrial betterment and a living wage was set up as the goal of attainment. Mann and Bums, forsaking the Social Democratic Federation, employed their best efforts to carry out a practical collectivistic program.*"" The influence of the Labor group in Parliament and the growth of municipal ownership and control in British cities was largely due to this change of mental attitude from laissez-faire to collectivism on the part not only of the working class but also of public opinion. The necessary intervention of the government in the great railroad and coal strikes proved the correctness of the insight and the logic of the contenders for the inseparable character of the industrial and the political situation; the far-reaching social reform legislation of "'Webb, History of Trade Unionism, pp. 278-79. "»/6id., pp. 394-95. i"/6i(f., pp. 390-91. "o/fcirf., pp. 398-99. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 169 the Liberal party since 1905 demonstrated the advantage of the active participation of the workingman in political life. By the im- personal means of the ballot, the worker is recovering his lost con- trol over the conditions of life. The Socialist movement of the nineteenth century in England, like the labor movement, was the outgrowth of a phase of the work- ing-class situation. But while labor unions for two score years before 1885 accepted the orthodox economic theories, socialism set its face against classical economics and finally evolved, through the genius of Marx, the so-called "scientific" interpretation of the social and industrial order. To see in society, reorganized industrially by voluntary association, the means for bringing to pass the social millennium was the vision of Owen and the solution of John Stuart Mill. To perceive in the state, as Hegel perceived, the great agent for human advancement, to forecast workingman control of the government, was the mission of Marx. The government, the "bugaboo" of the British manufacturer and the middle-class econo- mist, was to become the Pillar of Fire by night to the oppressed and exploited workingman. Thus, while labor unionism assumes the existing order of things. Socialism would overturn it ; while unions are content with an opportunist program, the followers of Owen and Marx have a comprehensive philosophy of life and action. The circles of participation in the two movements differed radically. The trade unions existed for the sake of the interests of skilled labor; the Socialist in his enthusiasm was "white-hot" for the wel- fare of the whole working class. In a certain sense. Socialism was the nucleus, the intensest phase of the social movement of the nineteenth century. Unlike the prin- ciples of trade unionism which developed within the working class in the fierce struggle for existence, the theoretical formulation of Socialism came from the intellectual wing of the middle class. Socialism had, in consequence, a more catholic appeal than labor unionism. It called attention to economic and social maladjust- ments ; it furnished a general interpretation and a universal specific for all the social ills. So wide, indeed, was the awakening interest in collectivism, so attractive to many men of diverse interests in widely different classes, that the march of Socialism and collectivism in England was by no solid phalanx, but by detached, scattered and often hostile bands. 170 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION Utopian Socialism in England centers about the life and program of Robert Owen, the middle-class philanthropist of New Lanark. Owen "despised and rejected political action, and strove to form a new voluntary organization which should supersede, almost instan- taneously and in some unexplained way, the whole industrial, politi- cal and social administration of the country." "'^ That the reorgan- ization of industry on the basis of voluntary association did not materialize in England in the thirties and in the forties is not, neces- sarily, conclusive evidence against its future applicability. The failure of the various communistic communities is to be attributed as much to the visionary and sentimental type of mind of the middle- class enthusiasts who have comprised the bulk of the membership as to the underlying idea. We noted^^^ the success of voluntary co- operation in the consumers' association. This is the type of Socialist program to which Mill'''' looked for future reform. Syndicalism in its constructive phase sets up the same ideal of industrial organiza- tion on a voluntary basis, to be realized, however, through aggressive and revolutionary methods. So-called "scientific" Socialism centers in England about the work of Marx in that country and the organization and activities of the Social Democratic Federation. As early as 1864 the Inter- national Association of Working Men, established in London under the auspices of Marx, declared that " 'the subjection of the man of labor to the man of capital lies at the bottom of all servitude, all social misery, and all political dependence.' " '''* "In 1881 the S. D. F. [Social Democratic Federation] was established by H. M. Hyndman. The federation was a purely Socialist party, modeled on those already existing on the Continent and filled with the Marxian spirit. It made no concessions to the 'inconsistent oppor- tunism' of the English workers, and for that reason had no influence i"Webb, History of Trade Unionism, p. 404. ^"^Supra., p. 165. i2s"Xhe form of association, however, which, if mankind continues to improve, must be expected in the end to predominate is ... . the asso- ciation of the laborers themselves on terms of equality, collectively owning the capital with which they carry on their operations and working under managers elected and removable by themselves." — Mill, Principles of Political Economy, 1871, II, 352. '2*Webb, History of Trade Unionism, p. 217, note. THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 171 whatever on the bulk of the English proletariat." ^"^ We cannot but admire the steadfastness with which these proud possessors of the mantle of Marx held to their full theoretical heritage and refused to trim their principles for immediate political success. Two other definite phases of Socialism in England should receive mention. The Christian Socialist movement of the forties and fifties under the leadership of Kingsley, Hughes, and Maurice, exhibits an attempt of men to find the basis oi social betterment in the sense of brotherhood as set forth in the social teachings of Jesus. This movement emphasized the role of the feelings in the solution of the social problem; an organization a generation later laid stress upon the understanding. The Fabian Society, organized in 1883 by an intellectual wing of the middle class, made the attempt both to condition social action upon the scientific study of the social situa- tion and to extend the propaganda of constitutional collectivism among the working class.^^' This mention of the different varieties of Socialism indicates that the theory of collectivism is not confined to any organization, but overflows all classification. Socialism, as the collectivistic leaven, in all its different phases, has permeated English life. The political aims of labor unions have taken the collectivistic cast. The rank and file of the Liberal party is being converted to a social policy hard to be reconciled with the old individualistic dogmas still dear to many party leaders. In a practical way England has gone far toward state Socialism. Howe's book. The British City, indicates the rapid growth of municipal ownership in cities — an advance accelerated by the participation of workingmen in politics. The great social reforms to the credit of the present Liberal government afford an index to the rapidity of the conversion of this party of individualism to collectivistic pro- grams and policies. The impersonal character of the Socialist movement is as evident as that of the labor union. The interests of all the members of society are to be conserved without regard to class or adventitious circumstances. The special economic privileges that private prop- erty presents for the personal control of the destinies of other men i25Sombart, Socialism and the Social Movement, 1909 (Epstein's trans.), p. 248. ^^^Webb, History of Trade Unionism, p. 400, note. 172 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCUL EVOLUTION are to be abolished. The ownership of all the instruments of pro- duction is to be vested in the state, the impersonal representative of all of us. Above all else, the Socialist philosophy of life tends to turn the attention of the individual from the personal to the imper- sonal explanation of the causes of social misery. According to the new interpretation, not human nature, but the social order is respon- sible for human waSte and wreckage ; not the "boss," but the "soul- less" corporation is to blame; not the capitalist, philanthropist that he often is, but the system is at fault. Thus the circle of impersonalization is complete. Capitalism introduced an impersonal economic order with impersonal ramifica- tions which extend throughout the entire social order. Labor unions have built up an impersonal organization to measure strength with capitalism in the industrial arena. The Social Movement, and espe- ' cially social science as its highest rational integration, has implanted in the minds of men an objective and detached method of analyzing and interpreting social facts. In the conclusion of this study of the historical development of the English people from the standpoint of socialization, a resume of the generalizations discovered may serve as an introduction to the next step in the thesis. 1. Socialization is the participation of wider circles of men in the widening field of social life. Through such a process a con- glomeration of petty "democratic" village communities of the type of the German "mark," with its one or two hundred inhabitants, has evolved into the British "democracy" with its forty millions of people. 2. The formation of organized mental attitudes comes about through the integration of opinion and sentiment through the inter- mental activity of the members of the group. This point of view is at variance with an interpretation of human experience as the reflex of environmental changes. The significant difference between ani- mal and human response to stimuli is the intervention in the case of man of the idea, into which may be packed the experience of the race. Reconstructions of attitudes and conversions of character are, therefore, not the immediate outcome of environmental changes. They are mediated by the totality of social influences. For example, the experience of the father, the shrewd love of the mother, mold attitudes conformable with the group situation. We saw that THE IMPERSONAL STAGE OF SOCIALIZATION 1 73 Lollardistn, Puritanism, and Methodism, were coincident with eco- ' nomic crises and drilled economically valuable habits into groups of / individuals struggling for economic status. 3. The development in different groups of the consciousness of concrete values and the struggle for their realization has molded the life of the English people in a distinctive way. The difference in the English and the Russian or the Spanish peoples is not to be ex- plained completely in terms of environment and of ethnic variety. The functional explanation is in terms of the development of mental attitudes in the interaction between the group and the environment. The Spaniard and the Russian are at a loss to appreciate the moral i point of view of the Englishman because Spain and Russia had no/ Reformation and no Puritan movement. They cannot understand/ the Englishman's insistence on political and personal freedom and his method of orderly constitutional change, because their countries had no Magna Charta with the succeeding seven centuries of politi- cal development. They can scarcely comprehend the individualistic point of view of the Englishman, since these countries have yet to experience the Industrial Revolution. .It is evide nt that social valu- at ions d etermine the evolution of national life_and character. 4. The actual process of sociafiration in England has passed through three stages in which the mental organization was based successively on kinship, on personal, and on impersonal ties. The transition from the hamlet and the tribal groupings, originating in the natural family ties, to the mediaeval village and town with its feudal system held together by the cement of personal relations, to the city and the capitalistic organization with its impersonal clamps and rivets, has involved more than a change from scratching the ground with a digging-stick to the operations of the modern steam gang-plow, or from a tool technique to a machine age. Parallel with this external change and in organic relation of cause and effect with it, there have occurred changes in mental attitudes and shifts in human values. Yet these changes have been grouped about these three types of attitude, which have functioned as the organizing principles in the succeeding types of social organization required for the progressive control over nature. The ability of the person to secure larger control over life-conditions, first, by means of kin ties, then by personal relations, and finally, through impersonal relations, reveals the same process from the individual standpoint. 174 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION Finally, the question may be raised whether the impersonal stage of socialization is the final or highest goal of the process. The study of social development in England in the last fifty years sug- gests that a new stage, which we may call the social, is being attained. We perceived that the great social movement of the nineteenth cen- tury was surcharged with the emotional force of this trend, that the social sciences reveal the highest rational expression of this mental change, and that the march of State Socialism in England exempli- fies the objectification of the new attitude in concrete, practical action. The social tendencies are multiplying which denote that the impersonal way of looking at things will become permeated by the social outlook and spirit ; that the perfected outward co-operation of our present industrial order will become motivated by a perfected inner co-operation ; that out of the moral ferment and psychic seeth- ing of the thronging thousands in our cities, united in spite of them- selves by the closest and most complex external interdependences, will be evolved a group-consciousness necessary for the solution of our problems and for the control of conditions in the common inter- , est. Such a change in the mental and social organization presupposes sand requires a change in the habits of mind of the individual. The Irequisite transformation can occur only through the socialization of ithe individual by means of his freest personal participation in the (community of thinking, feeling, and action of the group. The Aprocess of perfecting the social order makes possible and requires the all-round development of personality. PART III THE ROLE OF SOCIALIZATION IN PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT CHAPTER XI PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT Social valuation, social heredity, social organization, social stimuli, are all involved in scientific discovery and mechanical inven- tion : this argument constituted our proof for the function of social- ization in material progress. The history of the English people is exhibited as a process involving the participation of wider groups in the developing sentiment, knowledge, and activity of a nation: this survey demonstrated that socialization plays an essential role in social evolution. Two parts of the thesis have now been exhibited, and we therefore come to the consideration of the third proposition, namely, that the socialization of the individual, in the sense of the all-round participation of the person in the knowledge, in the feeling, and in the activity of the group, is necessary for the fullest personal development and for social progress. In this statement of the final step in our thesis, we have taken for granted two characteristics of socialization, which, while com- monplaces in our thinking, should nevertheless be analyzed to avoid the possibility of later misunderstanding. The first point, tacitly assumed in our definition, is the recognized fact that socialization is fundamentally a mental process, and progressively calls into play the higher psychic processes. Societies exist below the human stage, but how different is the character of animal socialization ! The bees and the ants -in their social organization exhibit a marvelous co- adaptation of individuals, but the co-ordination here is mechanical and instinctive, imbedded in the physiological makeup of the organ- ism. In primitive and savage society we appreciate the immense ad- vance from the instinctively fixed conduct of the animal to the socially imposed ways of action. The taboos and the "mores" of the group, illogical, arbitrary, often injurious, exercised a social con- trol in which the emotional element was predominant. In modern society a higher type of socialization is evolving, which will permit a natural and co-ordinated development of the instinctive tendencies under the discipline of reason, good taste, and social feeling. Outer, 177 178 THE JUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION j coercive control is being superseded by the spontaneity of inner direc- ' tion. An awareness by th€ head and by the heart of the interdepend- ence of the interests of the person and the group makes possible a socialization organized to promote aims and ends rationally defined, a socialization at the same time buttressed by a solid masonry of social sentiment. Before we turn to the consideration of the second point, it is appropriate to emphasize the importance of the role of mental devel- opment in socialization. The fundamental fact in the life of the individual is its mental nature. This is also true of society. The unity that holds the group together, whether derived from past expe- rience, present activity, or future purpose, is psychic. The changes which are taking place in society, no matter how material or physical their origin, become socially important when they are registered in the formation of individual and group feeling and thought. Thus a thunderstorm, which is of slight social significance to a modem community, will undoubtedly be of prime social import to a savage tribe. All qualitative social changes are, at bottom, transformations of mental attitude. The change in the point of view on the part of Mr. Gary and Mr. Carnegie in the last twenty years in regard to government regulation of industry is a striking example of a process of social mental interaction in which the American people are par- ticipating. The changing attitude of the North and South upon the negro situation is an element of difficulty or of help in the solution of the problem. These two illustrations must suffice to represent the multitude of facts which might be presented to indicate that, from first to last, the mental interrelations of persons constitute the social structure and determine social function. The second point, tacitly assumed in our definition and implicit in the preceding chapters, is that socialization has become the central factor in evolution. Animalization, cephalization, socialization, are the three important stages in evolution, in the animal, in the primeval human, and in the social-human situations. Animalization begins with the first organisms capable of free movement and reaches its highest point of development in the highest complexity of movements which can constitute a co-ordination, an end not achieved until cephalization has reached a high stage. Cephalization begins with the tendency toward centralization in the nervous system. It has apparently ended with the human mind as we know it today, appar- PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT 179 ently fixed as to its faculties. Yet the potentialities of the human mind find their development in a situation only possible by the higher stages of socialization. Socialization begins at the point where the evolution of the mental interrelations of the persons in the group became of more importance to progress than the congenital physio- logical and neural development of the individual. To indicate the role of socialization in human progress, it is sufficient here to call attention to the dependence of civilization upon the evolution of com- munication, the external apparatus of socialization, in the perfection of the arts of language and writing, and in the mechanical develop- ment of transportation and transmission as exemplified in the rail- road, the cable, and the telegraph. With this explanation of the mental basis of socialization and of the dependence of progress upon socialization, we turn to a consider- ation of the person in his social relations. The individual, or rather the person, stands as the ultimate concrete unit of society. Physi- cally, he is a biological unit. His thoughts and desires constitute him a social unit, although the concrete embodiment of his ideas and attitudes is only to be found in groups and in social intercourse. Accordingly, an analysis of the mode of willing, feeling, and thinking of this human organism is all-important, if we would proceed far- ther to discover the sources and the manner of his conduct in social relations. To the psychologist of the present day, the simplest description of mental life is in terms of stimulus and response, a concrete objec- tive account of the behavior of an organism. With this insistence upon the unity of conscious activity, the psychologists recognize that behavior may be studied from three aspects. We may stress either the intellectual element, the feeling element, or the volitional element in the act. Such an analysis has been given us by the func- tional psychologists. What is the function of the cognitive aspect of mental activity? In consciousness on the ideational side, mem- ory, imagination, and reasoning, are "simply half-way houses be- tween stimuli and reactions, which serve to permit the summoning of just those movements which the present situation demands, when interpreted in the light of the individual's past experience." ^ The nature and the extent of information possessed by the person are certainly important factors in the socialization of the individual. lAngell, Psychology, 1908, p. 301. l8o THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION In distinction from the detached nature of ideational activity in which the response is delayed for the more efficient organization of the reaction, the part played by the affective element is its presenta- tion of an immediate attitude of response to the situation in question. The function of affective consciousness is to Angell "to incite, at once, appropriate motor reactions." ^ The "mores" on their emo- tional side present the highest sanction for conduct conceived by the group to promote the social welfare. Neglecting for purposes of analysis the knowledge-bringing and attitudinal part of conscious- ness, we may direct our attention exclusively to activity. "The development of volition is neither more nor less than a process of reducing our impulses to order, and ... a mature character is simply one in which the impulses are thus subordinated to some systema- tized principles." ^ The roots of our impulses are fixed in the deep soil of heredity, but the influences which determine their growth and organization are found almost entirely in the social environment. Any study of the individual apart from his social relations is partiaL These three functional aspects of mind, the cognitive, the affective, and the volitional, which enter into the organization of the self, are at the same time factors in social organization. The com- parison between the unity of personality and the social unity is close and illuminating. What is the self? Introspectively, the self appears as feelings of approval or disapproval, definite attitudes toward the environment. Objectively, the self is activity. Knowl- edge, even meaning per se, appears not so much a part of self, as an instrument by which not only the self but other selves may secure ends. Let us now observe fJie homologies in society. What is a group, the American people, for example? Considered passively, the American people is a unified organization of attitudes, senti- ments, and impulses, crystallized about the family, the community, the nation; hearty prejudices against idleness, the expert. Wall Street ; strong sanctions* for competition, democracy, and monogamy. While we may thus define the American people from the standpoint of feeling, the social unity can no more be expressed in terms of the cognitive phase of activity than can the self. Personality is not 20/>. cit., p. 320. Hbid., p. 430. *Cf. Sumner, "Mores of the Present and the Future," in the Yale Review, XVIII (1909), 235. PERSONAL DEVELOPMENT l8l / knowledge, for knowledge is universal. The American people can- not be defined in terms of the scientific advance of the twentieth century nor yet in the technical skill of its citizens, for the achieve- ment and the tools of the people do not constitute the people. The definition from the dynamic point of view is more satisfactory. The American people, once an agricultural aristocracy bent on self- direction, then a pioneer people with national aims struggling against the movement for disunion for the purpose of perpetuating an inhu- mane slave system, is now an industrial nation, engaged in solving the pressing questions of achieving social justice and political and industrial democracy. Only statically can we define a nation even in terms of attitudes, for these feelings are in a state of flux and may change overnight. In any functional sense, national and social unity finds its completest expression in the associated activity. The comparison may be carried a step forward. The social psychologist has made clear the process by which the self, the social self, is developed in interaction with the growth of other selves, so that the attitudes, the knowledge, and the activity of the person are determined, or at least controlled, by the influences emanating from other selves. This process of socialization has had even a wider role in society. Our fund of verified knowledge is the product of the co-operation of individuals working together under controlled con- ditions, despite the limitations of time and space. Our attitudes toward life are largely due to the integration of feeling and of opinion that is always organized out of the individual reactions of the members of a group, face to face with a common environment.^ We have all, upon entering a new group, become aware of an organ- ized sentiment and opinion, and have had the sense of loss of con- trol until we have become oriented with reference to the direc- tions in our new social world. Our activities, also, with every revolution of the earth about the sun, are becoming more and more an interdependent and correlated whole, controlled and impelled by a union of social knowledge and social sentiment, by which the person consciously co-ordinates his own aims with those of others , in the promotion of social ends. With this preliminary survey of the general function of the cognitive, the affective, and the volitional elements in socialization, we pass to a more detailed study of the part played by each aspect of mental activity in the socialization of the person. CHAPTER XII THE COGNITIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION By the cognitive aspect in socialization is meant not only the creation and modification of group and personal opinion, but also the use and improvement of social and individual technique, a func- tion of the mental interaction of the members of the group. The fund of knowledge of the group, its proverbs, its creed, and its theory ; the technical equipment of the group, its tools, its weapons, its medical remedies, and its types of skill; its approved ways of doing things, its standards, and its ideals are all social develop- ments in the knowledge phase of life. Before entering into an analysis of the function of intellectual development in the social- ization of the person, we shall consider the role that socialization in the noetic phase has played in human experience and how far this evolution in the intellectual side of life multiplies the social spirit, or facilitates and rationalizes its expression. The cognitive aspect of consciousness in its growth, not only (a) is closely dependent upon socialization, but (b) has played a role of increasing importance in promoting the socializing process. The development of the art of language, so obviously at once effect and cause of social interrelations, made possible^ abstraction and the evolution of the higher forms of reasoning out of the germ present in perception. The invention oi writing and of the print- ing-press, feasible only because" of the existence of a leisure class in a stable social order, facilitated the communication between the minds of every age, thereby inestimably promoting the accumula- tion, criticism, and the diffusion of knowledge. Subtract from knowledge what communication has given us, and what little would be original! And of that little, what fraction would remain ours were we to take away what communication has made possible for us to acquire ? The effective play and scope of cognition depends in its origin on the presence of simple social relations, but in its development ^Wundt, Outlines of Psychology (Judd's trans., 1907), p. 342. "Supra, p. 124. 182 THE COGNITIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 1 83 upon the higher organization of human association. From the time that consciousness first came into play in forwarding social progress, the purposive control of activity, both of and by the individual and the group, has become a factor of ever-increasing importance. The earliest family groups, and so perhaps even primeval society itself, were formed with a minimum of purposive control. But the organ- izing of the hunting party, or of the war-band, was distinctively purposive in contrast with the instinctive character of aggregation in the herd and the pack of the animal stage. In recorded history, the process is patent. When a Caesar reorganizes the government of a world, or a group of barons wrest Magna Charta from a law- less king, or a Constitutional Convention frames the fundamental code for a nation, the purposive and deliberative control of political relations stands out in clear relief. Nor is the state the sole institu- tion whose forms are shaped by conscious control. We do not always perceive that our legal system is an arrangement which em- bodies the experience of generations of men consciously engaged in regulating the actions of persons and in securing the civil rights of the individual. The amount of conscious thought and study that has gone into determining the form and content of our school sys- tem is often underestimated by the critics of our present educational methods. A survey of the evolution of industry will make evident the influence of men of initiative and ideas, who individually and in association have modified economic organization. In every in- stitutionalized portion of life purposive and rational control is evident. While the presence of the rational element in activity does not necessarily imply socialized activity, socialization would be abortive without the rationalizing function of the cognitive element. The conscious formation of ends, the appreciation of the relations of cause and effect, the consciousness of meaning in life, all depend upon the evolution of cognition. Without this development social- ization would be little more than the innately determined expres- sion of the sexual, paternal, and gregarious instincts. The slow- ness of the march of social progress in the past has been largely due to the dominance of the affective nature of man over his ra- tional nature. For example, the emotion of pity is satisfied by an act which will relieve suffering, while an outraged sense of justice, if it cannot find immediate expression upon the perpetrator of the 1 84 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION wrong, will call into play the rational element in the eflFort to dis- cover causes. Without the presence of the rational element in human nature, philanthropy would be the extent of social reform. This introduction is sufficient to indicate the function and char- acter of the cognitive element in socialization in the past. What does socialization require in the intellectual development of the person at the present time ? From the' standpoint of the cognitive element in experience, socialization means at least three rather well- defined aims: (1) The socializing of the fund of verified knowl- edge by its diffusion throughout the members of the group is indis- pensable to social progress. (2) The participation of the person in the common store of knowledge is the first step toward efficient and democratic participation in the politics and the industry of the twentieth century. (3) Participation by the person and by the group in the widest stretches of human experience is necessary for the sense of mastery over activity and for the completes! control of life. Without any preliminary explanation these propositions will be considered in order. 1. In the theoretical sense, socialization, from the standpoint of intellectual development, has two objectives. First of all, it calls for the personal appropriation of the accumulated knowledge of the ages. Then, in the second place, it requires the participation of the individual in the constructive thinking and action of the twentieth century. These two aspects of the intellectual side of socialization may be named, respectively, its static and its dynamic characteristics. We shall consider (o) the static, and (b) the dynamic aspects of the theoretical side of the intellectual social- izing process. a) To Lester F. Ward is due the credit for em,phasizing the role of the diffusion of knowledge as characteristic of socializa- tion. His entire sociological system is built up about this concep- tion. Social progress, he asserts,* is due to the increment of knowl- edge. Human advance is conditioned* by the rate of the increase in the store of scientific facts. At the present time, the advance ^"Civilization has been brought about through human achievement, and human achievement consists almost entirely in knowledge." — Applied Sociol- ogy, p. 106. *Ibid., pp. 82-83. THE COGNITIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 185 in knowledge comes only from the favored few, because* science is a closed door to all but a fraction of the earth's population. In the degree, therefore, in which scientific principles become dif- fused, would social progress and improvement be accelerated. His book Applied Sociology is an argument for the theory of latent genius, and for the proposition that the radius of the diffusion of knowledge conditions achievement and social progress. No student of Ward can gainsay the generalization that the dissemination and creation of scientific knowledge constitutes, if not the dynamic, at any rate the directive agent in social progress. Ward, as we see,* practically limits socialization to the diffu- sion of verifiable information. The value of the recognition of the important socializing function of the diffusion of knowledge cannot be overestimated. Our appreciation of its role, neverthe- less, has outrun our success in the practical application of the prin- ciple. Certainly we must admit that in the last generation there has been a tremendous advance both in the quantity and in the quality of scientific knowledge available to the people and an in- crease in the number of persons who have taken advantage of the opportunity presented. University extension, chautauquas, lyceum courses, workingmen's educational clubs, the daily and Sunday newspapers, the magazines, the mechanical applications of scien- tific advance, and other agencies as well, have united to promote the spread of knowledge throughout society. But the other side of the picture is disheartening. Society today illustrates only too well the truth in Pope's line, "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing." The mania for patent medicines, fasting fads, the fanati- cism of anti-vaccinationists and anti-vivisectionists, the Christian Science craze, the delusion of Dowieism, our perennial "gold-brick" schemes, lynch-law, jingoism, the palaver and platitudes of the poli- tician, the devices of the demagogue: all these are only a few of the illustrations which clearly indicate the serious defects in our machinery for the diffusion of knowledge. It is not likely that too great emphasis can be laid upon the imperative of socializing knowledge. "Ibid., pp. 132, 106-7. *"In my system, education means the 'universal distribution of extant knowledge.' It makes complete abstraction of all questions of discipline, culture, and research, and takes account solely of information." — Ibid., p. 299. 1 86 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION ■The foregoing indictment reduces, in the last analysis, to the point that a tremendous gap exists between the specialist and the mass of people. Certainly this charge is not to be denied in toto. The accusation is all the more serious when it is pointed out that this chasm is not only one of intellectual aloofness; on the one hand, and inability to understand on the other, but, in addition,^ a certain contempt for the people on the part of the expert and a corresponding attitude, on the part of the mass, of distrust in regard to the disinterestedness of the specialist. So far, then, as the separation is one of sympathy, the difficulty lies in the affec- tive rather than in the cognitive phase of socialization. So far, however, as the question is one of intellectual division, or so far as this results in an affective line of demarkation, it will be con- sidered here. First of all, we must recognize the fact that the distinction is only relative,* that the specialist in one department of activity is a part of the undiiferentiated mass in regard to the other activities. At the same time it is true that as specialization increases, the problem of co-ordination also increases. Minute spe- cialization must have as its corrective a comprehensive view of the entire state of knowledge. To a large extent, the present situation contains within it the tendencies toward reform. With the advance of science in every phase of activity, a universally accepted standard of judgment is being evolved. The scientific method, common to men of the most diverse intei-ests, is becoming one of the strongest unifying forces in society. Not only does the expert in one subject, therefore, have confidence in the specialist in another subject, but he can demand that the other submit to his examination not merely his conclu- sion, but his methods and his experiments. This general trend throughout society toward an appreciation of the value and the authority of science is plainly observable. > The abortive tariff board was an indication of a desire for tariff revision by impartial ex- perts. The immediate and unanimous acceptance by the public of the decision of the findings of the special committee of the Uni- versity of Copenhagen in the Cook-Peary controversy over the discovery of the North Pole is a case in point. With the growth of popular interest and intelligence in all aspects of human experi- 'Croly, The Promise of American Life, 1909, p. 138. 'Vincent, in unpublished manuscript. THE COGNITIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 187 ence, the expert is under social obligation to admit the public to his confidence and thus to promote the mental interplay which is the fundamental characteristic of socialization. One reason for the success of the patent medicine panderer was, and still is, the unwill- ingness of the medical profession to make public the secrets of its "mystery." Then, too, in our specialization, we should not become so highly specialized as to ignore the unity and consequent inter- relation of all experience. The narrowness and bigotry of the physicians a generation ago made possible Christian Science, i. e., mental healing without rather than within the profession. The conservatism of the Church of England was responsible for the fact that the moral enthusiasm of the Wesleyan movement was diverted into a separate organization. The progress of science and reform is delayed because of the want of efficient co-opera- tion and common understanding. Thus a sociologist may be handi- capped by a defective comprehension of the latest developments in biology, or a biologist misled by his ignorance of the significance of the social life of men. b) The static side of socialization, the diffusion of knowledge, furnishes the basis for its dynamic aspect, the increase of knowl- edge. But the increase of knowledge is itself a process of social- ization. In the first place, from the psychological and functional standpoints, there is no radical distinction between the dissemina- tion or the appropriation and the creation of knowledge. Mentally, my appreciation of a truth you present may be as original an ex- perience to me as was your original act of discovery. Psycholo- gists tell us that the aesthetic appreciation of the work of art is psychically the same as the moment of artistic creation. So what from the objective standpoint may appear merely the dissemina- tion and passive absorption of knowledge may from the subjec- tive aspect be active participation in, if not actual creation of, knowledge. As all our concepts are the assimilations of percepts to past experience, so all our reactions contain personal and orig- inal elements. This, then, is the philosophy of "creative evolution" as opposed to the theory of the "treadmill of imitation." In the second place, we cannot admit the limitation which Ward placed on the meaning of socialization. Our contention is that the socializing process includes the entire social process, and that in- ter-mental stimulation and response in its cognitive, emotional, and 1 88 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION volitional elements condition and determine all social life. Even were we to limit the meaning of the term to the intellectual aspect of behavior, our definition would extend the frontiers of social- ization far beyond the boundaries established by Ward. For while he saw in socialization the widest possible extension of participa- tion in knowledge, we perceive, as he only half perceived, that dis- covery and invention are part and parcel of the same process of socialization. Ward's thesis was that the diffusion of scientific knowledge would multiply further scientific discovery. Our propo- sition is that the socialization of knowledge is but one aspect of the inclusive socializing process, that the socializing process, on the cognitive side, is no less than the submission of all social inter- relationships to the functional standard for measurement. In the third place, social invention and social reform are pecu- liarly a function of socialization. It is a well-known fact of social ''psychology that a group of persons may often arrive at a conclu- sion, which, while not the original idea of any one person, is not only superior to the original thought of any of them, but is also ^in a real sense the product of all the persons in the group taken IS a whole.' A similar process on a larger scale is taking place in Society in the solution of every social problem. Just as at bottom our social problems rise and are felt in the common everyday ex- perience of every one of us; just as our customs and institutions are the integrated states of mind of the members, living and dead, of our group ; so the solutions of our problems and the reconstruc- tion of our institutions and ways of thinking are a co-operative mental process in which all the members of the group necessarily participate. The fact that the great social problems, those wMch grow out of the situations of birth, of adolescence, of marriage, of play, of labor and occupation, of disease, accident, and death, are crises common to all members of the race, and the fact that these problems come to consciousness in the integrated feeling and thought of the members of the group suggest that the mental atti- tude of every person is a factor in the solution of the problem. ^"Public opinion need not represent .... the judgment acquiesced in by the lowest member of the group making the opinion, but it may well represent the matured opinion of leaders and specialists after these have reacted with their public." — Ellwood, Psychological Aspects of Sociology, 1912, p. 335. THE COGNITIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 189 More often than not, it is the more intimate experience rather than greater knowledge that provides the incentive for social prog- j ress. As John Morley expresses this idea, "In matters of social improvement the most common reason why one hits upon a point of progress and not another, is that the one happens to be more directly touched than the other by the unimproved practice." ^° Communication, then, as the social solvent, has these three as-^ pects : a co-operative process, implying a group ; the perfection of an idea in the process of its circulation among the persons in the/ group; and the acceptance of a criterion as a basis for agreement. Social philosophers have emphasized one or another of these ele- ments or functions of communication. Comte thought that the positive, i. e., scientific method, supplied the common basis for agreement in the discussion of social questions.^^ He overlooked the fact that, while the scientific method is sufficient for descrip- tion, it is inadequate for explanation and for telesis. Mill empha- sized^^ the value of discussion as the knowledge-perfecting process necessary for reform. Today we smile in a superior manner in reading Mill's argument for discussion and his optimistic expecta- tion of, its magical efficacy. We have gone, we think, a step far- ther. The twentieth century is to be the era of the expert and is to witness' the decline of amateur discussion and dilettante specu- lation. From one aspect this statement is true; from another, it is quite misleading. In so far as investigation and research will be substituted for the application of abstract theory or categorical imperatives in the solution of the problems of life, in so far as the scientific method and the functional standard will be accepted, we are right; but in so far as the co-operation of all persons in a given situation is necessary for the solution of the problems, there- in is Mill justified. There must, then, be the closest contact and freest interaction between the social student and society so that the person, self-directed but with full knowledge of the situation, may willingly and intelligently co-operate with his fellows in social progress. What, then, is the relation of social science, the highest integra- tion of knowledge, to the reconstruction and transformation of loMorley, On Compromise, (1874), p. 163. ^'^Positive Philosophy (Martineau's trans., 1875), II, 36-43. '^'^Essay on Liberty, 1885, pp. 95-96. igo THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION social life ? Comte believed that the study of social tendencies made possible the discovery of the trend of social evolution, which society by conscious effort could only accelerate." Spencer assigned a nega- tive role to social control. The study of social evolution, he thought, would demonstrate to the social thinker the folly of social inter- ference^* which only retarded and perverted the natural and benef- icent course of human progress. Ward endorsed the position of Comte and contended that the diffusion of verifiable information would aid society in accelerating^' social evolution. Small speaks for the trend of sociologists to the position that valuation as a social process has a qualitative effect upon the course of progress, and determines the direction of social progress.^^ Valuation, then, as a social process, as the directive and selec- tive activity in social progress, finds its highest integration in social science. Social science, as the rational expression of social life, tends to demand the submission of every social question to the func- tional standard for measurement. Knowledge of facts is a first step in reform. The taboo of the discussion of certain questions — sex-hygiene and sex-vice and abnormalities, the vital problems in the marriage relation, the historical development of the Bible, the functional basis of the rights of private property — ^introduces superficiality and hypocrisy into social thinking and retards the movements for rational, effective prevention of present-day evils and for advance to higher stages of human life. The nineteenth century has marked a radical change in the per- sonnel of the groups functioning in the process of social valuation. >3"Though modifications, from all causes, are greater in the case of political than of simpler phenomena, still they can never be more than mod- ifications .... There is no disturbing influence, exterior or human, which can ... . change in any way the natural laws of the develop- ment of humanity." — Comte, op. cit., II, 75. ^*Principles of Ethics, II, 215-60; cf. Willoughby, Nature of the State, 1896, p. 329. i="The real answer, then, to the question as to the purpose of sociology is : to accelerate social evolution." — ^Ward, Outlines of Sociology, 1897, p. 207. ^'"Men's experience is the evolution of human values."— Small, Meaning of Social Science, 1910, p. 193. "In a large view of the matter valuation is nothing less than the selective process in the mental-social life of man: all values are in some sense survival values and have a bearing on the onward tendency of things."— Cooley, "Valuation as a Social Process," in the Psychological Bulletin, IX (1912), 441. THE COGNITIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION I91 Up to this time, valuation, so far as it determined national life and I policy, was almost entirely a product of the masculine element of I the classes in society. The nineteenth century has witnessed the demand for participation in this process made by the masses and by woman. In the economic and the political fields the labor move- ment and the Socialist propaganda are the two chief expressions of this demand for recognition. This conflict of classes has put so tremendous a strain upon the social order that the elevation of the struggle from physical force to intelligent understanding and rational settlement has become necessary. The task has fallen upon the social sciences "how to intellectualize the present conflict of interests." " As significant for the change in the character of the process of social valuation as the class-conscious aspirations of the working class is the woman's movement of the past century. Our present social world is largely man-made.^' The peculiarly womanly char- acteristics have had outside the home but slight efifect upon the larger social organization. The double standard of morals, the cur- rent conception of feminine virtue,^* the punitive character of our system of social control, the limitation of the state to its military and police functions,^" are all expressions of the male mental atti- tude. The emancipation of woman, only begun, has indicated some- what the revolution to follow upon the participation of both sexes on an equal and reciprocal footing in social reconstruction and human advance. To the wQrkingman's demand for social justice | woman adds the plea that all relations of life and programs of ac- tion be measured, not by the standards of efficiency alone, but by j those of human nature as well. In the present situation the presS'O' ing problem in social valuation is the establishment of standards of social justice and the construction of practical programs of achievement. Social valuation has for its universal and ultimate end the appraisement and creation of human values in the process of personal and social development. Our contact with the immi- grant and the comparative study of social groups have enlight- ened us in regard to the unsubstantial foundation of many of our ^'Small, General Sociology, p. 390. "Cf. Gilman, The Man-made World, 1911. I'Thomas, Sex and Society, p. 233. ^oAddams, Newer Ideals of Peace, 1907, chap. ii. iga THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLTTTION cherished values, and impelled us to be more critical in the appraise- ment of their worth. The significance of the emergence of all classes of people and of womankind into participation in our thought-life is that here- after the conflict of classes and the relation of sexes will be ele- vated from the physical to the psychic plane of conduct and from arbitrary to functional standards of action. This transformation is at present in the lowest stage of development. In the contest of brute force the classes by virtue of the monopoly of a superior social technique^* effectively shut out the disinherited masses from the enjojrment of many of the highest goods of life. Now that physical coercion and the more intangible but also more efficient bonds of custom, superstition, and narrow mental horizon are slip- ping from the minds of the masses and of women, social order seems to be threatened with disintegration. The dominant factors in the present social changes appear to be sense-appeal, imitation, and suggestion. The rational directive force seems to exercise only a slight control. The entire process is largely in the social uncon- sciousness, or where socially conscious is without functional direc- tion. The relation of the social scientist to social life must, therefore, become increasingly more intimate. No clever story of Socrates concerning the golden, the silver, and the leaden natures of men''* can be imposed on our generation. The days of the Sophist are over. The service of the social scientist is to effect the highest integration of thought on social problems, to endeavor to appre- ciate the points of view of both sides of a question, and to secure a resolution of the difficulty that will preserve all the elements of value in the contention. Two points have been emphasized in the discussion of the func- tion of the intellectual aspect of socialization from the theoretical point of view. For the intellectualization of the social process each \i person is to participate in the accumulated store of knowledge, each I person is to function in the inter-mental thought-process involved in social reconstruction. 2. Socialization on the cognitive side, in the practical as well as in the theoretical sense, means preparation for efficient func- 2iWard, Applied Sociology, pp. 106-7. "T/t^ Dialogues of Plato (Jowett's trans., 1902), II, 240. THE COGNITIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 1 93 tioning in the social life. In a practical way, what means does society provide for fitting the individual for participation in our industrial, political, and social democracy? Apart from legislation the chief conscious agency of society for the socialization of the individual is the public schools. Our mod- ern educational system stands as the objective expression of the valuation placed by the people upon education. The public-school sj'Stem has proved itself to be a unifying, assimilating agency. Ac- cording to traditional standards of education, it must be appraised as relatively efficient. Judged from two elementary standards of twentieth-century socialization, the educational institutions of the country are found to be woefully ill adapted^* to life. The public schools fit their graduates to be neither efficient producers nor effec- tive citizens. Prominent among the "new demands in education" is the demand that "the main emphasis of schooling be placed on the social side, on preparing the boy and girl . . . for effec- tive living as a member of the community of which he finds him- self a constituent part." ^* The present movement for industrial and social education is a protest against the failure of the public school to adapt its func- tions to the needs and activities of industry and society. Leavitt in his book Examples of Industrial Education indicates the broad aims of the promoters of industrial education in this country: "In- dustrial education means the complete and appropriate education of industrial workers of whatever grade. ... It means a thorough revision of our school system with the purpose of fur- nishing for the working classes an education which bears somewhat the same relation to their prospective life work as does the college education to the future work of the professional and managerial classes. . . . Industrial education, therefore, provides par- ticipation in, rather than fancied preparation for, some activity. It means practice in real work for real people as an effective me- dium of education. It means, in the final analysis, the fitting of a particular boy for a particular job, and it is therefore strongly individualistic." ^' Nor do the advocates of industrial education ^^See Hart, "The Failure of the Country School in the Modern City," in the American Journal of Sociology, XVIII (1912), 92-114. 2*Munroe, New Demands in Education, 1912, Preface, p. vii. ^^Industrial Education, 1912, pp. 1-2. 194 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION desire to sacrifice anything of value in the present curriculum. "Our great contention is that vocational training be introduced into our school system as an essential part of its education — in no illiberal sense and with no intention of separating out a class of workingmen's children who are to receive trade training at the expense of academic training. . . . We are convinced that just as liberal a. training can be given in the vocational school as that given in the present academic school. Indeed, we feel that the voca- tional training will be more liberal if its full educational possibilities are worked out." ^^ Kerschensteiner, the leading German exponent of industrial education, states its purpose in terms of socialization. "Starting from the highest outward ethical good of a community, from the ideal cultural and just state of ethics, we have found that each elementary school has three and only three principal problems to solve: (1) preparation of the individual for his future vocation in the community; (2) the making ethical of this vocation; (3) to make the individual able to join in the common work of raising the ethical standard of the community of which he is a member." "'' The opportunity for the individual to acquire the highest pos- sible skill in a particular vocation is the minimum of the social heritage which society is duty-bound to guarantee its members. Yet it is possible to overestimate the significance of industrial effi- ciency for industrial activity. The advance in the utilization of machinery has been marked by a proportional decrease in the need for skilled labor. A machine-tender, rather than a skilled mechanic, is the function of the mass of employees in present-day industry. In many industries, the workman, from an individual and class standpoint, may hope to increase his wages rather by industrial and political action than by his share in the increased productivity that may result from industrial education. Therefore, in the present emphasis upon industrial education the importance of education for citizenship should not be overlooked. The practical achievement of social justice through industrial democracy depends upon eco- nomic, civic, and social education. The insistent industrial ques- tion is not increased production but better distribution."' While advocates of industrial education emphasize, and rightly, the funda- 28Mead, in Report on Vocational Training in Chicago, 1912, p. 9. ^''The Idea of the Industrial School (Pintner's trans., 1913), p. 78. "'Ely, Outlines of Economics, 1909, p. 316. THE COGNITIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION I9S mental importance of efficiency in production for the increase of the total commodities for consumption and for permanent human welfare, the supporters of civic education stress the necessity for the participation of all of us as producers and citizens in the imper- sonal consideration of proposals looking to fairer distribution. If industrial democracy is to come about through the extension of the control of labor unions, as Ely prophesies, economic training will have to be a part of education. The following picture of in- dustrial society would be impossible without an enormous advance in popular education. "Indeed, we expect to see industrial democ- racy achieved through the labor organization. Since the formation of the trades union and the introduction of collective bargaining, the range of this bargaining has constantly widened. . . . The point lies in the possibility, and in general the desirability, of ex- tending the range of collective bargaining until the employees shall have a voice — and it is to be hoped a prevailing voice — in deter- mining all the conditions of employment. Through collective bar- gaining the control of the employees over the business may be in- definitely expanded. . . . The past may be pictured by the single entrepreneur with his capital hiring a thousand men to do his bidding. The future may behold the thousand hiring the entre- preneur and his capital to do their bidding. And the latter is the more pleasing, the more democratic, and altogether the more whole- some picture." "^ Trade education is certainly necessary ; but it should be correlated with training in economics and civics. Our political democracy presupposes the fitness of the indi- vidual to participate in the solution of our most difficult and com- plex social problems. The introduction of our new political instru- ments, the initiative and the referendum, demands social provision for instruction in their use. Mr. Crane in his diatribes against higher education^" seems never to have appreciated the fact that education for civic life was quite as important as training for in- dustry. The examination of a concrete instance will illustrate the role in a democracy which the average man may play in controlling the economic policy of the nation. The prosecution of the Chicago beef packers under the criminal section of the Sherman Anti-Trust 2»Ely, op. cit., pp. 412-13. ^oThe Utility of All Kinds of Higher Schooling, 1909, p. 329. 196 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION Act exhibits the way in which a democracy submits to the judg- ment of its citizens the legality of the conduct of its most promi- nent industrial leaders. The following telling comparison of the economic power of the packing magnates with the obscure indus- trial position of their judges, the jury, carries its own moral: "These are the beef men whose fate rests with the jury. These ten men are the defendants in the government's suit brought under the criminal section of the Sherman anti-trust law and the amount of their fortunes: J. Ogden Armour, president Armour & Co., $100,000,000; Thomas J. Connors, member executive committee Armour & Co., $1,000,000; Arthur Meeker, member executive com- mittee Armour & Co., $3,000,000; Louis F. Swift, president Swift & Co., $25,000,000; Edward F. Swift, vice-president Swift & Co., $25,000,000; Charles H. Swift, vice-president Swift & Co., $25,- 000,000 (the three Swifts together, $75,000,000) ; Francis A. Fow- ler, head of the beef department Swift & Co., $2,000,000; Edward Morris, president Morris & Co., $50,000,000; Louis H. Heyman, head beef department Morris & Co., $1,000,000; Edward Tilden, president National Packing Co., $5,000,000; combined wealth of the indicted packers, $237,000,000. Here are the men who decide fate of beef packers: J. H. Edwards, twenty-eight years old, in- spector for Streator Independent Telephone & Telegraph Company, Streator. Asa Bannister, sixty-two years old, farmer, grain and live stock; operates a farm of 260 acres with his sons near Naperville. H. L Bucklin, fifty-four years old, lives at Dundee and superintends operation of the farm he has lived on all his life. Jacob Gleim, forty-six years old, lives in Ottawa and is a baker; he owned a bakeshop two years ago at Seneca. Howard G. Bates, forty-three years old, lives at La Grange and is president of a Chi- cago tailoring firm. William J. Thomas, forty-five years old, lives at Ottawa and is employed as a clerk; at one time he was jailer at Ottawa. Burton H. Myers, forty-two years old, town clerk of Naperville, also a fire insurance solicitor. Adam S. Clow, fifty years old, lives in Wheatland Township, near Plainfield; operates a farm, but is active in politics, having been a candidate for Con- gress recently. Charles H. Nare, fifty-eight years old, 3338 Flour- noy Street; a house salesman for the Fuller & Fuller Drug Com- pany; one of the two Chicagoans on the jury. Judson E. Harvey, fifty-eight years old ; conducts a grocery at Wilton Center, a town THE COGNITIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 197 of fifty inhabitants. Edward J. Ryon, fifty-two years old; lives in Streator and is a carpenter foreman. Thomas Scott, sixty years old, 551 East Forty-sixth Street; cable splicer; has not been em- ployed at his trade for some time; at one time he was a sailor on the lakes." ^^ The spectacle of submitting the question of the legality of the business practices of our "captains of industry" to a jury of farmers, clerks, and small business men should sober the most optimistic believer in the automatic realization of the ideals of democracy. If specific industrial education is necessary because of the specialization of life, in the promotion of social education we emphasize the essential unity of society and interdependence of the activities of its members. Strenuous social action for the encouragement of the dififusion of civic and economic knowledge will facilitate the solution of current social and industrial questions. The movement for the dififusion of social knowledge among the people is not superfluous, insincere, or unappreciated. There is the public library, to be sure, but slight attempt at comparative classi- fication of books according to their authoritativeness and but negli- gible effort to provide systematic courses of study. The newspaper is undoubtedly a great social organ for the dififusion of informa- tion, but its credibility as a teacher of good citizenship is seriously impeached by its political affiliations, by its business interests, and by its function to some extent as a sensation monger.^^ The politi- cal campaign is a public education in the issues of the day, an educa- tion, it is true, characterized by superficiality, "clap-trap," and parti- san bias. Nor is the attitude of the advocates of civic and economic education hypocritical. The most thoughtful of them recognize that within ten or twenty years the wage-earners of our cities will be in control of our municipal government. If the shame of San Francisco be not repeated elsewhere, it is desirable that the labor leaders and the rank and file of workmen be given the opportunity of acquaintance with the present state of knowledge in political and economic science. The workingman, in his turn, though some- what suspicious at first, soon becomes the sworn friend of "uni- versity extension." Social education fits in with his aspirations '^Chicago Examiner, March 26, 1912. »2Fenton, "The Influence of Newspaper Presentations upon the Growth of Crime," in the American Journal of Sociology, XVI (1910-11), 342-71, 538-64. 198 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION and shows practical means of realization. The following incident from the experience of the movement for university extension in Oxford exhibits the mental attitude of the workman: "On one occasion, while presiding at a formal dinner in the hall, my tutor asked for the name of the man present who was most radically opposed to the movement. The man was indicated — a gray-headed, hard-fisted product of the north country The man rose to his feet and said that all his life he had been opposed to truck and dicker with the classes Oxford represented. His friends had been obliged to use main force to get him there; but he was glad he had come. 'I have seen the Conservatives try to govern us,' he said, 'and they failed because they were ignorant of the country as a whole. I am watching the Liberals. They are failing for the same reason. The next ruler of England will be my people. When they come to power they must not fail. And, to succeed, they must have knowledge. So I've changed my mind. I want my people to use this place — learn everything they can from you !' " " The movement for social and industrial education is, then, func- tionally a part of the great social movement of our time for wider participation in the enjoyment of the goods of civilization and the directing of further progress. The achieving of social and indus- trial democracy for the attainment of this end is a socializing proc- ess the index of whose efficiency is the direct ratio of intelligent investigation and discussion involved to brute force. 3. Participation by the person and the group in the widest stretches of human experience is necessary for the sense of mastery over activity and for the completest control over life. Personal appropriation of knowledge means the possibility of utilizing to the full the psychic energy of each individual and of the raising of personality to the «th point of efficiency. Man has exploited the resources of earth ; has marvelously adapted the nat- ural forces to his use, but has scarcely realized the untouched re- sources and the undeveloped capacities of human nature and human mind. "Indeed it must be admitted," says Ward, "that mediocrity is the normal condition, and working efficiency comparatively rare. The question, therefore, is whether society has ever had, or has »3Corbin, "The Superiority of the English," in the Saturday Evening Post, November 9, 1912, p. 47. THE COGNITIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION I99 now, its maximum working efficiency." ^* However much inaccu- racy and distortion entered into the newspaper accounts of the educa- tion and intellectual attainments of young Sidis,^" the case indicates how naive and haphazard are our social arrangements for secur- ing intellectual development. We live, in general, upon too low a level of achievement. Our social surroundings do not present the crises to call out what James^° calls our "stored-up reserves of energy." Control over a particular segment of activity endows the indi- vidual with the sense of mastery which is the core of personality. Herein lies the serious defect of Mr. Crane's criticism of technical education. "Give the boys a good grammar-school education and plenty of manual training in the grammar grades. Then let them get to work in the shops. Working at their trades, and using their spare time wisely, will give them all the practical and technical knowledge they require for any position and for the solving of any problem that the shop may have to offer." " If the mechanic were simply a cog in the industrial mechanism, if he be merely considered a means for the employer's end, a mere factor in increased produc- tivity, then practical shopwork with a minimum of theory is the socially desirable policy. But the mechanic is a human being with psychic faculties capable of development, organization, and refine- ment, and with an intellectual interest which rises above the rou- tine of the mechanical operations. Even if modern industrial tech- nique does not provide opportunity for all to give expression to the "instinct" of workmanship, there is no reason why the intellec- tual interest should not be free to expand to the widest circum- ference. In a similar way, participation in the long reach of human ex- perience is a requirement not only of the human mind, but also of personal and social well-being. The ideal of socialization on the cognitive side is for the person to become conscious not solely of his individual ends and aims but also of those of the race. It is this control by the person over human experience which gives a 34 Ward, Applied Sociology, p. 113. ''Bruce, "Bending the Twig; the Education of W. J. Sidis," in the American Magazine, LXIX, (1909), 690-95. 8«See Memories and Studies, 1912, chap, x, "The Energies of Men." *'Crane, op. cit., p. 269. 200 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION rational basis for self-direction. Socrates taught that the intelli- gent guidance of human conduct lay in the aphorism "Know thy- self." The logical outcome of the development of this attitude is revealed in the skepticism of Hume'* with his denial of the cer- tainty of aught beyond the mental process of the moment. The genetic and objective viewpoints in present-day psychology are em- phasizing the truth that the understanding of the self is depend- ent upon a knowledge of the evolution of the mind and upon the study of behavior. Fundamentally, of course, Socrates is right. Rational self-control implies knowledge of the self. But knowl- edge of the self, of the meaning of instincts and emotions, of the springs of volition, of the ends of conduct, requires a knowledge of all human experience. Social self-control, i. e., the voluntary acceptance by the person of the requirement of his organic mental membership in the social body, can reach its highest expression only when the experience of the individual becomes coeval with that of the race. To make the consciousness of society and of the person coeval with human experience is the great task of history as conceived by Professor Robinson. "Could we suddenly be endowed with a Godlike and exhaustive knowledge of the whole history of man- kind, far more complete than the combined knowledge of all the histories ever written, we should gain forthwith a Godlike apprecia- tion of the world in which we live, and a Godlike insight into the evils which mankind now suffers, as well as into the most promis- ing methods for alleviating them." *' This would come about "not because the past would furnish precedents of conduct, but because our conduct would be based upon a perfect comprehension of exist- ing conditions founded upon a perfect knowledge of the past." *" This same point of view has been repeatedly emphasized by the sociologist. "Sociology (even better 'social science') is an attempt so to visualize and so to interpret the whole of human experience that it will reveal the last discoverable grounds upon which to base conclusions about the rational conduct of life." *^ Feeble as have ** "The true idea of the human mind is to consider it as a system of different perceptions or different existences." — Treatise on Human Nature (Green and Grose, editors, 1882), I, 541. ^^The New History, 1912, pp. 20-21. *oibid., p. 21. iiSmall, General Sociology, p. 35. THE COGNITIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 201 been our efforts to analyze the meaning of the events of the past, any endeavor to democratize the knowledge thus achieved has been yet feebler. Conscious of the importance of their task, social scien- tists should co-operate*" for its more speedy and perfect accom- pHshment, mindful that the value of their labors lies in its practical application and its availability for use. In the social order of the future which we are evolving with its economic security and realized democracy, competition and rivalry will be raised from the economic to the intellectual plane. With no waste of stunted bodies and dwarfed minds the social situation will require a higher standard of intellectual efficiency and a more rational direction of psychic energy. In the unfettered and un- cramped development of the intellectual interest will be found the freest unfolding of personality and the most effective guide for life- control. A paragraph will suffice to sum up the argument concerning the function of the cognitive element in' socialization. The socializing process in its intellectual aspect demands the participation of the person in the inter-mental activity of the group for the promotion of social progress, for the achieving of political and industrial de- mocracy, and for life-control. Fundamentally, socialization on its cognitive side means that social evolution has become ideational. The ideational character of the process has two meanings. First of all, it signifies that there may now be inserted between the stimu- lus and the response of an individual an idea which may summa- rize the experience, not merely of the person, but also of genera- tions. In the same way the group may, in a present crisis, utilize its own past experience or that of other groups and thus avoid the dangers of experiment. In the second place, the ideational char- acter of the socializing process signifies that its efficient function- ing depends upon the widest circle of participation in it. This, then, is the paradox of the cognitive aspect of socializa- tion: that our present equipment of scientific knowledge is greatly ahead of its practical application; that its dissemination has out- run its practical utilization. The truth is that change in mental attitude is necessary before conduct can be affected, because "intel- ♦'i Small, Meaning of Social Science. This book develops the thesis that the co-operation of social scientists is necessary for a synthetic interpretation of human experience. 202 THE FUNCnON OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOQAL EVOLUTION lect is not an impelling but a directing force." *' But change in mental attitude involves change of the affective as well as change of the cognitive aspect of ideation. As Ward has demonstrated, "The motive of all action is feeling." ** What, then, is the nature of personal participation in the attitude, sentiment, and social feel- ing of the group ? What effective influence does social feeling exert over the condiict of the indiyidual ? "Ward, Dynamic Sociology, I, 12. **Ibid.. I, 11. CHAPTER XIII THE AFFECTIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION Socicilization, in its affective aspect, or personal participation in the attitude, feeling, and sentiment of the group is necessary both for personal development and for social progress. The hold of sentiment upon human action and its "almost irresistible" power have been recognized, both by those who approve and by those who condemn its role in progress. "Sentiment," says Cooley, "is the chief motive-power of life, and as a rule lies deeper in our minds and is less subject to essential change than thought, from which, however, it is not to be too sharply separated." * Ward states the universal aspect of the role of the aifective nature of man. "Throughout all time past, the mass of mankind has been carried along by the power of sentiment." ^ At the present time, however, there is a tendency among a certain group of sociologists to minimize the role of feeling in social life. Bernard has contributed an incisive but extreme statement of this point of view. He asserts "(1) that feeling is a purely individual- istic and subjectivistic criterion of evaluation, (2) that feeling can be a cause of activity only when mental states or processes rather than objective social results are made the ends of attention and effort, (3) that pleasurable feeling can become attached to any activity regard- less of the social or even individual value of that activity, and hence (4) that the sanction or evaluation of feeling upon conduct is worth- less as a criterion of the individual or social utility of that conduct." ' Let us consider these points in detail. 1. The statement that "feeling is a purely individualistic and subjectivistic criterion of valuation" apparently fails to differentiate between the meaning of "individualistic" and "subjectivistic." Feel- ing is undoubtedly a subjective experience, and so is thought, but is it therefore necessarily individualistic? The feelings that accom- pany our social instincts certainly have a distinct social reference ^Social Organisation, p. 177. 2 Ward, Dynamic Sociology, I, 11. »"The Transition to an Objective Standard of Social Control," in the American Journal of Sociology, XVI (1910-11), 212. 203 204 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION and a positive socializing influence. Then, too, the development of our affective experience, like our intellectual life, takes place in the group situation and becomes thoroughly saturated with social mean- ing. Family pride, patriotism, loyalty, are sentiments, or highly evolved feeling complexes, which have obvious social significance. Ellwood, it is true, states that feeling "is the true subjective or indi- vidualistic element in the mental life." But he recognizes the one- sided nature of this statement when he adds that though feeling is "through and through an individual matter," its tendencies "must necessarily be individualistic except as it tends to conform to racially uniform tendencies or instincts on the one hand, or to social control on the other." * In this exception (the italics are mine) Ellwood points out the social nature of the origin, development, and function of feeling. 2. Bernard's analysis of the neural basis of feeling is a valuable contribution to social theory, even though he fails to realize all its implications. His modified statement of the Meyer theory of the neural correlate of pleasantness and unpleasantness' gives sociolo- gists a scientific interpretation of the exact process of feeling. "Feeling ... is the result of the correlation, i. e., the supple- mentation or interference of nervous processes in such a way as to increase or to diminish the neural activity along a certain or given pathway. Where a nervous process or set is augmented, pleasant- ness is experienced, and where a nervous process or set is weakened or diminished, there is unpleasantness." * It is just in this reinforc- ing and inhibiting activity that the function of feeling consists. As Ellwood says, "Feeling does, however, modify activity. If the feel- ing tone aroused by an activity is pleasurable, the activity is rein- forced, but if it is disagreeable or painful, the activity tends to be inhibited."' *0p. cit., p. 257. '"While the correlate of sensation is the nervous current itself, the correlate of pleasantness and unpleasantness is the increase or decrease of the intensity of a previously constant current if the increase or decrease is caused by a force acting at a point other than the point of sensory stimula- tion." — "The Nervous Correlate of Pleasantness and Unpleasantness," in the Psychological Review, XV (1908), 307. *0p. cit., p. 187. ^Op. cit., p. 114. THE APFECTIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 20$ 3. While Bernard is right in pointing out the relativity of feeling, he errs in not recognizing that feeling has not an absolute but only a limited range of relativity. Certainly the instances cited to indi- cate the pathology of pleasantness and unpleasantness as in sex abnormalities* and excessive use of drugs are evidence against rather than for the theory of the absolute relativity of feeling. The modi- fiability of feeling as well as of the instinctive tendencies through experience suggests the possible role of socialization through social influences in the process. 4. Bernard's conclusion that because of this evidence the crite- rion of feeling as a guide for conduct is "worthless" is open to question. Feeling, because of its reinforcing and inhibiting activity in relation to the act, does represent the immediate attitude of the person. With the normal individual within broad limits this "neural set" stands for what is organically and racially advantageous. Within narrower limits this mental attitude of acceptance and refusal* represents habit, the "me-side" of custom, for the "mores" in their affective aspect mean the participation of the person in the emotional attitude of the group, sanctioning or disapproving con- duct from the standpoint of social welfare. The hypothesis that the feelings are purely individualistic fails to square with the evidence presented by psychologists in their study of the development of the social self. The person develops in the primary groups of the home, playground, and community,^" all aspects of his mental life : affective as well as cognitive and volitional. The emotional nature of the child in its growth becomes peculiarly responsive to the social influences of intimate personal group life. As Mead has clearly and concretely indicated, the growth of per- sonality in all aspects is social.^^ To what extent, then, does feeling give us a guide to conduct? A basis for answering this question may be furnished by a schematic outline of the act. We may use the conventional illustration of the boy and the forbidden candy. Here is the candy as the stimulus and the impulse of the boy to take and eat. We may infer that the "Op. cit., p. 334. «Cf. Angell, op. cit., p. 320. loCooley, Social Organisation, chaps, iii-v. ^^Supra, p. 7, note. 206 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION sensory neural processes connected with the sense-organs directly stimulated appear in consciousness and tend to reinforce the general neural activity and to complete the act. But in this situation a con- flicting impulse to draw back manifests itself in consciousness, first as an inhibiting tendency and then as an emotional crisis in which there is a rivalry of the tendency to respond to the stimulus of the candy and the tendency to respond to the mental image of the mother's negative attitude. The emotional tension may resolve itself into either the act of taking the candy or of withdrawal, or may lose its force and pass into a reflective stage in which the mental imagery suggests the functional basis of the maternal prohibition, i. e., the injurious physiological effects of excessive eating of candy. Even this relatively reflective process is likely to be colored by rein- forcing or inhibiting affective tones ; and final action in accordance with the personal judgment of right or socially desirable conduct is accompanied by the feeling of an "inward glow." In this situation, while the feeling tones are not the object of the act, they represent in consciousness the criteria of the act. The role of feeling in its func- tion of reinforcing or inhibiting neural activity is therefore of prime significance in the socialization of the person. With this general recognition of the role of the affective aspect of socialization, we shall now consider the significance of personal participation in the organized attitudes and sentiments of social groups and ia the objec- tive creations of these attitudes, such as art and religion. The meaning of personal participation in the affective life of the group for the development of personality and the ongoing of progress lies in at least four considerations: (1) Personal par- ticipation in the feeling and sentiment of the group plays a dynamic and progressive, as well as a passive and conservative role in social evolution. (2) Social evolution depends upon the refinement of feeling and the breadth of sympathy for the maintenance of the achievements of civilization. (3) Personal participation in the values of art and of religion is a significant means of promoting social solidarity as well as an important medium of personal development. (4) Personal participation in the social developments of the aesthetic and ethical values is desirable because of man's greater capacity for enjoyment than for creation. 1. The participation of the person in the organized affective life of the group makes possible its progressive as well as its conservative THE AFFECTIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 20? function. A consideration of the function of the affective conscious- ness in the individual will serve to illustrate its wider scope of activity in the group. The significance of affection in its complex, as well as in its simple forms is, as we have seen, evaluative.*^ Thus pleasure and pain are the sign-posts of the organically beneficial and injurious; they are the "'mental attitudes' of acceptance and refusal."*^ This monitory function of affective consciousness becomes more definite and directional in the emotional psychosis. "The significance of emotion as a fact of consciousness would seem, therefore, to be resident in this monitory function, represented by its compelling announcement of needed adjustments, its report of unstable equilibrium." ** But even in the individual pleasantness and unpleasantness and emotion are not simply conservative of racial experience : they mediate change of response according to the situa- tion of the organism. When an instinctive or habitual co-ordination breaks down, the fact is reported in consciousness as painful or irri- tating, and random efforts are made to make the required adaptation. The reconstruction of the co-ordination seems also to be mediated by the affective elements. Thus, in human experience, its most general form shows itself in the building up of hand-and-eye co-ordinations in a game of skill, such as tennis. Out of the random strokes by trial and error, mediated by discomfort at "bad" strokes and pleasure at "good" strokes, is developed the particular co-ordination to meet the particular situation. So also in the social life of the person. Through participation in the attitudes and sympathies of various groups the person adapts his congenital attitudes fitted for organic welfare to meet the complex environment of modem civilization. The transformation of the dynamic but destructive emotions into socially valuable habits is as important a process for social stability and well-being as the organization of instincts into habits. On the other hand, affective attitudes are as significant for social change as for social order. Feelings of uneasiness, dissatisfaction, irritation, even more definite attitudes, as fear and anger, often indicate the Crisis, become part of the problem, and necessitate readjustment. *^See also Hayes, "Social Values," in the American Journal of Sociology, XVIII (1912-13), 470-71. "Angell, op. cit, p. 320. "/fcjrf., p. 378. 208 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION A highly organized form of conduct sanctioned" by sentiment and convictions of its value is found in the "mores." While appre- ciating the high value of Professor Sumner's analysis of the forma- tion and the function of the "mores" in human life, it is necessary to dissent from him in regard to his conception of the uselessness of conscious effort to modify them. Sumner thus describes the origin and influence of folkways: "The folkways are habits of the indi- vidual and customs of the society which arise from efforts to satisfy needs ; they are intertwined with goblinism and demonism and primi- tive notions of luck, and so they win traditional authority. Then they become regulative for succeeding generations and take on the character of a social force. They arise no one knows whence or how. They grow as if by the play of internal life energy. They can be modified, but only to a limited extent, by the purposeful efforts of men. In time they lose power, decline, and die, or are transformed. While they are in vigor they very largely control indi- vidual and social undertakings, and they produce and nourish ideas of world philosophy and life policy." ^* His conception of the un- conscious origin and modification of the "mores" is indicated in the following passage : "The folkways, therefore, are not creations of human purpose and wit. They are like products of natural forces which men unconsciously set in operation, or they are like the instinctive ways of animals, which are developed out of experience, which reach a final form of maximum adaptation to an interest, which are handed down by tradition and admit of no exception or variation, yet change to meet new conditions, still within the same limited methods, and without rational reflection or purpose." " While emotion, sentiment, and "pathos," organized about the approved ways of conduct, act as a conservative force, emotional reaction against an outworn or outgrown idea or practice is the dynamic force which destroys the old folkways and transforms the new folkways into "mores." Most certainly the first step in the process is not rational, but many of the intermediate steps may be so. What blinded Sumner to the actual process involved was that the stages of change in the character of the folkway are often difficult loSumner, Folkways, p. 3. ^'Ibid., Preface, pp. tii-iv. "Ibid., p. 4. THE AFFECTIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 209 to detect and to analyze. Whenever we can trace the process, we shall generally discover the active conscious efforts of individuals mediating the change. Without the knowledge of the facts of the case, the transition from female infanticide to girl-rearing among Cossacks at Jaik might be ascribed merely to slight variations which soon introduced the new folkway. But a study of the case shows that the change involved, first of all, to be'sure, the emotional reaction of one family against the practice, and later the conscious decision of the whole community. "The following account is given of the Cossacks which have settled at Jaik : 'Because of the murderous customs of these robbers, or more probably because of a certain superstitious notion,' or as somiC think, because on account of the cries of the children they would not be able to conceal their abode from their foes nor protect it from capture, they made a community-contract with each other, that their children should be slain at birth. They actually practiced this tyranny some years, as all the Cossacks of Jaik still affirm, only with the difference that some think that they slew merely the girls and spared the boys. After a period of this inhuman policy a daughter was born to a man of this tribe by the name of Tit Fedorow. The tear s of his wife touched hi m and he concealed the girl bab y for two y ga^s^in his home" ButTfir^lly. ~soime'"oTTiis comrades discovered it, and he perceived that it could no longer be concealed. Since just at this time a Cossack Assembly was in ses- sion, he took his daughter in his arms, carried her into the circle and spoke abruptly. It was true that he knew of the common agreement against the rearing of children, but he could not bathe his hands in his own blood. With this speech he delivered to court- martial not only the innocent child, but also himself, because he had made light of the mutual compact. At first the majority decided that both, the father as well as the child, should die in order that their law and their compact should not be violated and weakened. But, finally, the larger number became touched and moved to pity. Full of sympathy, they cried that both should be spared. Thus, not only was this Cossack, Tit Fedorow, and his little daughter saved from death, but the inhuman contract was entirely repealed and since this time they have reared all their children." ^^ i^Stern, op. cit., II, 44S-46; quotes as authority Die jaiker Milis und ihre Verfassung, Biischings Magazin. 210 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION The growth of anti-slavery sentiment in the North before the Civil War affords many examples of the ways in which mental atti- tudes arise and grow. It was the emotional reaction of northerners against certain of the exceptional evils of slavery which furnished the dynamic power for the abolition propaganda and made impera- ) tive the formulation of purposive programs of reform. The emo- tional shock experienced by Abraham Lincoln by his experience in the New Orleans slave-market did not dissipate itself in sentimental \ sympathy, or concentrate itself into a blind, unreasoning hatred of jthe South, but it chained the attention and awakened the intellect foi the future emancipator of the slaves to the demands of humanity for a rational solution of the question. "He saw a slave, a beautiful mulatto girl, sold at auction. She was felt over, pinched, trotted \around to show to bidders that said article was sound, etc. Lincoln rvalked away from the sad, inhuman scene with a sick feeling of htnsmotherable hate. He said to John Hanks this : 'By God ! if I ever get a chance to hit that institution, I'll hit it hard, John.' " " These two illustrations of the progressive character of personal participation in the change and reconstruction of the mental attitudes of the group indicate the function of the emotions, in particular, and the affective consciousness, in general, in social progress. It is this progressive dynamic activity of the emotions in relation to the solu- tion of social problems that Patten identifies with social religion. While we may not agree with him in his definition, we cannot dispute the reality of the process which he describes. "Religion begins not with a belief in a God but with an emotional opposition to removable evils. It is a psychic reaction, not an intellectual conviction, and its one essential element is its program for saving social outcasts. Our social instincts are thus evoked in its favor, and its opposite lies in the selfish tendencies that would force to the wall those not fitted for the struggle demanded for survival." ^° Disregarding for present purposes Patten's identification of religion with this emotional state antagonistic to social evils, we find in his statement recognition of I'Letter of William H. Herndon of October 21, 1882, containing the story on the authority of John Hanks. (Arnold, Life of Abraham Lincoln, 1885, p. 31, note). A later biographer gives the substance of this story but states that it has been "hopelessly exaggerated in the telling." (Hapgood, Abraham Lincoln, 1899, p. 25). '"'Social Basis of Religion, 1911, p. 13. THE AFFECTIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 211 the role played in social change by a person emotionally aroused by the malfunctioning of a social habit. Emotions are evaluative, they carry in them, even in their sublimated forms, vestiges of their sig- nificance for life-survival, for succeSs or failure. They furnish the dynamic power which, organized and rationally directed, brings about the solution of the social problem. 2. The dynamic force which conserves the tested and tried and which motivates change resides, as we have seen, in the affective life of man. But the role of feeling in social progress is determined not merely by its intensity, but more characteristically by its kind and by its organization about significant objects in the stimuli- response situ- ation. We have already indicated how important a part the intensity ^ of the emotion, whichisthe exponent of _the t ension of the rivalry between stimulus and response, plays as the dynamic of social ' change. Even more important than the quantitative force of feeling is the nature of its organization around appropriate stimuli in the natural and the social world. The limited range of the relativity of feeling is important for socialization. The definite organization of the affective life of the person with the refinement of emotion which may accompany the process is the unconscious and conscious product of experience and education. The refinement of the feelings and sensibilities means a more and more delicate adjustment of the organism to a growing complexity of stimuli so that injurious responses may be inhibited and desirable responses set free. Two methods may secure the desired delicate emotional adjustment of the person to his social world: (a) control of external stimuli by society so as not only to eliminate stimuli which call out personally and socially injurious responses but also to render attractive stimuli which promote behavior of advantage to the individual and the group ; and (b) the control of the situation by the individual so that his organized moral personality reacts as a whole rather than as discrete parts. a) The social group has always sought to control the stimuli impinging upon its members. Two methods of control have been utilized. One policy of the group has been to modify or eliminate the objective stimuli, as in the substitution of flinch for playing cards, or in the outlawing of the saloon in prohibition states. The 212 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION Other policy of the group has been to change the nature of the affec- tive response of the person to certain stimuli in the environment, where the natural or organic response would be at variance with con- duct conceived to be socially desirable. Taboo in primitive society, Puritan "mores," and a gentleman's code of honor all represent the formation of definite affective attitudes involving the establishment of criteria for conduct. The importance of control of the stimuli by the group is based on two main considerations : first, the limited range of the relativity of feeling, and secondly, the plasticity of response in the child and the youth. Stimuli with an organic or instinctive appeal, such as gambling, narcotics, and sex, tend readily to call out in the indi- vidual responses with pleasureable feeling tone, which may become habitual and injurious to the person and to the group, ^he problem is particularly acute where the child is exposed to these stimuli. Child psychologists have pointed out the suggestibility of children. The studies of Freud and others have made more exact the decisive and permanent influence of early impressions upon the emotional life of the person. Practical social workers and parents are coming to realize the necessity of protecting the child from those stimuli which make a premature and morbid appeal to instinctive tenden- cies and develop corresponding affective attitudes. In twentieth- century society the problem has become intensified because of the commercialization of recreation and of the stimuli with an organic sanction. The unregulated moving-picture show with its "Robber and Indian" films and its vivid and often attractive portrayal of details of crime, debauchery, and vice, the uncensored ragtime music with its coarse if not vulgar lines, the unsupervised dance hall with its "animal" dances and undesirable associations, prostitution, commercialized and segregated, often under police protection, the unrestricted sale of opium and other drugs, the open saloon, all rep- resent stimuli which make an appeal to the elemental in the impul- sive life and organic makeup of all of us. These are all stimuli which the community can more or less efiSciently control. Until recent years, however, society in its corporate capacity has been almost indifferent to the devastation of character wrought therefrom or has cynically levied tribute upon the special interests which were profiting from the exploitation of these stimuli. - THE AFFECTIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 213 At the present time a consensus of opinion has been arrived at to the effect that childhood in its emotional development must be safe- guarded from the unrestricted play of these stimuli. It is recognized that certain stimuli call out impulses with an intense accompanying emotional excitement which represent responses no longer indi- vidually or socially advantageous and without a function in either the racial or the social situation. Instead, an affective attitude is developed which tends to promote and sanction activity opposed to the welfare of the person and the group. , Consequently strong popular movements are now on foot to con- trol these commercialized stimuli. States and cities have established boards of censors for moving-picture films. Public dances are under municipal supervision in practically all our large cities. Scores of our larger cities have abolished the attractive segregated vice district. The waxing prohibition wave is steadily increasing the extent of dry territory where the open saloon is no longer a constant stimulus to the drinking of intoxicating liquors. Society seems determined by the elimination or regulation of these commercialized stimuli to protect childhood and youth. It is highly desirable that this social control be not too coercive and repressive. Its aim, so far as possible, should be to eliminate merely those aspects of the stimuli which are injurious and to substitute therefor stimuli calling out responses which function in the emotional and moral develop- ment of the person. Above all, so far as adults are concerned, we must place our chief reliance upon the inner direction of conduct by the person. But this standpoint implies a high degree of socialization of the affective life. b) As important as social control of stimuli is the personal control made possible by the higher organization and development of the emotional life of the individual. Social evolution, if it be not abortive, depends upon the refinement of feeling and of sympathy in personal development for the maintenance of the achieved stage of civilization. The down-pulling forces in society originate in the unrefined or perverted affective nature of its members. The ele- ment that threatens the disintegration of modern civilization is not ignorance, but "bad" and "low" taste. Coarseness, vulgarity, intem- perance, sensualism, lust, vice, are the expressions of unrefined or perverted human interests, which, uncontrolled, tend to undermine the achievements of the past. Is twentieth-century science but to 214 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION minister to the crude tastes and coarse desires of barbarians? Higher economic advance should be the basis for the promotion of the higher human values. Yet modern life, like all times of transition, exhibits a curious admixture of barbarism and civilization. Especially acute in our age is that huge problem of every generation to civilize the child and the youth equipped at birth for a savage rather than a civilized existence. Added to the barbarism of the rising generation is the barbarism of our immigrants. Ragtime and the vaudeville, the prevalence of slang, architectural monstrosities, yellow- journalism, are everyday manifestations of this mental attitude. Snobbishness, posing, conspicuous expenditure, are evidence in the "higher" social circles of arrested development on the affective side of life. The chief function of socialization in its affective aspect is, there- fore, to transform the emotions representing attitudes corresponding to primitive society and often socially injurious into socially valuable sentiments. Emotion is the subjective side of instinctive impulse; sentiment, the "me-side" of habit. The refinement of emotion is not so much in changing its organic nature, though that does change with experience, as in the fixation of its response in relation to certain stimuli. As the instinctive co-ordination disappears without its ade- quate stimuli, so the emotion dwindles away. Herein, as we have seen, lies in the group, to a large extent, the supreme control^^ over the higher development of the aesthetic and moral qualities of human nature. The refinement of feeling, thus secured, substitutes per- sonal for social control of response to stimuli. The musician gets , no pleasure from the coarser forms of ragtime. Few persons will be found who are equally ardent admirers of Henry James and Harold Bell Wright. Washington Gladden, with his vital social experience, remains cold to the crude emotional appeal of a Billy Sunday. Personal participation in art and religion, therefore, pro- vides a social medium for the refinement of feeling. For art and religion embody in institutional form the achieved objective aesthetic and ethical goods of humanity. Breadth of sympathy, while achieved in a sentimental way, through art, poetry, and history, finds its effective development in intimate contact with the struggles, victories, and defeats of men 2iCf. Addams, The Spirit of Youth and the City Streets, 1909; Ross, Social Control. THE AFFECTIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 215 and women. Sympathy in its organic form may be socially injuri- ous, may be wasted on cats and dogs, if it does not find a functional stimulus. This, then, is the function of social workers to acquire such sympathetic understanding of oppressed classes that they may impart the contagion of their sympathy to those who live apart from destitution. The splendid social service of Jane Addams has been fitly characterized by Graham Taylor as "interpreter." 3. Personal participation in art and religion brings about refine- ment of feeling and breadth of sympathy. Art, onfe of the earliest products of socialization, has been an efficient and attractive medium for the socializing of the individual. Biicher^^ showed the reciprocal relation of rhythm to work. The mimetic dance, the drama, the folk-song, the war-dance, among primitive people exercise a hypnotic eflFect upon the person, assimilating and organizing the individual feeling of the members of the group into a social emotional unity. While the development of the technical side of art has doubtlessly tended to separate the artist from the group, still, at the present time, art through literature and the drama plays an important part in life. Tolstoi has analyzed the social psychological meaning of art: "To evoke in oneself a feeling one has once experienced, and having evoked it in oneself, then, by means of movements, lines, colors, sounds, or forms expressed in words, so to transmit that feeling that others may experience the same feeling — this is the activity of art. . , . Art is a human activity, consisting in this, that one man consciously, by means of certain external signs, hands on to others feelings he has lived through, and that other people are infected by these feelings, and also experience them." "^ Feeling, then, is not individualistic, as some assert,''* but distinctly social. "WhereasWwords," he continues, "a mantransmits his thoughts.^ anotherj^bj^^jneansjoT'"aH'"KTrans^^ feelings. ' ^* This fact tfSt' art is fundamentall^'^ociairtKariririTie^ubtlest form of com- munication, explains its important influence upon the formation of personal attitudes. Ideas with emotional coloring, "idea-forces," spread rapidly throughout the group. Art, by means of sentiment, gives the highest power of diffusion to thought. '^Arbeit und Rhythmus, 4th ed., 1909. '^^What Is Art? (Maude's trans., 1898), p. 50. '^Supra, pp. 203 ff. ^'O/-. cit., p. 48. 2l6 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION The relation of art to personal development has two aspects. First, the person finds pleasure and self-expression (Einfuhling^^ is the apt term in German) in rhythm, color, word-picture, allusion, rhyme. The old masters in painting, the English classics in litera- ture, classical music, are valuable for personal development, if by real enjoyment of them the individual acquires the sense of artistic appreciation. Then, when the person has achieved standards of aesthetic appreciation, he is enabled to evalue contemporary art, not mechanically by slavish imitation of the old, but by participation in the artistic spirit which lives in all great art. Just as the painter finds himself in a mastery of the technique of the past, so the lover of art joins in the community of feeling of the race and its progres- sive realization through an appreciation of the beautiful engendered by, contact with the highest expressions of feeling in art, in literature, and in music. Since art is the highest expression of the communion of feeling, it plays a dynamic role in social change. Democratic participation in art has made the stage and literature an important medium of inter-mental activity. The dominance of the audience over the playwright and actor, of the public over the author, is so strong that the latter little more than express and 'intensify the opinions and moral convictions of playgoers and fiction readers. Jane Addams emphasizes the role of the stage as a teacher of morality : "There is no doubt that we are at the beginning of a period when the stage is becoming the most successful popular teacher in public morals. . . . The stage is dealing with these moral themes in which the public is most interested. . . . While many young people, and older ones as well, go to the theater if only to see represented and to hear discussed the themes which seem to them so tragically im- portant, there is no doubt that what they hear here, flimsy and poor as it often is, easily becomes their actual moral guide. In moments of moral crisis, they turn to the sayings of the hero who found him- self in a similar plight." " Of equal importance with the stage is the influence of literature upon moral ideas. The sacred books of all religions have drawn upon art to lend attractiveness to the religious sanction of morality. 2eLipps, Aesthetik, 1903. 2'"The Reaction of Moral Instruction Upon Social Reform" in the Sur- vey, XXII (1909), 19. THE AFFECTIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 2X^ The poet and the writer of fiction have created social types that exert a guiding influence upon conduct. It is a commonplace to refer to the effect of Uncle Tom's Cabin in solidifying and intensifying north- ern antipathy for slavery. Weems's Life of Washington in its men- dacious idealization of the father of our country had a part in the molding of a Lincoln.^' The publication of Eikon Basilike, the ostensible autobiography of Charles I, the martyred king, by reason of its pathos and sentiment, had an important place in accelerating the reaction from Puritanism.^" An examination of contemporary art in fiction and in plays furnishes proof of its function in socialization. Those books and plays dealing with situations of fundamental human interest which enforce the moral qualities approved by intimate group association clearly indicate the inter-mental action of author and public. Those literary productions which endeavor vividly to present social prob- lems and to stimulate thought reveal a more active participation of the author in the socializing process. So important is art as a vehicle of thought that social science and artistic expression might with mutual profit form an alliance to promote by attractive presen- tation rational public thinking on social problems. Religion as an, aspect of personality and as a factor in progress has been variously appraised and judged. Many of the theories of religion are of the content order. Belief in spirits or in supernatural beings as a criterion of religion makes of it no fundamental con- stituent of social and personal life, leaves it without root in human nature, a mere passing mental attitude in human experience. Func- tional definitions of religion are in terms of attitude. Tolstoi defines it from the mystical, passive point of view: "True religion is the establishment by man of such a relation to the Infinite Life around him, as, while connecting his life with this Infinitude and directing his conduct, is also in agreement with his reason and with human knowledge." ^" Small defines religion from the active personal and functional standpoint : "I commit myself physically, mentally, and spiritually, to promote all those things which have the highest human value." '^ Religion, then, is the consciousness of my right relation 2'Arnold, op. cit., pp. 23-24. "sGreen, op. cit.. Ill, 265. ^oWhat Is Religion? (Tchertkoff's and Fifield's trans., 1902), pp. 7-8. '^Lecture on "Modernism." 2l8 THE rUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIA.L EVOLUTION as an individual to the universe, or as a person to the social order. It may in different persons and social groups emphasize either the mystical or the practical mode of expression. I may adapt my atti- tude to fit the world, or I may endeavor to control the world. I may accept the present order of things as final, or. I may throw my ener- gies into the reform of "things as they are." There exists a tendency to define religion in social terms and to limit its function to social service. The definition of Patten, quoted above, tends in this direction.'^ A recent writer on the psychology of religion takes this same position. Religion is defined as "the con- sciousness of the highest social values." ^^ A definition of religion in purely social terms is defective because the religious attitude has its roots in prehuman tendencies. The biological makeup of the person is more fundamental than his social nature. The person has other interests, other values to achieve than the social. Yet granting this point, the identifying of religious activity with the realizing of social values is of worth as emphasizing relative importance. We live in a world of things and a world of persons. So far as the physical world is concerned, the greater part is unmodifiable by us, and what is changeable is modifiable by collective effort. On the other hand, the social world of which I am a part is changeable. Social inequality, social injustice; social misery, are defects of a social system that can be changed by conscious social action. An article recently appeared in the Hibbert Journal entitled "Is the Universe Friendly?" The scientific point of view is that nature is absolutely indifferent. We may ask the question. Is the social order friendly ? So far, at present, as it is impersonal, so far as it has not become socialized, it is unfriendly. But herein lies the great differ- ence : whereas we cannot change the attitude of the universe toward us, we can change the attitude of the social order. The realizing of the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man is bound up with the achieving of a socialized social order. What, then, is the function of religion? Religion is centered around those things vital to the person and the group. Crawley points out that "the religion of the civilized man is, no less than that of the savage, concerned most intimately with elemental facts and interests such as life and death. It consecrates birth, ^^Supra, p. 210. "^Ames, Psychology of Religious Experience, 1910, Preface, p. viii. THE AFFECTIVE ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 219 adolescence, and marriage, it assists the sick, and surrounds the dead with its halo. . . . The religious emotion consecrates such ele- mental concerns — its objective, in one word, is Life." '* Modern religion, however, realizes that "the more abundant life" is to be realized by persons, not as individuals, but as members of social groups. Individual salvation has become an aspect of social salvation. We do not desire to minimize the social function of religion in social development. A foremost exponent of the dynamic effect of the religious attitude in social progress is Kidd. He opposes the theory that social evolution depends upon intellectual progress. His thesis is that the sanction for progress is religious, that is, super- natural or ultra-rational. The chief points in his line of proof are (a) the influence of the mediaeval church in the Middle Ages and of Protestantism in modem times in developing^' humanitarianism ; (b) the contention that the present privileges of once exploited classes have not been wrung by force but conceded^* by the humanity of the classes in power; and (c) that religion, by securing equality of opportunity makes for social efficiency in the struggle for exist- ence.^' With allowance for errors of exaggeration due to zeal in the defense of his thesis, Kidd has demonstrated that religion has been a factor in progress. The dynamic character of religion is due to its emotional basis Ward pomts out what Kidd, for that malterT" asserts, that religio: is a highly evolved organization of the emotions. "The psychical agencies that have stirred up mankind have been chiefly of a religious nature. Religion is the embodied and organized state of the emotions. It represents the combined forces of human feeling. The immense success with which religious reformers have met has been due to the almost irresistible power of their emotional nature, and never to their intellectual supremacy." '' The strength of the emotional reaction in religion may attach itself to any stimulus. '*"Origin and Function of Religion," in the Sociological Papers, III (1907), 246. "^Social Evolution, 1894, pp. ISlff. »«/6» the person of his interests with those of the group. (3) The person is a con- structive factor in social reconstruction. Since the corporate character of human nature is a precondition to participation by the person in social action, we shall consider first the interrelation of the person and the group. THE VOLITIONAL ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 223 1. Human nature is an outgrowth and a determinant of social organization. This paradox finds its solution through an interpre- tation on the basis of socialization. Cooley points out that human nature is not congenital, that it develops in the face-to-face groups, such as the neighborhood. His definition is as follows : "By human nature, I suppose, we may understand those sentiments and impulses that are human in being superior to those of lower animals, and also in the sense that they belong to mankind at large, and not to any particular race or time. It means, particularly, sympathy and the innumerable sentiments into which sympathy enters, such as love, resentment, ambition, vanity, hero-worship, and the feeling of social right and wrong." ° Human nature, therefore, is but a product of association dependent upon it for survival, capable of modification, and of extension beyond the primary group. With the extension of life from the village with its intimate sys- tem of personal relations to the city and nation with its impersonal system, we have increased the strain upon socialization. Our prob- lem is to socialize the individual for the complex life of today. Con- gregation has ircreased faster than community. External organiza- tion has outrun inner co-operation. The solution for the problem is wide opportunity to the individual for participating in the collective activities. The socialization of the individual, however, is not an automatic process. It has always required and probably always will demand the best efiforts of every generation. Since the mental community preserves the achievements of the past and makes possible future progress, social necessity must provide for the active membership of the person in the social life. For the very reason that social progress consists not so much in attaining an ideal goal of a perfect society, as in achieving higher types of personality through better adaptation of individuals to individuals, and of groups to groups in the struggle for existence, the socialization of the individual is of first-rate importance to group survival and success. Socialization is passing from an unconscious to a conscious stage. Thinking men are becom- ing conscious that human activities are part of a social process ; the average man has become uneasily aware of the existence of a social problem; both social scientists and men everywhere are beginning consciously to co-operate for the purpose of controlling the social •O/-. cit., p. 28. 224 THE rUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION process and of solving the social problem. "Above all, the organic view of mind calls for social knowledge as the basis of morality. We live in a system, and to achieve right ends, or any rational ends whatever, we must learn to understand that system. The public mind must emerge somewhat from its subconscious condition and know and guide its own process." ' At the present time the chief indications of the extension of personal participation in the collective activities are to be observed in the emergence of the excluded classes, the working man and woman, into the process. Professor Wilcox states that the initiative, referendum, and recall, are methods for securing to the people effec- tive participation in political control.' A German woman states as ' f follows the significance of woman's participation in the process : i| "The entrance of woman into the world as a self-creating and self- I responsible force is the precondition of the solution of the sexual ! problem, the precondition of the solution of the woman question." ' ' The finest result of participation in the collective activities is that co-operative effort generates the social spirit and facilitates further united effort. Socialization does not make for an ideal social order so much as for the development of the spirit of team-play in its members. The victory of the Japanese over the Russians in the late war was in part undoubtedly due not only to the superior esprit de corps of the Japanese army, but to the higher mental unity of the folk-mind. The present emphasis upon a functional rather than upon an arbitrary ethical standard has led to a change in the concep- tion of the socially valuable man. He is no longer merely the sociable man, or the self-sacrificing person, but the man equipped to perform a useful function in society and disposed to "square" his individual interests with the public advantag'e. "The basis of all sentiment of this kind is the sense of community, of sharing in a common social or spiritual whole, membership in which gives to all a kind of inner equality, no matter what their special parts may be. It is felt, however, that the differences among men should be func- tional and intrinsic, not arbitrary or accidental." ® *Cooley, op. cit., p. 21. ''Government by All the People, 1912, Preface, p. vii. ^Quoted from Maria von Stach, in the Zeitschrift fur Sosialwissenchaft undPolitik. XXXIII (1912), 891. »Cooley, op. cit., pp. 180-81. THE VOLITIONAL ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 22$ In another place Professor Cooley indicates the function of the social spirit in achievement : "It is indeed probable that the growth of class fellowship will help to foster that spirit of art in work which we so notably lack, and the repose and content which this brings. There is truth in the view that a confused and standardless competi- tion destroys art, which requires not only a group ideal but a certain deliberation, a chance to brood over things and work perfection into them. When the workman is more sure of his position, when he feels his fellows at his shoulder and knows that the quality of his work will be appreciated, he will have more courage and patience to be an artist. We all draw our impulse toward perfection not from vulgar opinion or from our pay, but from the approval of fellow- craftsmen. The truth, little seen in our day, is that all work should be done in the spirit of art, and that no society is humanly organized in which this is not chiefly the case." ^^ Socrates is said to have con- sidered the achievement of the social spirit as the end of co-opera- tion. "The Memorabilia of Xenophon represent Socrates as making this statement : 'The sayings of the wise men of old we unroll and | con together, culling out what good we may, but counting it the great I gain if meantime we grow dear — one to another.' " ^^ Dewey like- ' wise insists upon the value of this feeling for personality., "In social* feeling we merge our private life in the wider life of the community I and in so doing immensely transcend our immediate self and realize* our being in the widest way." ^^ The development of the socialized person through intimate life in primary groups paves the way for the solution of our social prob- lems. Cooley has pointed out that the reconstruction of society requires only the humanizing of social arrangements: "The im- provement of society does not call for any essential change in human nature, but, chiefly, for a larger and higher application of its fami- liar impulses." " A transition from the present impersonal stage of social organization to a socialized order lies in the possibility of extending the primary principles of human nature developed in per- sonal groups to the widest circumference of human contact. A sur- "/6»rf., pp. 244-45. "Devine, Practice of Charity. 1^1, p. 78. "Dewey, Psychology. 1888, p. 272. '^Cooley, op. cit., p. 37. 226 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION vey of recent social progress indicates the degree to which human relations are becoming socialized. Maximum hours of labor for women, prohibition of child labor, factory inspection, playgrounds, industrial compensation for accidents, minimum wages for women, mothers' pensions, all indicate the realizing of this impulse in social organization. The reverse side of the extension of the criteria of human nature throughout social organization is the problem of using and organizing the finer elements in human nature. We have in the past utilized the coarser elements in human nature in our industrial and social consti- tution. We have laid hold of self-interest, of rivalry, of competition, of love of power, and built up our social edifice upon these founda- tions. We have neglected to utilize the finer elements in human nature, kindliness, generosity, brotherhood, and self-sacrifice. Our study of the interrelation of human nature and social organ- ization shows (a) that the characteristic elements of human nature find expression and development in the social life of primary groups ; (b) that the solution of our social problems and the achievement of a more harmonious social order with equal opportunity for all demands the larger utilization of the peculiarly human, because social, elements in personality; and (c) that the perfecting of per- sonality is dependent upon its nurture in a more congenial social and industrial atmosphere. We turn now to attack the problem how best to achieve the reorganization of personality and society made imperative by present-day social and economic maladjustments. 2. First of all it is necessary to distinguish between socialization and social control as two methods for personal and social readjust- ment. In general, we may say social control makes for the establish- ment of order, socialization for the promotion of progress. The purpose of the control is to secure an equilibrium of forces in (society; socialization utilizes order as a basis for attaining less arti- ' 'ficial equilibrium. Ross differentiates social control from social influence by the criterion of purposiveness ; both represent the social domination, but the former is intended, the latter unintended. The more valid cri- terion seems to me to be found in the freedom of the individual. Social control denotes the coercion of the individual ; socia:l influence implies the operation of personal initiative and choice. But instead of the term "social influence" I prefer socialization, using this word THE VOLITIONAL ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 227 in the root meaning of "influence," the inflowing of all the tangible and intangible social aids which enter into the life-development of the person. Human evolution does not consist in the adjustment of the psycho-physical organism to a physical environment, but in the development and organization of human nature as it functions in the life-process through participating in a mental community. This subjective environment is something apart from any individual of the group, but its only lodgment is in the minds of individuals. Socialization, while it does not exclude, certainly does not imply conflict of interests between the individual and society. In fact, socialization in merging the individual into the common life makes against a consciousness of the diversity of interests. Baldwin shows that the great majority of men never consciously raise the antithesis. But where such a conflict is perceived, socialization precludes the coercion of the individual while it implies the solution of the diffi- culty with reference to the promotion of the interests of the group. I do not contend that the individual in the process of socialization may not be conscious of coercion by his associates. But perceiving the conflict, he reconciles his interest with the group interest, or brings the group to conform to his way of thinking. Social control, on the other hand, implies an antithesis between society and the individual, an opposition of the person's feelings and will which is overridden by the superior force of the group. Social- ization does not exclude this consciousness of a conflict of interests, but it implies at the same time a resolution of the opposition which is sanctioned by the feeling and judgment of the person. In the "Titanic" disaster physical f orc6 was required to keep the men among the steerage passengers from boarding boats filled with women and children, while the men of the first arid second cabins, fully as con- scious of the antithesis between the safety of the women and their individual self-preservation, sanctioned the discrimination against them. The boy who quits school upon the death of his father to undertake the support of the family is often quite conscious of the opposition between his individuial interests and those of the mother and the younger children, though the suggestion of action for self- interest alone would be immediately spurned. Now I am not denying the reality and role of social control. Social control is confined to those cases where the individual sub- mits under protest, as it were, to the dominance of the group. This 228 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION coercion need not be physical ; it may be psychical, the fear of losing one's "job," the ridicule of one's associates, the ostracism of one's set. If a man and wife live together because separation would be destroying associations which make up the best of their lives, their unity is to be attributed to socialization; if the continuance of the marriage relation is due to a common desire to keep the home together for the sake of the children, or for consideration of the scruples of relatives whose opinion is dear to them, the result is due again to socialization. But if husband and wife live together, a union of paper and not of hearts for fear of the disapproval of their friends or of the hounding of the "yellow" press, in so far as their reason and feeling do not commend to them a basis in justice and in sentiment for this opposition they are under the compulsion of social control. So far from the perception of conflict being antagonistic to socialization it is often necessary for its rational (Expression. Conscious, socialized participation in the active life of the group implies the perception and the resolution into higher harmony of the conflict between the individuals and the group. This is why social consciousness is so intense in the prophet and the martyr, even when he experiences the sharp clash of his activity with that of the actual unregenerate group. On the other hand, "the man who is most completely domineered by 'society' is the one to whom the thought-thing society is most nearly non-existent." ** The foregoing analysis of the distinction between social con- trol and socialization brings us to the evaluation of each for the promotion of human welfare. If social progress consists in the development of personality, the question would seem at once to decide itself in favor of socialization as the means to that end. An objection to this conclusion, however, has been raised. "So long as the individual is regarded as the measure of social values or is regarded as one of two poles, of which society is considered the other antagonistic pole, there can be no effective and convincing argument for social conformity and co-operation." " This objec- tion, especially in the unfortunate use of the adjective "antago- nistic," seems to ignore the fundamental social nature of the person and his participation in the socializing process. We are not sur- i*SmalI, criticism of point in Sirnmel's article, "How Is Society Pos- sible?" in the American Journal of Sociology, XVI (1910-11), 374, note. ^'Bernard, op. cit., p. 531. THE VOLITIONAL ASPECT OF SOCULIZATION 229 prised then to find the following statement from the same writer: "The advancement of civilization appears to be marked by the growth of the conception of the compulsory and inherent func- tional unity of society, both for the purpose of furthering a scien- tific analysis of social phenomena and for enforcing the findings of that analysis." ^* The essential nature of the functional unity of society, as we have seen,^' does not lie in the outward conformity by compulsion, but in the inner psychic organization developing in free participation in social life. Cooley admirably characterizes this phenomenon as the "dififerentiated unity of mental or social life, present in the simplest intercourse but capable of infinite growth and adaptation." ^' In our study of social development in England, the advancement of civilization appears to be marked by the achieve- ment of a control that rests less on compulsion and more on freedom, that restricts coercion to a smaller and more definite territory and to the abnormal and anti-social groups, and that ex- tends greater freedom of conduct to members of society. Indeed, as Ross is forced to confess,^" the highest criteria of social control are economy, inward simplicity, spontaneity, and diffusion, or, in reality, a minimum of conscious, compulsory control by the group. 3. The conscious and voluntary participation of the person in the collective activities is essential both for personal development and for the higher welfare of the group. Both objects are obtained through the process of socialization. The individual must become a conscious participant in social reconstruction in order to achieve the highest values of personality. Social reform will remain abor- tive in so far as it is exploited by the few for personal distinction and not participated in by the members of the group working together in the common interest. The participation of the members of the group in its mental and social activities is democracy actually at work. The member of the labor union through his organization participates in our de- veloping industrial democracy. The unskilled laborer has no voice nor vote except so far as Socialists, Syndicalists, and social workers act as his spokesmen. We are beginning seriously to ask the ques- tion how far private control of enormous fortunes and big indus- tries tends to throttle free speech and to confine free action on the "Bernard, op. cit., p. 537. "Cooley, op. cit.. p. 4. "Supra, p. 7. "Op. cit., chap, xxxii. 230 THE rXJNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION part of considerable groups of men. Such a gagging of democracy signifies at the same time a stifling of the breath of socialization. But the importance of the individual as a factor in social recon- struction is not confined to our political and industrial life. The real problems of life center in the home and the community. In the family the father and mother have for a few years almost abso- lute, and for many years the dominant, control over the develop- ment of the child. • In the community there is always opportunity for effective services where the person subordinates individual dis- tinction to a cause. Best of all, in village, town, and city there is always a place for the person with the capacity of organizing the members of his group to work together in its service. On first thought it may seem that this emphasis upon the person as the central initiating factor in realizing his own life-values, even though in co-operation with his fellows, runs counter to the trend of the times. The functions of the state have enlarged so rapidly that the role of the individual appears relatively smaller. Yet this change is more apparent than real. While the state is becoming the agent of society in providing safeguards for the economic se- curity of existence, it is being recognized that a large sphere of ac- tivity must preferably be left to the control of the person. Hob- house attempts to draw a functional line of demarkation between these two fields of control. "We see a tendency to the removal of restraints in the sphere in which whatever there is of value to man- kind depends on spontaneity of impulse, free interchange of ideas, and voluntary co-operation going along with the tendency to draw tighter the bonds which restrain men from acting directly or in- directly to the injury of their fellows and to enlarge the borders of the action of the state in response to a developing sense of collect- ive responsibility." '" Even in a problem of so fundamental im- portance to society as the improvement of the physical stock of the race, Havelock Ellis is inclined to depend for its solution upon the socialization of persons rather than upon coercive means of social control. "Even if scientific opinion and general public opinion were ready for marriage legislation in the interests of the regen- eration of the race, it would still be a problem how far such legisla- tion is likely to be in accordance with sound morals. For legislation can only demand actions that are both gerjeralised and externalised, ^oHobhouse, Social Evolution and Politivai Theory, 1911, pp. 202-3. THE VOLITIONAL ASPECT OF SOCIALIZATION 23 1 and the demands of the regeneration of the race must be both particularised and internalised, or they are meaningless and even void. The law may, for instance, enact prohibitions against certain kinds of people marrying, but it cannot prevent procreation, and the mere prohibition to marry is both unjust and unnecessary in so far as it prevents the unions of people who may be fully aware of their racial disabilities and consequent responsibilities, and ready to act accordingly. Thus it is that morals is called upon to retain jealously within its own sphere these aspects of racial regeneration, and to resent the encroachments of law. "For we have to be on guard — ^and that is our final problem, perhaps the most difficult and complex of all — lest our efforts for the regeneration of the race lead us to a mechanical and materialistic conception of life, to the conception of a life regulated by codes and statutes and adjudicated in law courts. Better an unregen- erated life than such a regeneration! For freedom is the breath of life, joy is the prime tonic of life, and no regeneration is worth striving for which fails to increase the total sum of freedom and of joy." " We have, as a race, reached the adolescent stage. We have outgrown ouffeSroftaboo,we'''a^ the arbitrary and often harmful character of our "mores," we are im- patient of even the semblance of the old coercive restraints, we are fiercely fond and jealous of our new freedom. This is a transition stage, so it is all the more important that we lay hold upon what is fundamental in human nature and association. We must recognize that human nature is characteristically social, that inward direction of conduct developing under social influences is more important for welfare and progress than external control through compulsion, and that the person is the vital factor in social reconstruction. So, then, the highest outcome of the socializing process is the co- ordination by the person of his interest with those of the group. In this co-ordination lies the field of struggle wherein personality is developed and refined. The Uber-Mensch, the superman, is not to be the ruthless exploiter of his kind, but the supreme outcome of socialization with a race-long reach of vision, and a sympathy as broad as humanity, who will articulate the ideals of human nature and devote his energy and efficiency to their co-operative realiza- tion. Not Napoleon, but Lincoln is the type of the great man. '^Problem of Race-Regeneration, 1911, pp. 69-70. CHAPTER XV. CONCLUSION Socialization is the dominant factor in human progress. The analysis of its character and significance has been the central object of this essay. Emphasize, as we must, the influence of geographic environment or the role of heredity in determining both the char- acteristics of ethnic groups and individual differences in tempera- ment and mentality within groups, yet the problem of a scientific explanation for human evolution is only partially solved. Social- ization, or the coparticipation of persons in the mental unity of group life, is, as we have seen, the efficient determinant in progress. Over against the physical environment we place the social environ- ment. The physical environment provides the condition for social life: the social environment with its tools of thought and technique functions for the efficient control of the environment. Over against physical heredity we emphasize social heredity. Physical heredity with its chromosomes, its unit determinants, and its laws of dom- inance and of segregation determines the physical characteristics and mental capacity of the person : social heredity endows him with the social capital of humanity. And what are social environment and social heredity but aspects of the process of socialization? With every step in human progress both personal and social de- velopment and achievement are less and less dependent upon the immediate pressure of the geographic environment or upon the congenital physical and mental equipment of the person and are more and more determined by the nature and degree of his partici- pation in the process of socialization. Socialization, we repeat, is the central process in social evolution. It is not necessary at this point to make a detailed resume of our evidence for the dominant role of socialization in hiiman de- velopment. The inner unity of our thesis is vindicated by the dynamic part played by the socializing process in material evolu- tion, in social progress, and in personal development. Our present efficient control over nature is but the objective expression of the functional organization of the minds of-men down the ages and 232 CONCLUSION 233 across continents that we have named socialization. Our present social order, imperfect as it is, our codes of morals, our standards of conduct, and our ideals — the social organism in its most rigid form and its most plastic tendencies — is a passing stage in socialization. Then, too, the degree of the development of personality, whether measured by the technique of control over things and persons, or by aesthetic refinement and emotional power, or by the rhythm of action and reaction in the social life, stands for the index of the socialization of the individual. So, then, this study of the role of socialization in social evolution has a practical significance. The dependence of discovery and in- vention upon socialization leads us to reject the doctrine of eco- nomic determinism. Geographic influences, in general, but con- dition and only in extreme instances determine human activity. The social environment, social heredity, social organization — in a word, socialization — are the dominant forces. Thus, instead of economic determinism we have psychic and social determinism. In speaking of social determinism we mean more than Ward incorporated in his term "social telesis." For Ward, as we have seen,^ thought that society could only accelerate, but not direct, the course of social evolution. But social determinism is the con- structive phase of the process of socialization, and signifies the evaluation of social tendencies and the consequent direction of the movement of society toward the highest human welfare. Recogni- tion of the process of socialization means that social evolution in the future is not to be the outgrowth of economics, but rather the product of ethics. In the failure to perceive this fact, as Professor Ellwood has demonstrated,^ lay the error of Marx. What Marx did emphasize, however, and with rough truth, was that the emergence of the working class into the world of action would amount to a revolution. His mistake lay in too crude a con- ception of the social change involved, namely, in his blindness to the subtle processes of socialization. He dreamed of social ends being achieved by violence, and of the violent taking the coming ''■Supra, p. 190, note. * "The social problem ... is not simply or fundamentally an economic problem; rather it is fundamentally a biological and psychological problem — if you please, a moral problem." — Sociology and Modern Social Problems, 1910, p. 302. 234 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUnON social kingdom by force. He did not appreciate the force of the mental explosion of the proletariat into the thought-world which hitherto had been effectually safeguarded against the masses. The study of social progress in England which we have made is an interpretation of the class struggle from the standpoint of social- ization. All indications point to an intellectual rather than a physi- cal solution of the conflict. For all social orders, according to our analysis, rest upon and require a reconstruction of. mental attitude and are characterized by a peculiar type of socialization. However basic pecuniary values are for the realization of human values,' it is in the human values that the aspirations of men find realization. Since the passing of primitive democracy human nature has been warped in every social order to meet the peculiar require- ments of efficiency in the industrial activities of that order. With the realization of democracy in our present age it is now possible to reconstruct our social order so that it will conform more nearly to the fundamental impulses of human nature. At any rate, the realization of a socialized order is bound up, in the interplay of cause and effect, with the socialization of the person. The identification of the individual in thought and sym- pathy with the ongoing of humanity will multiply the tendencies toward the social direction of human evolution. In the future we may hope to parallel in the achievement of social control our pres- ent efficient physical control over nature. This control over men is not to be won by the loss of individual freedom and happiness. Indeed the harnessing of our social forces is to come, we believe, in its most efficient and effective form through increasing the free- dom and heightening the happiness of the person. If this be a paradox, the clue to its solution lies in the socialization of the per- son. The socializing of the individual means that he consciously shapes his aims and purposes to harmonize with the promotion of the co-ordinated welfare of all members of society. The fact that the person is the center of initiative and invention, that rivalry with his fellows releases the "reserve stores of energy," means from the standpoint of socialization that the individual will be recognized as the active agent in social reconstruction. In so acting he realizes his best self. His fullest participation in the store of knowledge, in ^Cf. Cooley, "Valuation As a Social Process,'' in the Psychological Bul- letin, IX, 441. CONCLUSION 23 s the higher refinements of play and of art, and in both the generalized and the specialized social activities results in the development of personality and in the joy and happiness of life. Thus, for material evolution, for social progress, and for per- sonal development the factor of socialization has dwarfed the factors of geographic environment and inborn mental capacity. Socialization has become the predominant force in social evolution. With the establishment of this point the primary purpose of our thesis is accomplished. There is, however, a secondary object of methodological rather than of practical importance. The attempt has been made to for- mulate the content of the term "socialization." For the progress of sociological thinking it was deemed desirable to develop a coherent organization of the concept "socialization." A cursory examination of both social and sociological litera- ture reveals the need of such an attempt. In contrast with the term "physical environment" and with the term "physical heredity" it is desirable to have a definite unitary conception. This has been the purpose of our analysis of the term "socialization." "Social en- vironment," "social heredity," "education," "nurture," "social cap- ital," and numerous other phrases now in current use are all aspects of the process of socialization and get a more definite and dynamic significance when this relationship is recognized. The old contro- versy as to the relative influence of heredity and environment upon the life of the person loses its ambiguities and vagueness when the confused middle, i. e., the social influences, is clearly defined and socialization is recognized as the decisive factor. Among sociologists the process of socialization has been often pointed out since Simmel gave the term currency,* yet with the larger number it has not been given an adequate place in the sociological system. Spencer "blazed the trail" in his rather crude analysis of the process under the mechanical term "super-organic evolution."^ Ward went wide of the mark when he maintained that "achievement" ^ is the central fact of human association, (bid- dings was closer to the truth, but seriously limited his explanation *"The Problem of Sociology," in the Annals of the American Academy, VI (1895), 412-23; see especially p. 417, note. ^Principles of Sociology, 1876, I, chap, i, "Super-organic Evolution." ^Pure Sociology, chap, iii, "The Subject-Matter of Sociology." 236 THE FUNCTION OF SOCIALIZATION IN SOCIAL EVOLUTION of the operation of the social forces when in his earlier writings he confined his attention too closely to the "consciousness of kind." ^ Small, however, concentrated his analysis upon the main aspect of human evolution in his clear and thorough description of the con- cept "the social process." * We may point out here that while the social process is the form, socialization is the product of human association. In the actual analysis of socialization individual sociologists have also tended to overestimate certain aspects of socialization to the exclusion of others. Socialization of the person is not merely on the cognitive side (Ward°) ; nor on the affective side (Ross^° and Giddings^^) ; nor on the volitional side (Ward^^) ; but is the all- round development of all these aspects of the self in the free and full participation of the person in social thought, social sentiment, and social action. With this explanation of the primary and secondary purposes of the thesis we close our study. Adequate recognition of the scope and. play of socialization in social evolution should have a part in the quickening of social thinking and in the enlightening of social action. In conclusion, we may restate the thesis and the argument. The socialization of the person consists in his all-round participation in the thinking, the feeling, and the activities of the group. In '"The central doctrine of this book is that the consciousness of kind distinguishes social from non-social phenomena, and is the principal cause of social conduct." — Principles of Sociology, 1896, Preface, p. ix. ^General Sociology, Parts V-IX, pp. 325-729. ^Supra, p. 185. iii'The socializing process is that growth in the closeness and extent of similarity which multiplies sympathies, promotes co-operations, and makes for harmony among men." — Foundations of Sociology, 1905, p. 262. ^i"The process of getting acquainted with one another, of establishing sympathies and friendships, of learning to enjoy association, and of discov- ering how to co-operate with one another in our work, we may call social- ization." — Inductive Sociology, 1901, p. 59. ^^"Socialization is conscious, intentional, wished for, and welcomed telic action, not of the individual as such, but of those individuals into whose hands society, by whatever means, intrusts the conduct of its affairs." — Pure Sociology, p. 547.