He who is unable to
live in society,
or who has no need because he is
sufficient to himself, must be either
a beast or a god.
The raw material provided in the last chapter can already serve for building a model to explain some political structures. But at this stage the model would be rudimentary and, beyond generalizations of culture-universal nature, would not explain the political varieties which result as different phenomena combine. For example, on one hand, man's drive for self-preservation and satisfaction of his physiological needs and, on the other, his search for challenge, combined with the domination drive of some and the submissiveness of others, may account for political hierarchy. But with only our present premises, it would be difficult to explain, for instance, political continuity and change, or the reason some human groups seem to draw inspiration from Mill for their political organization while others are more influenced by Hobbes. In other words, we need additional dimensions beyond the basic drives to explain the diversified political behaviors, processes and institutions and to show reasons for their differences and similarities.
Discussing the drives which qualify man as a political animal, and looking at the phenomena from the individual's point of view, we noticed that the group is our basic term of reference for examining man. Man's association with his fellows. to satisfy his physiological, psychological and sociological needs can be conceived only within the group. Thus, for the additional dimensions we will look more closely at man in his elemental context, the group.
The group interests us not only because it is the basic entity of human interaction, but also because its study may help us overcome the difficulty mentioned in the first chapter, of examining the individual's behavior out of its group context, in isolation, without distorting it. Of course, even the group, were it consciously to become a guinea pig for study and analysis, might distort the results. But if we could consider groups without interference and manipulation, they could help us to observe behavioral patterns, such as the drive for power and its conversion into authority, which cannot otherwise be isolated individually. We may compare this process to that used in physics or biology where, because the basic element is not attainable, separable or visible through the media available, its conglomerate is studied for information about its components. Of course, the analogy should not be stretched too far. The human group both influences and is influenced by the behavior of its members.
I. The Individual and the Group
Indeed, keeping a balanced view of the roles of both the individual and the group is a constant problem in social and behavioral studies. Through the ages and with quite diversified philosophies, some, including Plato, Aristotle, St. Thomas Aquinas, Marsilio of Padua, Sir Thomas More, Hobbes, Hegel and Bosanquet, to name a few, have maintained that man makes sense only in relation to the group. Others, as diversified as Diogenes or Seneca in ancient times and Locke, Kant, Bentham and Mill more recently, have seen the individual and his behavior as the gist of human existence and social life.
The position of each of these thinkers and his respective philosophy should obviously be examined in the context of his time and environment, as should those of different contemporary schools. Thus, for example, while psychologists, such as those of the Gestalt school, have moved towards group theory in reaction to the Freudian emphasis on the individual, political scientists have tried to avoid the atomist liberalism of the nineteenth century which emphasized individuals in their singularity in opposition to the state as a political entity. Moving also away from the prevailing structured, static and institutional approach of their discipline, some twentieth-century political scientists came to consider the group the main dynamic entity which both molds the socialized individuals and structures the institutions. These theoretical approaches fluctuate with the times. But in general, in a civilization where the tendency towards specialization in knowledge and uniformity in outlook seems to be the trend, where the average individual is average because he is diluted in the masses, and where the motor personality can hardly function individually but needs group support, it is only natural that the focus turn to the group.
Yet, while the study and analysis of groups, their fermentations and dynamics will answer many questions, it may not answer all of them. It would be unrealistic to espouse total group theory for political analysis. The group is not an amorphous entity. It is made up of components which, in the last analysis, are individuals. In the words of Latham:
Groups exist for the individuals to whom they belong; by his membership in them the individual fulfills personal values and felt needs ....Recognition of the place and role of the individual in group associations avoids the error of supposing that political processes move by a blind voluntarism in a Schopenhaueresque world .... the whole structure of society is associational; neither disjected nor congealed, it is not a multiplicity of discontinuous persons, nor yet a solid fusion of dissolved components.
Going further, we may see individuals at times playing roles which surpass group identification and influence the course of action of the group or of many groups. Some poets, philosophers, heroes and leaders have been lone riders, so to speak, remaining aloof from the group or using groups to ascend toward their ideals and goals. Sometimes they have become the focus of reference or of crystallization for groups which have gravitated around them without integrating them. The motor personality may influence the group without necessarily heading a movement. He may lead only in thought, without the charismatic and other qualities of a militant leader. Rousseau was neither a leader nor a hero, but what he said--in itself not a very practical theory for social organization--had great impact on the future course of France. Marx was another such motor personality.
Such associations may occur only in certain periods of the individual's lifetime and in certain circumstances of group life. But the point is that they can occur. Personalities like Caesar, Joan of Arc or de Gaulle did not exactly fit any particular group. In examining heroic leadership, Hoffman says:
The heroic leader is, with reference to "routine authority", the outsider in two significant ways. He tends to be a man who has not played the game, either because he has had little contact with the political arena (an indispensable quality when the crisis that brings him to power amounts to the collapse, and not merely the stalemate of the regular regime) or, if he has been in it, because he has shown impatience with the rituals and the rules.
Of course, this kind of personality does not descend among the group out of the blue. He himself has obviously been socialized. But we mention the impact of such a personality on the group as an extreme case of the possible role of the group components. We are distinguishing between the individual's socialization and his group identification for social action. Even empirical studies and experiments directed at group pressure for conformity have had to distinguish between "naive" and "independent" subjects.
Those within the group who are more instruments than instrumental constitute, by conforming and behaving predictably, the group's identifiable texture. Some groups provide little possibility or room for motor personalities to blossom--such as folk societies, with their strict structures and limited environmental potentials, which we shall examine later. We must not, however, lose sight of the trees while looking at the forest. At the practical level of political science, after the analysis of group dynamics, we need to know the role and impact of the individuals making up the group. Even in its collectivity, the group, as Latham said, consists of components which define its character. The candidate who knows who the influential party leaders are, or the employer who knows which union workers to contact, can better influence the group with which he deals. And each group and its components have particular characteristics. A demagogue can use a mob but may be considered a nuisance if he starts haranguing the public at a movie theater. The successful political practitioner knows which group to use in what circumstances and how to use it. A Lenin or a Hitler can do to a crowd what only a few can. And not only do such men create an impact which lasts beyond the life of the crowd, but they manage to manipulate the crowd without being carried away by it.
II. Group Association
The group's nature, size, context, cohesion, duration and environmental circumstances all shape its interaction with its components. At the minimum extreme of some of these factors, the group may not show much groupness. The wearers of shoe size 8, those in the $20,000 annual income bracket, or those 35 years old have common characteristics but are not always conscious of their groupness. For the political analyst, however, they may constitute a categorized group worthy of consideration. Members of a categorized group may seek each other out when circumstances make them conscious of their common identity.
Consciousness of groupness does not necessarily imply proximity and vice versa. VFW members do not need a convention to react in a similar manner to an issue, while a movie audience may include members of some categorized groups who may not acknowledge each other. The movie audience is an aggregate whose individual components are at the theater for a purpose independent of their coincidental togetherness. Physical nearness, however, is the particular characteristic of the aggregate which is felt by its individual components. An extreme illustration of it would be the panic felt if fire broke out in the theater. Without going to that extreme, we can say that the reaction of the members of the audience to what is being projected on the screen can be influenced by the aggregate around them. If the viewer watches the same program on TV alone without the surrounding charge of the crowd, he may receive a different stimulus from the movie. We distinguish two charges here: that of the group and that of the exposure to a program. The movie watchers, whether at the theatre or at home, are categorized groups because of their exposure to a given program rather than who they are. True, certain kinds of people watch certain kinds of movies. But their common characteristics develop also because of their previous experiences. Those with higher education may watch scientific programs more than others because in college they were exposed to science. Beyond long lasting effects, exposure can produce immediate group dynamics. The classic case of Orson Welles' radio adaptation of H. G. Wells' novel, The War of the Worlds, on October 30, 1938, over CBS was one occasion when the charge of exposure was so great that the radio listeners took to the streets. The exposure to a particular stimulus thus created a spontaneous group and the charge of the two triggered a mob.
A mob can carry its components away. It behaves as an organism, acting and reacting as such. "It" breaks windows, while many of its components as individuals, and maybe even the one who hurled the stone at the window, would not otherwise throw stones. A mob, while behaving as an organism, may not follow a set pattern organically--although it may, in its short-term existence, produce detectable patterns. This fact makes a mob, under favorable circumstances, vulnerable to manipulations which can organize it as a tool for a purpose--often political.
Examining the factors so far elaborated we may find other variations of group associations. Thus, the more an assembly of individuals gathered as a short-term group follows an organized pattern of behavior for a purpose, such as a picket of strikers or a demonstration for a political issue, the less it can be qualified as a mob. The extreme of such organization is a parading army. If the picket or demonstration turns into a mob, it is that it had the germs and characteristics of a mob. It must have been inadequately organized to cope with all possible circumstances, its declared purpose must have been only partially adhered to, and it must have been prone to manipulation.
A short-term assembly of individuals organized for a particular purpose, whether a picket or a demonstration, should, in the last analysis, be considered as part and extension of a long-term constituted group which is organic--in the sense that it is organized--and not coincidental or spontaneous. The main characteristic of an organic group is consciousness of its groupness. An organic group may be constituted, either through intentional and voluntary association of its members as are pressure groups, lobbies or humanitarian foundations, or it may be a circumstantial converging association like a legislative body, where the members do not seek each other out but still end up in a constituted group. Further along the line we may identify organic groups like folk societies and primeval tribes, which can be labeled immanent in that they may not have come together voluntarily. One is born in one's own family.
Group associations imply different degrees of involvement by the members and different attitudes and behaviors on their part towards the group and other group members. In sociology a distinction has been made between primary groups and secondary groups. The distinction is based on the nature and structure of the groups. The members of a primary group are closely associated in an intimate, face-to-face and durable environment. Cooley, who developed the idea of primary groups, conceived of them in the context of family, playground and neighborhood. Secondary groups are defined as larger, more impersonal social bodies with which. the individual establishes formal relationships. Cooley attributed to the primary group an ideal-molding character which "in its most general form... is that of a moral whole or community wherein individual minds are merged and the higher capacities of the members find total and adequate expression." He recognized, however, that they did not realize ideal conditions. He deplored .that "in our own life the intimacy of the neighborhood has been broken up by the growth of an intricate mesh of wider contacts which leaves us strangers to people who live in the same house." Kingsley Davis, who developed further the concept of the primary group, also recognized that primary relationships do not exist in concrete forms and that in actual groups of a close and intimate kind, characteristics contrary to those attributed to primary groups may exist. He noted, for example, that:
Neighborhood and family control is very complete control, and the individual often wishes to escape it by getting into the anonymous and more impersonal life of a larger setting such as a big city. The truth is that such actual groups embody only imperfectly the primary relationship. They demand a great deal of loyalty and they have an element of status, of institutionalization, in them which makes them something less than spontaneous and free.
In other words, the types of relationships attributed to primary groups are neither confined to, nor necessarily identifiable with such groups as family and neighborhood.
Indeed, within the more impersonal and segmented structure of what is sociologically termed a secondary group, i.e., the complex industrial society where people commit themselves to the larger group along the lines of the division of labor for achieving personal and social goals, smaller groups of . a primary-group nature may form. The worker in a factory, the secretary in a bureaucratic organization, and the salesman in a department store may soon find themselves incorporated into a group with the traits of a primary group. Further, with their superiors or subordinates they may develop relations beyond the impersonal segmentation of a secondary group. In such circumstances the specific characteristics of primary relationships may become relative. With greater need for solidarity and mutual affection, the required duration of intimate, face-to-face contact to establish primary relations may become considerably shorter than in the classic family situation.
The classification of groups into primary and secondary leaves us with certain ambiguities. The characteristics attributed to each category do not necessarily coincide with it. In the interpersonal relations of members of different groups we may find both primary and secondary dimensions. Yet for our political analysis we need a clearer idea of the nature of these relations. Let us, therefore, devise a model based on the nature of the behavior of the group members and their inter-personal relations in different group contexts, rather than on the structure and nature of the groups. Obviously, some behaviors and relations are likely to recur more in certain types of groups than in others. But our purpose is to take the nature of behavior and interpersonal relations of group members as our subject--rather than to treat the group as the subject and the pattern of its members' behavior as the object.
III. Affectional and Functional Relations
In discussing groups as primary and secondary, we noticed that the interpersonal relations and attitudes of group members could fall into two general categories. Those relations such as love, sympathy, empathy, intimacy, resentment or hate which are based on feelings, sentiments, emotions and affections. In a sense, at least materially, they are nonrational. And those that are the more impersonal associations, which further specific goals, are largely functional in their social context (e.g., negotiating with a dealer, or doing a job for pay). From the point of view of personal and/ or social ends, they have a rationale. We may thus conceive of a range of behavior from the emotional to the rational. Of course, for our political analysis we may draw more heavily on certain sectors of this spectrum.
As we pointed out in the last chapter, man's association with his fellow men to satisfy his basic needs develops according to physiological, psychological, and sociological dimensions which interact in varying degrees. Not only does man have natural tendencies to search for contact-comfort and to be gregarious, but one of his physiological needs, namely sex, calls for companionship. Mating, combined with the long weaning and rearing period of children, can cause group members to develop relations which cannot be directly explained by the rationales of material satisfaction. One may alienate or even kill one's mate in jealousy or parents may risk their lives to save their child. These we may call affectional relations. By this term we imply a continuous pattern. In other words, for our socio-political analysis we need not be concerned with sporadic "emotions." They belong more to psychological studies-that is, emotional relations in their microcosmic dimension. For example, one may feel anger, disgust or even hatred toward his friend or parents in a particular situation, or may momentarily admire his enemy. As long as these emotions remain isolated, they may not change the general, long-term positive or negative pattern of affectional relations. Short-term fluctuations of emotions and sentiments indeed influence and shape affectional relations, but their spontaneity and evanescence do not always reflect social phenomena; if they do, they become our concern.
As our examples imply, affectional relations are not meant only to connote positive affections but to cover all human social-attitudinal dimensions not directly materially oriented, whether positive or negative. It is their omnipresent, nonrational intensity that identifies them as affectional. As we saw in the last chapter, both attachments and interpersonal tensions are stronger within the closer circle of relations because of the conflicting tendencies: 1) to draw one's satisfactions from those closely related, and 2) to want freedom from their confinement.
Relations within the group for the satisfaction of material needs can be identified as functional relations. These, in our terminology, are social relations which, while more impersonal and businesslike, coexist with affectional relations and, in the last analysis, serve as a breeding ground for them. The term is intended to connote a set of arrangements which, although impersonal, are interpersonal and transactional. In their social context they do not go as far as the extreme of the individual's purely selfish state-of-nature rationale for the direct satisfaction of his material needs, nor do they reach the ideal mechanical rationale for a "perfect social order" which could abstract human nature and feelings. By way of illustration, at the extreme of state-of-nature rationale, we may say that it would be rational on the part of a hungry individual to grab the bread displayed in the bakery and eat it without paying for it. But if this act, without being the norm, were repeated, we would revert to the state of nature where there would be no bread, no baker and no group. Or at the extreme of ideal mechanical rationale we may conceive of a perfect order which could permanently supply vitamins, proteins and nutrients into the body, eradicating hunger from man's organism and rendering him a rational robot without conscious dependence on his fellow men, programmed for ideal efficiency in his tasks without discriminatory feelings. If drawn to these extremes our term "functional relations," will lose its reference to material social realities and arrangements in the context of present human social potentials. In this social context certain functions must be performed before the bread can reach the hungry man's mouth, and the man should be hungry in order that certain social functions be fulfilled. For one thing, the hungry man has to "pay" for the food, which means that, like the baker who has baked the bread, he has to contribute his share of work to the society, thus fulfilling a function within the group. The Bible says, "if any would not work, neither should he eat," and the 1936 Soviet Constitution said, "He who does not work, neither shall he eat!"
Common Grounds of Affectional and Functional Relations
But functional relations vary under different circumstances. The baker may give the hungry man free bread because they are relatives or friends, or he may do so in the name of humanity. Here, some affectional elements influence the functional relations. Inversely, the baker may coldly calculate the hungry man's need for bread and make a demand on him which does not correspond to the group's standards for a baker, but which does contribute, in the baker's rationale, to his material satisfaction. In this situation the baker's functional behavior departs from the human affectional context and tends towards the state-of-nature rationale of "every man for himself."
For purposes of distinction, the terms "affectional" and "functional" relations are better identifiable when each approaches its non-social extreme: short-term emotional behavior on the affectional side, and either the state-of-nature or the ideal mechanical rationale on the functional side (see Fig. 3.01).
While both the state of nature rationale of the Hobbesian pre-Leviathian type and the mechanical ideal rationale of the Huxleyan Brave New World type are placed on the same side of our spectrum, they are themselves opposites. The first implies total lack of integration, the other total integration, denying any personality to the individual. On the whole, social life becomes intolerable as we approach the extreme of emotional fluctuations or the rationale of the state of nature or of mechanically perfect organization. The interpenetrating affectional and functional relations in the middle of our spectrum cover the area where group life and social organization are possible. The emphasis on the interpenetration of the affectional and the functional relations shifts depending on the particular needs of a given social organization. For example, love is not always coupled with parenthood. In 1935 Margaret Mead researched the Mundugumor people of New Guinea who displayed no parental love because material abundance reduced the need for such affectional relationships supporting functional interdependence. On the other side of the same coin, Colin M. Turnbull reports that the Ik people, deprived of the resources of their nomadic life in Uganda, led a near starvation subsistence which reduced their affectional ties to the point that a mother was relieved if her child was carried away by a predator. Since no functional ties could be developed, affectional ties diminished. The relationships among members of a nuclear family--between wife and husband or parents and children--are not only affectional, based on a community of feelings and sentiments, but also subject to social rules, whether traditional or institutional. At any level of social evolution--whether among the Trobriand Islanders or in an industrial society--familial affectional ties are intertwined with such relationships as marriage and inheritance, regulated by functional norms. Similarly, institutional arrangements of a functional nature bear the imprint of man's affectional tendencies. Affectional relationships develop among those functionally in contact and related: the employer and the employee, the superior and the subordinate, the producer and the consumer.
Of course, with more contact, affectional relationships grow. Contact means not only the physical sharing of time and space, but also the possibility of communication and sharing of values and standards. Thus, the fewer similarities among those functionally in contact, the smaller the affectional dimension of their relationship, approaching the mechanical or state-of-nature rationale. The relationship between officials of the Egyptian pharaohs and their slaves, the colonial administrators and the indigenous Coolies, the Nazis and their forced laborers were generally at the functional extreme, approaching the state-of-nature and mechanical rationales, with little room for the laborers' dignity in the masters' material calculations. Inversely, common values and standards may impregnate functional relationships where physical, spatial and temporal contacts are minimal. Thus, at a given level of social development, independent of personal contacts, the employer may provide sick leave for his employee, whereas from a material rationale he could dismiss and replace him. In such a case affectional relations are injected into the functional, reflecting standards of social justice. We must hasten to add, however, that such cases of uncoerced affectional feelings seldom arise. They become generally accepted standards as a result of social conflicts and struggles, which belong to the functional domain.
Extending our model, we may also conceive of affectional relations growing out of other kinds of closeness, such as feelings of belonging to the same culture, ethnic group, race or religion. Such, for example, is the sense of solidarity between the Americans and Australians based on their presumed Anglo-Saxon background, as compared to the relations between Japan and the U.S.A. which, though more extensive, are at this stage more functional. The time factor should, of course, be borne in mind. The nature of these relations may well change over a long period of contact.
Similarly, distant affectional and functional relations may be more pronounced in different spheres and under different circumstances. The relationship of a North Dakota farmer with a Detroit auto worker is indirectly functional as it concerns their professional roles within the American division of labor. But, as American citizens faced with an international conflict, they may develop indirectly affectional relations. For example, without knowing him personally, one of them may learn of the other as a prisoner of war and emphathize with him. As our various illustrations and examples show, affectional and functional dimensions are present in interpersonal relations, as well as in the feelings, attitudes and behavior of group members towards part of the group or the group as a whole. From microgroup to macrogroup, we may speak of such affectional relations as paternal love, friendship, comradeship, esprit de corps, sympathy and, further, faith, belief and patriotism. The latter categories demonstrate the nonrational, affectional ties between group members and the group as a whole on the basis of abstract religious, ethnic or territorial identifications. We shall discuss these dimensions in more detail later. On the functional side, we can also lay out a range of institutions from the microgroup to the macrogroup, from marriage, heritage, adoption and other forms of contracts, to all the social and political institutions, like business, industry, bureaucracy, church and state.
A further look at our examples will reveal how affectional relations justify functional structures, as love and companionship do for the institution of marriage, or faith does for the church. Inversely, functionally constituted institutions develop affectional dimensions, such as the professional solidarity and comradeship among small groups of workers in an industry or among soldiers in an army, or patriotic feelings in a state as it grows into nationhood. We may also notice briefly, at this stage, that the coexistence of affectional and functional relations and the possibilities of converting one into the other are instrumental in the political structure of the group and the society. This is the aspect of our model which directly interests us and calls for further inquiry into the political texture-of groups of different sizes and natures in time and space.
IV. Size and Nature of Groups
In the.preceding pages we referred to a variety of groups within which we could detect different combinations of affectional and functional relations. These combinations are both cause and effect of the group's characteristics. The study of these characteristics can shed light on the development and evolution of political behaviors, processes and institutions permitting us to see whether human groups share common denominators and general patterns which could be used for our study. Is there any similarity of social structure between the present-day tribes of Australian Aborigines and the inhabitants of Helsinki? If there are differences, how have they come about? After all, according to the description Tacitus gives of the Fenni, the ancestors of the population of Helsinki, their social and political system was not much more elaborate than that of the present Australian Aborigines; nor for that matter were those of other German tribes as compared to contemporary primeval tribes. Indeed, many parallels can be drawn between the mores, rituals, laws, beliefs, traditions and social structures of ancient tribes, ancestors of modern industrialized urban men, and the still existing or recently extinct primeval men. Can we explain the evolution of some groups and the stagnation of others? Can we, despite the gaps, find common traits which will bring some understanding of social structures and political behavior? Different anthropological schools offer various theories but the overall picture of their approaches to the process of development in human groups is as yet not conclusive. Indeed, it would be unrealistic to try to establish a set of formulae of cultural regularities by which both the evolution of Batavia into present-day Holland and that of ancient Sumer into modern Iraq could, without exception, be mathematically explained.
Particular conjunctures are of great significance in the history of mankind, making universal generalizations difficult. People of the same stock in similar environments undergo different sequences of events creating their unique historical patterns. The prevalence of a given belief at a given time, the existence of a certain leader at a given conjuncture, the juxtaposition of neighboring factors in a given setting, exceptional natural bounties or calamities, to mention a few, are among possibilities which may make similar people in similar environments look different (not to speak of the difficulty in identifying "similar people" and "similar environments"). We will, then, without any pretentions at elaborating universal formulae, try to see whether anthropological and sociological studies can provide us with some clues as to the nature of human groups which can aid us in our study of man's political behavior.
The group, of course, is not stagnant; thus, in order to study man within his group we have to visualize its fermentations and dynamics in time and space. This qualification of man and his group is crucial to understanding political phenomena. Man in isolation or a group in abstraction, independent of spatial or temporal dimensions, will give us only distorted images. The political thinker and analyst need the behavioral continuum within the environment to make sense of observed phenomena. In that continuum, to paraphrase Hegel and Sartre, the past and the seed of the future are present.
V. Family and Kinship, Clan and Tribe
Researchers and historians from Thucydides and Ssu-ma Ch'ien to our modern anthropologists and sociologists seem to agree on the clannish and familial texture of early human groups and its extension into modern times. Even at our present social evolution, group members identify themselves through their lineage or kinship. In the primeval group the relationship between the social and political structures and clan and family ties is more obvious and easier to trace. We know from the historical accounts and anthropological studies that, for example, lineage and kinship serve as vehicles for passage of rights and status within the group. We can therefore gain insight by examining primeval groups.
At the primeval stage we may conceive of groups as small as a nuclear family, i.e., a male and female and their immediate progeniture, or small extended families composed of immediate generations, their mates and progeniture, with limited environmental possibilities permitting the development of intricate social organizations. Such groups may remain primeval because scarce and sparse subsistence possibilities require constant splitting of the groups into self-sufficient nuclear units. Unless they eventually grow into bigger, more complex and stable entities, they will present a life pattern showing little social specialization wherein political factors can be distinguished from other aspects of group life. This does not mean, however, that political structure is totally absent. Indeed, even within such a group the combination of affectional and functional relations will establish the roles and responsibilities of the members. For example, patriarchal or matriarchal structures may provide the decision-making machineries.
Where conditions permit it in terms of economy or require it in terms of security, the group may remain together and grow, either in one locale or through migration. As their number increases, group members will identify more with those closer to them than with others. Association into a closer circle of persons in the course of socialization will permit the group member to identify himself within a subgroup. The subgroup may be an extended family, itself the offshoot of a nuclear family with segmentary unilineal system of lineage--matrilineal or patrilineal--or it may be of a kinship nature along transient, bilateral, consanguine family patterns. Kinship, however, does not always remain at the stage of blood relationship and may become a social artifact. Kinship terms and behavior may develop among persons with no known genealogical relationship but close social contact. This segmental closeness and kinship serve as the social and political basis of identification in the form of a clan within a larger group.
The growth in size may not necessarily be accompanied by a diversification of functions. The division of labor may remain simple with functions distinguished only along the sex and age lines--i.e., a child does what every other child does, and once mature does what every other woman or man is expected to do. Durkheim identified such clan-base groups as
segmental in order to indicate their formation by the repetition of Zike aggregates in them, analogous to the rings of an earthworm, and we say of this elementary aggregate that it is a clan, because this word well expresses its mixed nature, at once familial and political.
This stage of group development may be passing or lasting, depending on such factors as ecological conditions, contact with other groups and environments, population growth and density. The group may retain a subsistence economy, as have many primeval folk societies recently studied. At this level, the economic independence of the group's various clans and family units on the one hand, and the integrated dependence of the individuals on their family and the clan on the other hand, serve as premises for the group's social structure. A brief examination of the affectional and functional dimensions which provide for and regulate the basic drives of clan members under such conditions will further our political analysis.
In the clan, familial and kinship identifications which are immanent, affectionally speaking, are converted into functional instruments to such an extent that the only premise of the individual's affectional ties is his clan as a whole, and his relations with other members of the clan and other clans are left to the functional arrangements provided by the clan's rules. The clan regulates even such institutions as marriage, allowing little leeway for personal choice of mate. In the words of Redfield:
On the whole, zee many think of the family among folk peoples as made up of persons consanguinely connected. Marriage is, in comparison with what tae in our society directly experience, an incident in the life of the individual who is born, brought up, and dies within his blood kinsmen. In such a society romantic love can hardly be elevated to a major principle.
Sexual union may also serve as a tool for intergroup relations. Thus, according to Sahlins:
Sexual attraction remains a determinant of human sociability. But it has become subordinated to the search for food, to economics. A most significant advance of early cultural society was the strict repression and canalization of sex, through the incest tabu, in favor of the expansion of kinship, and thus mutual aid relations. Primate sexuality is utilized in human society to reinforce bonds of economic and to a lesser extent, defensive alliance.
The tight sense of belonging in such a group reduces the "individuality" of the group members. A member will be part not only of a group identifiable in a given place or time or for a specific purpose, but also of a continuum of kinship constellation changing little its way of life from one generation to another. Life does not follow a pattern of biological causality, but a pattern of behavior handed down by successive generations--a tradition. Asking the reason for a given rite or ceremony, anthropologists and sociologists may often have been answered by the clansman that things are done that way because the ancestors did them that way.
The subsistence economy and integrated kinship structure do not lend themselves to elaborate, long-term, intra-clan power conflicts, as they would constitute a contradiction in terms, disintegrating the basic unity required for a clan to cohere. Whatever distinction of right, property and status exist are part and parcel of the kinship ties regulated through deep-rooted customs and beliefs. A subsistence economy cannot permit much diversified and complex stratification. The phenonomen is not particular to primeval groups. Even subsistence economics involving groups of people who have previously belonged to complex urban civilizations tend to reduce their power structures to a bare minimum.
Excitement and challenge drives can be expressed through the interaction of the whole group with its environing factors, including war expeditions which may involve not only the warriors or the act of war, but long and complex preparations and rituals requiring every member to participate. As for the quest for the unknown, it will be omnipresent in the forces of nature and will be of direct concern to the group's survival. It will need to be explained, appeased or invoked for help and for justification of rules of conduct. Tradition and belief merge and emerge as the manifestations of group relationship to the unknown. In the words of Redfield, "Gaining a livelihood takes support from religions, and the .relations of men to men are justified in the conceptions held of the supernatural world or in some other aspect of the culture." The caprices of nature call for magic rituals. Malinowski tells us of the islanders who have elaborate rituals for their fishing expeditions on the open sea but not for fishing in the inland lagoon where hazards are few. The complexities of the rituals in relation to the supernatural depend on the group's possibilities in its interaction with the environment. Thus, for example, the Arctic Eskimos devote relatively less time and elaboration to supernaturalism because the taxing conditions of their environment demand full employment of both individual and group resources simply for survival. In other words, while the drive to relate to the supernatural is universal, and while at the primeval stage it may constitute the basic cohesive fabric of the human group, rituals and exercises connected with it are not necessarily most elaborate at the primeval level. They may, on the contrary, become more complex as the group develops toward a certain stage of "civilization." The shaman or the chief who may have been given his position according to some traditional belief (God, heaven or the spirit of the ancestors), may find few possibilities or little point in expanding his power (which, under certain circumstances, may already be total) in a subsistence economy which does not yield appreciable surplus. Indeed, as we shall see later, the nature of the economy is among the major factors contributing to the stratification and complex political organization of the group and to the elaboration of rituals.
Finally, in the integrated clan situation where man's physiological needs are regulated through functional relationships and his affectional relationships are immanent and undistinguishable from the group, no manifestly identifiable, distinct political institutions regulate the sociological needs of group members. Liberty, order and justice are those of the clan: "A member belongs to the clan, he is not his own, if he is wronged they will right him; if he does wrong the responsibility is shared by them." Hoebel tells us, for example, of the Eskimo arrangements whereby a deviant who repeatedly breaches the tribe's rules is liquidated by an executioner appointed by the group.
Kinship and clan characteristics gain particular significance for our analysis as they develop into more politico-economic tribal phenomena. While kinship and clan serve generally as the cornerstones of tribal structures, tribal arrangements can in turn provide bases for many of the more complex political realities in both traditional and modern societies; for, where politics is the authoritative allocation of values, the tribe is an appropriate context for understanding it.
As a term, "tribe" encompasses social, political and economic attribution, distribution and retribution. (The Latin origins of tribe, tribute, attribute, distribute and retribute are tribus and tribuere, meaning "lot" and "allotment.") The identification of a tribe and its members assigns them their rights and obligations vis-`a-vis themselves and other tribes. The tribal distinctions recognize, beyond kinship and clan, the economic spheres --in the primeval sense, that is, including not only families and clans but their dependencies, such as slaves or adopted strangers, and in most cases their territories. Tribal arrangements permit distribution of tasks as well as attribution of the harvest (including such products as the booty in a raid or the spoils of war). Tribal organization is patterned on the affectional functional dimension of group relations. The individual members of the tribe are thus provided with identity and material security, both of which will, of course, claim the member's allegiance and loyalty. The tribal constellation of identity, security, allegiance and loyalty constitutes a whole for political and economic organization. Because of its high potentials for fusing the affectional and the functional, the tribe and the characteristics it engenders survive even when the society develops into more complex and functionally organized economic and political entities.
Even though we may not refer to them specifically, the clannish and tribal dimensions of group organization will be reflected in our later discussions and should be present in the reader's mind, not only when we examine communal and social patterns or traditional cultures, but also when we deal with modern societies and political institutions. The Watergate case--notably the emphasis of some presidential aides on loyalty, and the efforts at the highest executive levels to provide assistance and funds for the legal defense and family support of the Watergate burglars--showed to what extent the constellation of identity, security, allegiance and loyalty can counterbalance--or rather counter--institutions based on strictly functional, legal and political premises.
VI. From Simpler to More Complex Groups
Our study of the primeval group so far has covered certain basic social arrangements which, in the absence of elaborate political structures, regulate group life. The affectional and functional relationships among members merge to make the primeval group an immanent whole, not the result of a contractual association or a pact as Hobbes, Rousseau and Locke conceived it. A glance at more complex, politically organized societies makes us realize that the phenomena discussed in the context of primeval groups, although sometimes differently manifested, are at the origin of many modern social arrangements and influence our political behavior, processes and institutions.
In many modern systems, lineage and kinship do not seem sufficient bases for transference of position and status. Yet, hereditary monarchies aside, lineage is still the recognized channel for wealth through heritage (even i.^. socialist political systems striving for communism). Where wealth can buy rights and privileges, those rights and privileges may be indirectly transferred along with the bequest of wealth. As for position or status, even where inheritance is not a recognized channel for their. transfer, the process of socialization within the family or the clan helps maintain an appreciable degree of continuity in social class, occupation, position and status from one generation to another.
Regarding tradition, we may point out that in their everyday life, many still justify behaving as they do for the same reason that the Aborigines of Central Australia gave Strehlow, because their forefathers acted that way. Not only do our fathers' deeds influence our feasts, ceremonies and private behavior, but they also seem to influence our political behavior, such as party affiliation.
Turning to religion and myth, we can hardly make our point better than to invoke Malinowski's words:
Myth is to the savage what, to a fully believing Christian, is the Biblical story of Creation, of the Fall, of the Redemption by Christ's Sacrifice on the Cross. As our sacred story lives in our ritual, in our morality, as it governs our faith and controls our conduct, even so does his myth for the savage.
Thus, certain phenomena are common to group life, at both the primeval and complex modern urban levels. While at the primeval level we can see that such phenomena as lineage, kinship and clan bonds, tradition and belief constitute enough of a social fabric for the group's rudimentary and simple political needs, we will have to examine them in the context of differentiated and stratified groups to see whether, in the process of development, the nature and role of these phenomena are altered and whether new structures evolve to meet new social conditions.
In the last sections we outlined a general pattern of group structure which, to be sure, had its variables. But on the basis of archeological, anthropological, historical and sociological studies, our general pattern is broadly applicable to the social structures of early bands of hunters and food gatherers as well as those of primeval groups which have survived to our day with a subsistence economy. Our model can cover some 30,000 years--from the early Cro-Magnons in the valley of Vezere in France to the ancestors of the ancient Greeks. Thucydides describes the early settlements in the Greek peninsula in these terms:
There was no commerce, and they [the Greeks] could not safely hold intercourse with one another by land or sea. The several peoples cultivated their own soil just enough to obtain a subsistence from it. But they had no accumulations of wealth and did not plant the ground; partly because they had no walls.
From this description let us retain certain factors which will be useful for our later analysis, namely the facts that in their subsistence economy they had no exchange, they did not plant their land, had no accumulation of wealth and had no walls.
There is evidence of a turning point in the history of man starting sometime between twelve thousand and five thousand years back--the beginning of "civilization." Sometime around then the general patterns suggested in the last section for group structures at the subsistence level of economy became inadequate to explain more intricate social phenomena. According to our present archeological knowledge, in at least four areas of the earth--notably the valleys of the Nile in Egypt, the Euphrates and Tigris in Mesopotamia, the Indus in India and the Yellow River in China--man finally evolved from food-gatherer and hunter into farmer and shepherd.
The evolution implies the domestication of food sources. But is also implies the need for more elaborate social structures, as exchange and accumulation of stock will require specialization. In other words, it needs a cumulative economy. We use the term "cumulative economy" rather than "surplus economy" because the simple fact of going beyond subsistence and producing surplus is not sufficient for social evolution. Malinowski speaks of the Trobriand Islanders who, before the possibility of exchange arose, were letting their surplus production rot unconsumed. Further, while demographic growth influences the development of complex social and political structures, the determinant factor for such development seems to be the nature of the group's economy. Thus, regarding the Logi and Nuer tribes of Africa, which may attain units of 45,000 members divided into clans, subclans and lineages without elaborate political structures, we are told:
Theirs is mainly a subsistence economy with a rudimentary differentiation of productive labour and with no machinery for the accumulation of wealth in the form of commercial or industrial capital. If wealth is accumulated it takes the form of consumption goods and amenities or is used for the support of additional dependents. Hence it tends to be rapidly dissipated again and does not give rise to permanent class divisions.
Elsewhere, Redfield tells us: "Within the ideal folk society members are bound by religious and kinship ties, and there is no place for the motive of commercial gain. There is no money and nothing is measured by any such common denominator of value."
In its early stages a cumulative economy may be a permanent village-farming settlement. But even before "urbanization," this cumulative economy must provide for collection, storage, distribution and exchange of the means of livelihood for the group members and, must make an exchangeable and convertible surplus possible. The process will no longer be hand-to-mouth.
Functional Social Differentiation
The arrangements for a cumulative economy require specialization, notably for the group's material and social organization and for control of its surplus. On the way to "civilization," this social organization liberates some of the labor force from direct food-producing tasks and permits the development of arts and crafts. The released productive forces are used for building, irrigation projects, tool production, and other social functions. Differentiation of labor and exchange of the diversified products require social frames of reference making intercourse feasible. The early Sumerians established commercial and banking practices, fixed prices and wages by law, standardized weights and measures and codified civil law in writing. The implementation of these social functions require specialization and control. Among these is the specialization to control. In order to make exchange and convertibility of products and services possible, value judgments--conscious or unconscious--will have to be made as to their relative importance for the group or parts of the group. I say "parts of the group" because, while at the primeval level, family, clan or tribe is an immanent whole, in the differentiated cumulative and urban society certain parts of the group, with different degrees of influence and control and diversified interests, may evaluate the importance of different functions differently.
Differentiation and specialization involve social stratification. We may assume that those in effective control, whether holding public offices and political positions directly or controlling them through intermediaries, will be instrumental in establishing social strata and will, reasonably enough, place their own position and status high on the scale. This should not necessarily be understood or misunderstood as an imposition on the other components of the group. It is a social phenomenon arising from group fermentations and dynamics. The more those involved consent to a particular set of strata, the more the group will have cohesion and harmony, though cohesion and harmony do not imply absolute equality and justice. As we noted at the end of Chapter Two, both the rulers and the ruled must recognize the validity of the prevailing norms for the group to cohere and stabilize.
Similarly, the gradation of the social strata will not follow an absolute criterion or an objective mathematical rationale--impossible to conceive or formulate anyway--but will depend on the arrangements of the power structure. Thus, while the cumulative society draws its power from the products and labor of the farmers, shepherds and workers, it will not necessarily accord them a prominent social position. For the pharaohs of Egypt, the priests of Sumer, the Chou princes of China, as well as modern power holders (industrial managers, political and economic administrators), those who help maintain the social structure, i.e., the soldiers and those who help equip them, just to name a few specialists, are more instrumental and therefore occupy a more prominent position than the laborers in the fields, pastures and workshops. Unless these laborers organize themselves into power complexes such as unions (which themselves obey the laws of the power complex), they will become instruments rather than instrumental.
As the cumulative economy grows, bringing about a dense and heterogeneous population and a more complex society, the functional character of specialization will result in less personal relationships among the group members in the differentiated segments. As we noticed, in smaller, less complex groups the affectional relations intertwine with the functional parameters, but as the society evolves the loci of affectional and functional relations may be transformed and displaced. The affectional factors may be weakened in certain relationships and shifted. This should not necessarily imply that the social structures as a whole will unconditionally move away from affectional relations and that functional organization will tend toward its extremes of the state-of-nature or mechanical rationales we discussed earlier. For the human group to hold together, affectional relationships must anchor the functional arrangements. The drive for contact comfort, the need to belong, and nonrational feelings are basic human characteristics. Indeed, while in the primeval state they were satisfied through the immanent nature of the clan or tribe which made affectional and functional relations a whole, in the more impersonal functional arrangements of urbanized cultures they may receive new emphasis, both to meet the needs of the individual members of the group and to give the group its particular human texture.
Affectional Communal Identification
We noted earlier that for socialization, the group uses man's thinking and communicating faculties by inculcating them with terms of reference which permit the group members to understand each other. From his early years the individual is usually exposed to a particular way of life and a language with which he identifies himself. He also identifies with those who share with him his particular way of life and language, which they have in fact inculcated in him. These common premises develop a sense of belonging and an understanding beyond simple exchange and communication, involving affectional relationships in whose context the group members draw satisfaction from their mutual familiarity, from understanding each other and from their similarity of outlook. Not only do the group members communicate, but they commune as well, interacting in affectional relationship. But to commune refers to more than the nature of the relationship among group members; it also qualifies their position in relation to those who are not considered part of their group. Munio, and its derivative communio, the Latin origin of the word "commune," means to fortify, to enclose, to secure, to build together. The wall in our earlier quote from Thucydides meant not only the walls of the city but also a wall for inner security. Thus, in addition to sharing norms and values with each other, the members of the group, in their togetherness as contrasted with others, find their rampart. It will be their commune, within which they will commune: their community.
These communal feelings develop in primeval groups as well as within complex societies. Of the folk societies Redfield says,
Communicating intimately with each other, each member of the group has a strong claim on the sympathies of the others. Moreover, against such knowledge as they have of societies other than their own, they emphasize their own mutual likeness and value themselves as compared with others. They say of themselves 'use' as against all others, who are ‘they.’
This dichotomy between "we" and "they" is clearer at the stage of folk societies where, because of their segmental economy, clans and tribes can be distinct and their intercourse and interpenetration be regulated by strict rules. As we move to more complex social structures, communal feelings no longer necessarily imply close-knit units and mutual personal knowledge of every fellow member. The likeness and "belonging" which provide communal bonds will be relative and in contradistinction to the complex environment. Members of a particular group will share enough likenesses and be conscious of them to spot a "stranger" in the way he walks, talks, dresses, eats, behaves, believes or "thinks." The communal identification in a more complex society, as distinct from folk groups, should be conceived in terms of particular social characteristics rather than physical nearness. In a macrocosmic sense, we may also identify larger, thinly homogeneous groups as distinct from each other: we may speak of the Atlantic Community. Not that the Sicilian shepherd necessarily communes with the Norwegian farmer, but they do have some values and standards in common as distinguishable from, say, the South Asian community. When we look closer into each of these macrocosmic "communities," we will notice that while they do not, as such, qualify as a community the way a village parish would, they nevertheless have a common thread of identity. For example, both the Sicilian shepherd and the Norwegian farmer qualify themselves as European and Christian. But it may be better that they never meet face-to-face, for if they did they might realize that the Sicilian shepherd probably has more in common with a North African shepherd, and the Norwegian farmer more in common with a North Dakota farmer. The knowledge of both of these facts, however, is important to the political scientist or the politician--for example, when he wants to use European and Christian community feelings in support of a project for a European alliance. As an Asian statesman exclaims, "We Asians..." he touches a key which may vibrate the solidarity of the Shinto imperial Japanese, the Lamaist theocratic Tibetan, and the republican Hindu Indian.
This "we" as against "they" is based on the affectional dimension of individual and group relationships. Affectional bonds run through the fiber of human social life. There again, our general classification of relationships into affectional and functional is instrumental in delineating a community from within the society--an otherwise difficult sociological dissection, as illustrated in such pioneer works as that of Toennies where Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft (community and society) cut across each other. Similar to primary and secondary groups, community and society are not tight structural definitions but can be better conceptualized through the affectional and functional nature of the relations among their members.
Differentiation and Identification, Functional and Affectional
The "we" as against "they" feelings which develop affectionally bring about, within the group, dimensions of identification and differentiation in addition to the functional ones discussed in the context of cumulative economy. While social stratifications in the complex group are based on functional specialities, a.different type of stratification based on affectional relations can be recognized within and by the group. Generally, though by no means exclusively, affectional relationships develop in the context of kinship patterns which evolve as the group gains complexity and heterogeneity. These relations may develop at certain stages of contact and closeness and continue through the social strata even when such contacts and closeness have ceased. The longest-lasting of these affectional relations so far has been and still remains within the family, although the highly mobile and rapidly changing industrial and modern society is diminishing the role of the family as the catalyst of these relations. Further, in school among members of the same generation, in the factory, the office or the field among members of the same profession, in the church among followers of the same confession, and in the society at large among members of the same ethnic group, affectional relations develop and permeate the members' functional behavior.
The affectional influence on the functional develops not only out of direct experiences but also out of a general attitudinal pattern. The former farmer who becomes a political executive may feel affectionally more at ease with a new collaborator who gives signs of a rural temperament (although he may not be a farmer) than with a functionally more efficient collaborator with an urban temperament whom he may consider an irritation and a threat. The affectional, as we noticed earlier, may have a positive or a negative charge. For example, our farmer may have developed an aversion towards his former environment and may shun whatever reminds him of it. Or we may find that, although the former farmer identifies more with a person of rural temperament, he has to opt for the collaborator with an urban temperament who can complement his own dimensions--a symbiotic situation. On the other hand, he may opt for the rural character with whom he identifies more and with whom he can work better because of their common wave length, but who may in fact become a competitor--a commensal situation (that is, eating from the same table). As the affectional develops within the functional--and when positive, facilitates it--one may also pretend certain affections to further functional ends. The politician who runs for office claims broad identity with diverse segments of the population.
The heterogeneous complex society thus provides diversified areas of contact and cooperation in the context of which equally diversified functional and affectional differentiations and identifications become both cause and effect of the group's social texture. There will be circumscription, overlapping, interlocation, interaction, transaction, interpenetration or encompassment within and among the groups, depending on the criteria used to identify them. The individual in the society draws his social identity from these fermentations and dynamics of the different groups of which he is a part and to whose impact he is exposed.
VII. The Range of Group Identity
As the individual is exposed to further norms and absorbs them, this range of identity widens: from the family to the clan, from the clan to the tribe, or from the school to the college, from the college to the professional circle, and so on. The process has an accelerative phase, the limits of which change according to the individual and the environment, and during which the thrust for satisfaction, curiosity, and the search for the unknown move the individual to look for exposure to new dimensions. But it also has a decelerative phase when the individual feels his security endangered by further exposure and dispersion. The values and norms with which he identifies constitute a nucleus wherein he feels mentally at home and wants neither to reject them nor to be rejected by them. When he feels distant from them he will block himself to alien encroachment on them.
Of course, the rigidity of the nucleus and the radius of identity are flexible for both the individual and his group, depending on environmental conditions, which may be more or less conducive to exposure. We saw earlier that at the level of a primeval group with a simple subsistence economy and little contact with a complex environment, we could visualize a rather uniform pattern of identification within the group where the shell and the core were the clan and the tribe itself (see Fig. 3.02).
As relations among group members become more complex, functional and impersonal in the cumulative economy, the individual becomes more conscious of his immediate environment on which he can fall back for affectional identification and mental security. While the borderline or the shell of the group (or now rather the subgroup) may become less clear, the nucleus or the core should consolidate if the group is to continue to be identified as such--and the individual to be identified with it (Fig. 3.03).
This process will not only help identify subgroups and their members, but provide stability and continuity in the larger encompassing group. Some vehicle must carry power, position and property through the social structure, and the vehicle has been group identification. The family and the clan can provide one such identification. The hereditary monarchy develops not only because of the paternal attachment of the sovereign to his progeniture--an important factor, to be sure--but also because of the likelihood that as the society grows more complex, the kind of closeness that can provide for the passage of kingly qualities from one generation to another is better provided in a filial relationship. From the Chinese traditional accounts we learn that on the death of Yu about 2000 B.C., the people insisted on recognizing his son as their sovereign, rejecting his minister, I, whom Yu had entrusted with his power. Thus began the first Chinese dynasty of Hsia. This recognition of filial identification for social stability and continuity can better be realized when the above account is complemented by the following passage which Han Fei Tzu attributes to Confucius:
. . . there was a man of Lu, who followed the ruler to war... fought three battles, and ran away thrice. When Chung-ni [Confucius] asked him his reason, he replied: 'I have an old father. Should I die, nobody would take care of him.' So Chung-ni regarded him as a man of filial piety, praised him, and exalted him.
The implication is that in that social context, familial responsibilities supersede sacrifice for the political ruler.
While we have used the family in traditional China to illustrate how the nucleus provides social structure, we should underline that, depending on the social texture, other nuclei can claim the individual's attachment and loyalty sometimes beyond and above a filial relationship. To stay within the general area of the East and early traditions, here is a passage from The Laws of Manu which will make the point:
Of him who gives natural birth and him who gives the knowledge of the Veda, the giver of the Veda is the more venerable father; for the birth for the sake of the Veda ensures eternal rewards both in this life and after death.
These trends--one, the importance of filial attachment, and the other, religious stress and predominence of the priestly caste--must, of course, be understood in the context of the cultures in which they flourished. While an examination of the particular patterns within Chinese or Indian cultures is beyond the scope of our study, we may nevertheless point out that the range of identity of, the individual members of the group makes all the difference in the composition of groups and their social and cultural patterns. Depending on the group's texture, complexity and heterogeneity, some group affiliations and identifications are inculcated deeper and made more primordial than others. Politically speaking, it is of crucial importance to know where the loyalties lie: whether in different situations the individual considers himself first a Nazi, a Socialist, a Communist or a Christian, or whether he considers himself first the son of Mr. Schmit, the grandson of Sardar Singh, an Ibo or an American. The intensity of belonging can create stronger or weaker delineation between a subgroup and its encompassing group (see Fig. 3.04).
In (a) the subgroup is largely diluted in the encompassing group, while in (b) it conserves a higher degree of its identity vis-à-vis the encompassing group.
But the delineation does exist. Human understanding is limited. It somewhat resembles the waves of a radar. Beyond its capacity to radiate, which may differ for different people depending on their social and cultural exposure potentials, lies the alien which is beyond their comprehension. The more it is distant from the core or nucleus of identity, the more it is alien. Alien here refers not to physical distance, temporal presence or even necessarily to opposing characteristics, but to that which does not fulfill an affectional or functional relationship. Indeed, there is greater identity between Canadians and New Zealanders than between either of them and Columbians who are spatially nearer to both. Culturally, contemporary Canadians may feel closer to ancient Greece--cradle of Western civilization--than to present-day Greece (probably because of historical misconceptions). And the church and the army, despite their apparently opposing ends, cooperate more with each other than either does with the intelligentsia, which theoretically shares meditation and spiritual exercise with the church and strategical rationalization with the military.
The alien becomes less alien as one learns more about it with a positive attraction towards establishing relations with it. Of course, the attraction may be for either affectional or functional relationships, each helping develop the other. Group identity and cohesion depend on where and how clearly the limits of understanding and possibilities of interpenetration among groups are set. The "wall" delineating group identification may be of different thicknesses, locations and constructions. Environmental conditions, of course, influence the formation of group attitudes. Under different conditions we witness different group dynamics. When an outside danger threatens the group's cohesion, or when strict frames are required to maintain its power structure, the group tends to draw in and build a protective shell around itself.
A rigidly integrative normative system, such as a religious sect or an ideologically disciplined group, may impose stricter behavioral patterns on group members in their contact with the outside. Such rigidity may in general reduce the range (depth and breadth) of intergroup understanding and interpenetration, but it may give group members a stronger sense of belonging and usually a purpose and meaning to their lives as members of their group. When they reach the tolerable boundaries of understanding, as a measure of security, they will block and deflect to their inner belief and identity (see Fig. 3.05).
Whether a religious sect, a folk group or an army, the more rigid the group because of the exigencies for its survival, the more it will have to inculcate by strict rules affectional attitudes such as faith, love or loyalty. It may also force integration and cohesion through repressive laws along the lines of "mechanical solidarity" suggested by Durkheim: executing the thief in the Eskimo tribe, burning the heretic, or court martial.
When an outside danger to the group is not apparent (although it may exist) nor strict frames required to maintain the internal power structure, group members, while identifying with their own core, may be more open to alien influences and penetration (see Fig. 3.06).
The less rigid the group, the more it will tend to loosen its homogeneity in its contact with the environment. The concept is global. If its defenses are not strong, a flock will lose its members to hunters, an army to its enemy, one faith to another, or a race will cease to identify as such because of intermarriage. The pressure of the environing factors, similarity, compatibility and complementarity of the components of the merging groups and their dynamics will determine their final interpenetration. Thus, for example, it is difficult today to distinguish the Gaul from the Frank in France. The Blacks in the United States show an opposite type of evolution, by which a group is made conscious of itself by the rigidity of the environment. There are, then, different degrees of interpenetration. Where interpenetration takes place (and it is likely that it does in situations of close contact and cohabitation), it will create heterogeneous and complex social structures. These structures in turn imply mixed and split loyalties and belongings in and among the members of different groups. While groups and their members may thus expand their frontiers of understanding, they will nevertheless retain more or less fluid frontiers of identity both among themselves and with the "outside" groups.
Members of groups with overlapping areas of belonging may identify themselves strongly with. their own group (for example, A in Fig. 3.07), recognizing an area of identification and toleration with other interlacing groups (abc, ab, ac). In this situation the "outside"--that which is considered alien--is to a lesser degree the parts of those interlacing groups lying beyond the original group and to a greater degree whatever lies beyond the interlacing groups. The Jewish people, who have long been accused of such group belonging, provide an example which, when examined in historical contexts, reaffirms that long-lasting group cohesion and consciousness can develop because of, among other things, a hostile environment.
Under other circumstances the members may develop a sense of belonging only to the overlapping area of the interlacing groups and, depending on the nature of the overlapping common group, may be friendly, tolerant, indifferent or even hostile to the rest of the interlacing groups. The latter situation, however, produces tension which must either de-escalate into another intergroup relationship or create a distinct group out of the overlapping common area which, depending on its rigidity, may consider as "outside" even the group it originated from (see Fig. 3.08)
Development of a new faith, a class consciousness such as that of the proletariat, or a strict ideological affiliation can be conducive to such group belonging, in which the members recruited from various groups shift their loyalty to the new nucleus. Of course, some group backgrounds may be more favorable to this kind of conversion. The introduction of Christianity to the Roman Empire, Islam to India by the Moghul emperors, or National Socialism to Germany in the 1920's and 1930's, catalyzed those who wanted to escape their social status, caste or condition.
Under other conditions, however, the members of the interlacing groups may approach each other's groups openly beyond their coinciding area. In this case the common area will have a "soft shell" in relation to the rest of the intermingling groups, and the "outside" will lie more or less beyond the combined ranges of identity of these groups (see Fig. 3.09). When this situation arises and continues, the original groups may eventually dilute their identity in a new heterogeneous society. 'The Dutch, English, Scottish, Danish, German, French and Irish immigrants to the United States have become "Americans." That is why the American culture has been called a melting pot. The shells, of course, will have different degrees of "softness."
VIII. Group Integration
In the transfer of group identifications and the possibility of interpenetrating groups diluting into a heterogeneous society, we should not lose sight of the fact that in the shiftings that take place, the areas that coincide and are eventually instrumental in creating a heterogeneous society were once peripheral to the original nuclei of the composing groups. After the lines of identification have faded away, the heterogeneous society will not necessarily offer its components an integrated nucleus of identification. To start with, the heterogeneous society will probably contain dispersed areas of identification concentrations. Depending upon how integrated the original groups may have been, the transfer of their nuclei to the center of the heterogeneous society will take different lengths of time. If the original group had no great centripetal force, its assimilation and the identification of its members with the heterogeneous society may occur faster. Another variable is the extent to which the heterogeneous society has absorbed the characteristics of a particular group. Northwestern Europeans are generally assimilated into the mainstream of American culture more readily than some Southern Europeans or Chinese, because American culture corresponds more to that of Northwest Europe, which in turn has fewer ethnocentric cultures than, for example, France or China.
Integration within the heterogeneous society requires time and favorable conditions for feelings of belonging and identity to be displaced from the diluted subgroups to the new larger society. The favorable conditions may be catalyzing factors such as a threat from outside and/or an attractive power center within. The Napoleonic wars and later evolutions of Bismarckian politics helped the nineteenth-century integration of the German people, and Commodore Perry's prowess ignited the Japanese ultimate drive for integration, culminating in the Meiji Revolution of 1868. These internal and external factors can be useful for testing the integration of heterogeneous societies. A society may look like an identifiable entity held together by a power structure, yet seeds of disintegration may sprout within it, causing it to crumble when faced with a serious outside challenge. The collapse of the Roman Empire in the fifth century, of the Sassanid Empire.in the seventh century and of the Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian empires after World War I are eloquent examples of such disintegration.
Our examples are macrogroups where political integration and disintegration are more readily apparent. But the degree of integration is the very stuff that permits group identification at any possible level and is, in the last analysis, the business of politics. If the impact of World War I caused the Austro-Hungarian Empire to fall, it was because the Czechs, the Croatians and other minorities within the Empire felt more like Czechs, Croatians or others than they felt Austrian, not only because of their material subjugation but also because of cultural dissonance--an affectional dimension. If Germany became united in the nineteenth century, it was not only because the Zollverein offered material advantages, but also because a Thuringian or a Rhinelander could be made to feel German--an affectional dimension. Time and circumstances had not allowed the fermentations and dynamics to make the Croation proud to be Austrian, but the Rhinelander had become proud to be German. A displacement of identity is involved. Social, spatial and temporal conditions may, of course, create different conjunctures for its process and development. Shifts and displacements may not always be coordinated. In some situations, while identification with one or more subgroups is weakened, a replacement is not readily provided. In such a case we find underintegration. In the accelerated pace of modern change and mobility, for example, the old premises of identity may no longer suffice for social integration. The family which for millennia, from the Far East to the Far West, played the basic socializing role, can no longer claim exclusivity nor adequacy for that function. Religious beliefs and morality can hardly provide efficient norms for the material and technological complexities of modern society. The heterogeneous larger society, while diluting and often uprooting the nucleus of subgroup identification, does not always offer a satisfactory substitute. Out of our graphic presentation in Fig. 3.09, there may develop a diffuse ring of interacting subgroup identifications with a sparse nucleus (Fig. 3.10).
The individual often has to adapt himself to changing social patterns. The nuclear family tends toward becoming an aggregate of individuals oriented towards their social functions rather than an inward group providing a rampart for the growing persons. The neighborhood itself may change because of individuals' mobility, or it may undergo rapid social and technological transformation. Professional groups will be prone to the influence of the technological evolution and revolution. Such changes may create a sense of bondlessness, a lack of solid loyalties and established values in the members of the heterogeneous society--the state of anomie, as Durkheim called it. This socio-psychological state will fail to provide the basic affectional dimensions required for social cohesion and for satisfaction of individuals' needs for belonging. When Mr. X is promoted, he tells himself, "Wait until the folks back home hear this." He not only feels that he is going to do a better job than his predecessor (functional), he not only thinks about his personal gain and interests (functional), but he also thinks about the pride of his family (affectional) and the jealousy of his adversaries (affectional). Or, moving away from folksy feelings, if he has transferred his affections to new circles of friends, mates and colleagues, the object of his feelings will be those he hopes to impress. If he had no affectional ties, he might just as likely become a derelict or a criminal, or commit suicide. Studies show a higher suicide rate among people with looser social ties: the secular as opposed to the religious; the Protestant as opposed to the Catholic or Muslim; the city dweller rather than the rural community member; the single, divorced or widowed rather than the married.
These social phenomena of underintegration not only fall short of fulfilling individuals' affectional needs, but can also drastically affect a society's political processes and power structure. Chronic underintegration will eventually engender a centrifugal movement, the group losing its components to more integrated constellations--a process similar to the physical laws of relationships among cohesion, density, volume and gravity. Maybe we should emphasize here that the analogy is only metaphorical, as the laws of attraction and gravity in the political sense are relative. When we say "more integrated constellations," we do not mean that they are necessarily and objectively so by some precise measurement. The constellation may seem integrated from the outside yet not be so. Nor does this last statement imply that an inner lack of integration will prevent the attracted elements from merging finally with the constellation. These new elements may become catalysts, contributing to the cohesion of a newly joined constellation. All this constellation should have is the potential for integration. When, for example, the intelligentsia are alienated from the prevailing social structure, they may find refuge in an alien doctrine and become its moving force, as they did in Russia before the October Revolution.
Thus, underintegration may lead to disintegration. But it may also cause overintegration. The deficiency of underintegration can render the group vulnerable and sensitive to eccentric power nuclei, which may have affectional overtones, rising from within. The emergence of Fascism in Italy and Nazism in Germany can in part be attributed to this phenomenon. The post-World War I period of lost causes and illusions (as well as material insecurity of course) in these two countries paved the way for the ascension to power of factions and parties which impressed the country with their faith in their goals and their determination to reach them. They provided a direction and a cause with an overwhelming articulation which drowned out and frustrated other alternatives. The situation in Italy was different from that in Germany. While the latter had suffered a humiliating defeat, the former, despite being on the winning side, had found herself the weak sister in the distribution of the spoils of the war. The events that followed in the two countries were not exactly identical, nor were the factions and parties which took power. Nor were their two motor personalities, Mussolini and Hitler, alike. One claimed the culture of the Roman Empire; the other, the brutal heritage of the German tribes. The similarity was that in the two different contexts, underintegration had led to overintegration, bringing about different degrees of totalitarian dictatorships.
While the overintegration of a heterogeneous society through totalitarian methods may show symptoms similar to those of a homogeneous group with strict norms such as a religious sect or an ideologically disciplined party, as discussed earlier in this chapter, the nature of the integration will not be the same. The homogeneous group is so identified because the mechanism of integrative identity functions within the individual members of the group. The totalitarian overintegration of a heterogeneous society needs, as in Nazi Germany, extensive indoctrination and use of mass media for propaganda to the point of intoxication, accompanied by coercive measures. It may seem conceivable that, allowing time and some flexibility of the integrating power nucleus, the heterogeneous society may become more homogeneous. But beyond time, many other variables, such as the size of the society, the environing factors and circumstances, must be favorable. Even then, however, the very nature of social and political fermentations and dynamics assure that the end product of an overintegrated heterogeneous society will not be its total transformation into a large, homogeneous replica of the original integrating power nucleus, but rather a new social amalgam carrying some of the characteristics of the composing groups. The evolution of communism in practically all of the countries that embraced it in order to reorganize their society is a case in point. Cambodian, Cuban, Chinese, Russian or Yugoslav communisms have each their own national characteristics. Even if historical evolution towards communism materialized according to Marx, with the dictatorship of the proletariat, the proletariat would need to educate the deposed bourgeoisie to new ways of looking at things, and the end product of the process could be nothing other than a synthesis. It is significant that so many of the utopians built their models on an island in order to reduce the chances of foreign contamination which would dismantle their house of cards.
All this brings us back to the various group characteristics discussed in this chapter. Man has a radius of understanding and group identification. It can be enhanced and expanded in favorable conditions of education, contact and communication. Nevertheless, it has limits, within which affectional and functional relations develop, enabling man to identify with the familiar and to differentiate the strange or the stranger. It is significant to note that in the quasi-totality of languages, the word for "stranger" is derived from "strange" or "outside." In other words, the stranger is not "normal" or "in." He does not correspond to the "norms." But what is a norm? We shall deal with that in the coming chapters.
 See W. F. Oakes, "External Validity and the Use of Real People as Subjects," and K. L. Higbee and M. G. Wells, "Some Research Trends in Social Psychology during the 1960's," American Psychologist, 27:959-962 and 963-966 (1972).
 See, for example, Arthur F. Bentley, The Process of Government (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1908, 1935); John Dewey, Human Nature and Conduct: An Introduction to Social Psychology (New York: Holt, 1922); C. K. Warriner, "Groups Are Real: A Reaffirmation," American Sociological Review, 21:549-554 (1956); David Truman, The Governmental Process (New York: Knopf, 1951, 1964).
 I. D. Steiner, "Whatever Happened to the Group in Social Psychology?" Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 10:94-108 (1974).
 I am using the term "motor personality" rather than "leader" because leadership implies a consciousness on the part of the actor which is not always a social reality. The motor personality may lead the group in a direction without being conscious of it, while a leader may inadvertently conduct his followers in a different direction than he intended them to go. Thus, for example, the socialist and Marxist leaders of nineteenth-century Europe finally enhanced nationalism more than communism and socialism.
 Earl Latham, "The Group Basis of Politics: Notes for a Theory," APSR, 46:383 (1952).
 Stanley Hoffman, "Heroic Leadership: The Case of Modern France," paper presented to the 1966 Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Association. See also Sidney Hook, The Hero in History (New York: John Day, 1943).
 See, for example, Solomon E. Asch, Social Psychology (New York: PrenticeHall, 1952), Ch. 16.
 See Paul F. Lazarsfeld and Herbert Menzel, "On the Relation between Individual and Collective Properties," in Amitai Etzioni, ed., Complex Organizations, 2nd ed. (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1969), pp. 499-516.
 The story goes that during World War I German spies--directed by Rasputin according to some legends--infiltrated the Czarist Russians' logistics and sent small boots to the northern front and large ones to the south. Most of the soldiers in the north, of Byelorussian and Baltic stock with large feet, could not use the boots and had to cover their feet with cloth which hindered their mobility. In the south most of the recruits were from the Ukraine and Caucasia with smaller feet and had to wear oversized boots, galumphing in the fields and sticking in the mud.
 See notably Hadley Cantril's The Invasion from Mars (Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1940); also John Houseman, "The Men from Mars," Harper's Magazine, December 1948, pp. 74-82.
 For an early attempt at the study of crowd psychology, see Gustave Le Bon, The Crowd: A Study of Popular Mind (London: Ernest Benn, 1903).
 Charles Horton Cooley, Social Organization: A Study of the Larger Mind (New York: Schocken, 1962; originally published in 1909), p. 33.
 Ibid., p. 26.
 Kingsley, Davis, Human Society (New York: Macmillan, 1949), p. 298.
 In their study of the German Wehrmacht during World War II, Shils and Janowitz discuss the primary group character of the squads and platoons in that army which contributed to the high fighting quality of the German soldier.- The Wehrmacht helped maintain this character of the squads and platoons by simultaneously withdrawing and refitting them with replacements, thus permitting the assimilation of the new members into the group while away from the front lines, on leave in more congenial environmen. Edward A. Shils and Morris Janowitz, "Cohesion and Disintegration in the Wehrmacht in World War II," The Public Opinion Quarterly, 12:280-315 (1948).
 Thessalonians 3:10; Soviet Constitution of 1936, Art. 12.
 For the curious mind we may add that the upper extremes of our Fig. 3.1, if continued, may join and find common grounds, as emotional outbursts can often reveal the psyche which complemented the state-of-nature rationales of the primal man.
 Margaret Mead, Sex and Temperament in Three Primitive Societies (New York: Morrow, 1935).
 Colin M. Turnbull, The Mountain People (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1972).
 For another approach to these topics see Harold D. Lasswell, "The TripleAppeal Principle," The American Journal of Sociology, 37:523-538 (1932).
 For reference to the Fenni, see Tacitus, Germania, Sec. 46.
 For an effort towards conceptualization of cultural regularities, see Julian Steward, Theory of Culture Change (Urbana: Univ. of Illinois Press, 1955) particulary Ch. 11; and Leslie A. White, The Concept of Cultural Systems: A Key to Understanding Tribes and Nations (New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1975).
 For an English translation of the works of Ssu-ma Ch'ien, the Chinese historian of second century B. C., see Records of the Grand Historian of China, translated from the Shih Chi of Ssu-ma Ch'ien by Burton Watson (New York: Columbia Univ. Press, 1961).
 See Daryll Forde, "The Anthropological Approach in Social Science," The Advancement of Science, 4:213-224 (1947).
 The term "primeval" is preferred to "primitive" because of its structural connotation and its relative lack of value judgment.
 Ralph Linton, The Study of Man (New York: Appleton-Century, 1936), p. 159. See also Julian Steward's account of Western Shoshone people who went about as separate family bands and gathered only in winter camps or for short hunting periods: "Basin-Plateau Aboriginal Sociopolitical Groups," Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin 220 (Washington, 1938), pp. 230-234. Also Joseph B. Birdsell, "Some Environmental and Cultural Factors Influencing the Structuring of Australian Aboriginal Populations," American Naturalist, 87:170-207 (1953).
 For a recent study of primeval groups see John Nance, The Gentle Tasaday (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1975).
 Almond and Powell call this system an "Intermittent Political Structure." The structure is not as intermittent as all that. It is there for whenever a decision is to be made. By analogy, just because there happens to be no crime to occupy the justice of the peace or the court, does not mean that the system of justice is intermittent. See Gabriel A. Almond and G. Bingham Powell, Jr., Comparative Politics: A Developmental Approach (Boston: Little, Brown, 1966), pp. 215 ff.
 See, for example, Meyer Fortes and E. E. Evans-Pritchard, Introduction to their African Political Systems (London: International African Institute, 1940), pp. 1-23, Sec. v; Forde, "The Anthropological Approach"; and Claude Levi-Strauss, The Elementary Structures of Kinship (Boston: Beacon, 1969).
 Ralph Linton, "The Natural History of the Family," in Ruth Nanda Anshen, ed., The Family: Its Function and Destiny, rev. ed. (New York: Harper, 1959), pp. 30-52.
 See Emile Durkheim, Division of Labor in Society (Glencoe, I11.: Free Press, 1933; first published in 1893), p. 176; and A. R. Radcliffe-Brown, "Three Tribes of Western Australia," Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute, 43:150-151 (1913).
 The examination of kinship and.clan at the primeval stage is not only useful for the understanding of group dynamics in their anthropological or historical context (such as among the Hebrews of the Old Testament, the Germans of the time of Tacitus or the Iroquois of the past century), and not only will it provide us with bases for understanding many aspects of contemporary traditional political cultures, but it will also help us reflect upon such political phenomena of our time as the House of Hanover, the Kennedy, Dupont or Rothschild clans, or pressure groups and lobbies. Though seemingly different in their structures, these latter groups reveal many clan characteristics.
 A. R. Radcliffe-Brown, The Andaman Islanders (Glencoe, I11.: Free Press, 1948), p. 43.
 Durkheim, Division of Labor in Society, p. 175.
 Robert Redfield, "The Folk Society," American Journal of Sociology, 52 (1947); p. 302.
 Sahlins, "The Social Life of Monkeys, Apes and Primitive Man," p. 57.
 See Strehlow, Die Aranda and Loritja--Stamme in Zentral Australien, III, 8, as quoted in Emile Durkheim, The Elementary Forms of the Religious Life, (Glencoe, I11.: Free Press, n. d.), p. 371.
 See accounts of social structure among the Logoli, the Tallensi and the Nuer tribes of Africa in Fortes and Evans-Pritchard, African Political Systems; see also I. Schapera, Government and Politics in Tribal Societies (London: Watts, 1956); and Max Gluckman, "The Origins of Social Organization," The Rhodes-Livingston Journal, 12:1-11 (1951); and Marshall Sahlins, Stone Age Economics (Chicago: Aldine-Atherton, 1972).
 See notably the account of the Tristan da Cunha Islanders in Peter A. Munch, "Cultural Contacts in an Isolated Community," American Journal of Sociology, 53:1-8 (1947).
 See Ruth Underhill, The Autobiography of a Papago Woman (American Anthropological Association, Memoirs, No. 46, 1936), where the war party preparations of the South Arizona Papago tribe are discussed. See also W. H. R. Rivers, Essays on Depopulation of Melanesia (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1922), Ch. VIII, where in the discussion of "The Psychological Factor in the Depopulation of Melanesia," the important social functions of the headhunting expedition of the Eddystone Islanders are depicted.
 Redfield, "The Folk Society," p. 299.
 Malinowski, Magic, Science and Religion, p. 14.
 Alfred L. Kroeber, Anthropology (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1948), p. 603.
 Edwin W. Smith and Andrew Murray Dale, The Ila-Speaking Peoples of Northern Rhodesia (London: Macmillan, 1920), I, 296.
 Edward Adamson Hoebel, The Law of Primitive Man (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1954), pp. 67 ff.
 See notably Bernard Berelson and Gary A. Steiner, Human Behavior (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1964), pp. 468 ff.; Seymour M. Lipset and Reinhard Bendix, Social Mobility in Industrial Society (Berkeley: Univ. of California Press, 1959); also Natalie Rogoff, Recent Trends in Occupational Mobility (Glencoe, I11.: Free Press, 1953).
 See Angus Campbell, Gerald Gurin and Warren E. Miller, The Voter Decides (Evanston, I11.: Row, Peterson, 1954), p. 99.
 Malinowski, "Myth in Primitive Psychology," p. 78.
 For a classical treatment of the subject, see L. T. Hobhouse, G. C. Wheeler and M. Ginsberg, The Material Culture and Social Institutions of the Simpler Peoples (London: Chapman and Hall, 1915).
 Thucydides, The Peloponnesian Wars, Bk. I, 2.
 There is debate among archeologists about the exact time and place for the identification of civilization. See notably Henri Frankfort, The Birth of Civilization in the Near East (Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana Univ. Press, 1951); V. Gordon Childe, "The Birth of Civilization," Past and Present, 2:1-10 (1952); Kathleen Kenyon, "Jericho and Its Setting in Near Eastern History," Antiquity, 30:184-195 (1956); Robert J. Braidwood, "Jericho and Its Setting in Near Eastern History," Antiquity, 31:73-81 (1957); and Kathleen Kenyon, "Reply to Professor Braidwood," Antiquity, 31:82-84 (1957).
 For a review of the evolution towards food production see Peter Fark, Human Kind (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1978).
 Malinowski, Magic, Science and Religion, pp. 10-11.
 Fortes and Evans-Pritchard, African Political Systems, p. 8.
 Redfield, "The Folk Society," p. 305.
 My use of the word "civilization" should be clarified so that I need not continue to put it in quotation marks. I do not give the word a value charge--like that suggested by "civilized" against "primitive"--but use it only to connote city-dwelling, the kind of culture which relates to "civitas" and the social complications and complexes it involves. Otherwise it would be a truism to state that the history of mankind is filled with civilized people behaving in the most "uncivilized and inhuman" manner.
 Redf ield, "The Folk Society," p. 297. See also William Graham Summer's discussion of ethnocentrism in Folkways (Boston: Ginn, 1907), pp. 13-15.
 Ferdinand Toennies, Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft (1887), trans. and ed. by Charles P. Loomis as Fundamental Concepts of Sociology (New York: American Book Company, 1940).
 See notably Amos Hawley, Human Ecology: A Theory of Community Structure (New York: Ronald Press, 1950), for a more elaborate use of the terms "symbiosis" and "commensal."
 C, p, Fitzgerald, China: A Short Cultural History (New York: Praeger, 1961), p. 14.
 The Complete Works of Han Fei Tzu, trans. W. K. Liao (London: Arthur Probsthain, 1959), Vol. II, Bk. 19, Ch. XLIX, p. 286. It must be noted that while Han Fei Tzu, of the third century B. C., belonged to the Legalist School of Chinese philosophy and quoted Confucius to refute him, the Confucian concept of filial piety was the prevailing social norm of Chinese culture.
 The Laws of Manu, traps. Georg Buhler (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1886), II, 146. For the sake of fluidity, Buhler's parentheses in the translation have been removed.
 Durkheim, Division of Labor in Society, Bk. I, Ch. 2.
 See notably Erich Rosenthal, "Acculturation Without Assimilation? The Jewish Community of Chicago, Illinois," American Journal of Sociology, 66: 472-474 (1960).
 For a quantitative approach to group structure see Claude Flament, Applications of Graph Theory to Group Structure (Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: PrenticeHall, 1963).
 See notably Howard Woolston, "The Process of Assimilation," Social Forces, 23:416-424 (1945).
 Worked out among the German States in the nineteenth century, Zollverein was the customs union that provided material bases for later unification of Germany into one empire.
 See Lipton, The Study of Man, Ch. X.
 See our Chapter Six: Norms; and Chapter Seven: Value-Forming Agencies.
 See Durkheim, Division of Labor in Society, notably Bk. III, Ch. l; and his Suicide (Glencoe, I11.: Free Press, 1951; originally published in French in 1897). See also Elton Mayo, The Social Problems of an Industrial Civilization (Boston: Harvard Univ. Graduate School of Business Administration, 1945).
 Some people, of course, may have a greater tendency to become derelicts or commit suicide for pathological reasons. Due to certain processes of socialization such as membership in the Mafia, some may make their folks proud of them by becoming criminals. See notably Arthur Griffiths, Mysteries of Police and Crime, 2 vols. These possibilities, however, do not negate the general social consequences of deteriorating affectional ties.
 See Berelson and Steiner, Human Behavior, pp. 633-635.
 See our treatment of these movements in Chapter Five.
 See Chapter Seven.
 See notably Sir Thomas Mores Utopia (1516); Thomas Campanella's City of the Sun (1601); Johann Valentin Andreae's Christianopolis (1619); Francis Bacon's New Atlantis (1622); and Etienne Cabet's Voyage to Icaria (1842).
 French: étranger, étrange; German: Fremder, fremd;
Japanese: (gaijin), outside-people.