Vilfredo Pareto’s Sociology
xii
close to the history of the discipline; but it is a history which has theoretical and
practical ‘pay-off’.
Another reason for engaging with classical sociology is the continuity in the
type of questions that occur ‘naturally’ to the sociological imagination. Whilst it is
obvious that societies have altered since the period when the classical authors were
writing (and often we are conscious of those alterations precisely because of the
contrast between the worlds they were analysing and the worlds we are analysing),
and that their horizons and ours can hardly meet wily nily, there is still a continuity
of sociological questioning of human behaviour and the nature of societies that
transcends these specific situations. Even in a post-holocaust, post-Cold war,
nuclear world where our social problems and cultural
challenges include global
warming, Aids, the digital revolution, globalisation and so on, concerns central to
the sociological imagination serve to connect us. (It should not be forgotten that the
classical writers saw enough of natural disasters, plagues and epidemics, wars and
widespread poverty, death, murder and cruelty themselves to be well aware of the
nature of human societies: we do not have the monopoly on this sort of experience and
in many ways may be more protected from them). Hence the classics are interrogated
for the profound help they can offer in thinking through these very conceptual issues.
To ask about the rationality or irrationality
of human behaviour, about the causes of
social change, order and stability, about the types of inequality that persist, about the
nature of power and the control of resources – all these issues are shared between
past and present, and there is no reason why classical thought about these conceptual
matters should be any less profound. Hence the classics are engaged with because of
this continuity of conceptual conundrum. With Pareto, his concerns with explaining
the irrational basis of social behaviour and the predilection to give these irrational
bases rational and ideological justifications, is one such
example of an answer to a
common and perennial question about the rationality of social action.
At other times, the situation can be somewhat reversed: for example, contemporary
conditions may exhibit in more extreme forms than hitherto the very social situations
that the classical theory originally considered, almost in anticipation. Such would be
the case with Weber, for example, were charisma to be the dominant form of political
legitimation in states where rational-legal values and norms had previously held
sway; Marshall points to a similar situation
in his work on Pareto, since the risks
associated now with political planning in complex industrial societies, he argues,
renders Pareto’s ideas particularly apposite: they have become of age. Of course,
such a conclusion could not be reached without an interpretation of the current
political system nor without knowledge of Pareto’s sociology – a dialogue between
these two forms of knowledge creates a synthesis that has theoretical potential. In
other senses too, the changing social conditions from classical times to our own
does not impact on the relevance of classical sociological ideas for the interpretation
of historical societies. What has altered – both for the study of past societies and
the analysis of contemporary societies – is the range
of specialised research and
the uncovering or production of vast amounts of relevant data that are pertinent to
the enquiry. Marshall’s study again provides a good illustration of this point since
he brings Pareto’s work into alignment with the huge amount of psychoanalytic
literature that has been produced since Pareto died: in many ways, Marshall
Series Editor’s Preface
xiii
translates Pareto’s psychological theories into contemporary parlance to the mutual
illumination of both. In other words, as I return to below, there needs to be kept
fresh knowledge of classical sociology precisely because some of these resonances
cannot be predicted in advance nor discovered without
wide ranging knowledge of
the classics themselves. Hence a further reason for reading the sociological classics
is precisely to preserve our knowledge of them precisely because they are felt to be,
or may become once again but in new ways, relevant to our worlds.
However, the degree to which we feel our worlds our similar or dissimilar to
the worlds of the classical sociologists – and there are blatant examples of where
they are not – will vary from time to time and topic to topic – but overall, where
the nature of modernity and its origins and its futures are still a defining feature
of sociological work then the classical sociologists, whatever their specific epoch,
are still our contemporaries. Hence we read the sociological classics because they
address similar social processes in relation to modernity that we have inherited.
One reason that can be given for not reading the sociological classics relates to
a
limitation at source, but this is often meant more in a moral than empirical sense:
that is, classical sociologists were not concerned apparently with many of the social
issues which concern us. Most strikingly is this felt to be the case with relation to
race and ethnicity and most significantly in relation to gender. Even in the light of this
legitimate criticism I believe there is still much scope for retaining engagement with
the classics. I have two arguments. First, that learning how and why a sociological
vision is limited should not give us cause to celebrate our superiority to the classics
for seeing more than they ever did, since this is something of a hostage to fortune,
when it becomes clear in days to come how limited and biased our own images of
social reality and what was considered significant were. What is more interesting is
to understand the social and cultural factors that impacted on vision and limited it:
placing classical sociology in its context allows us to see
how sociological discourse
is produced within a context and does not exist outside of social realities, as if it
were immune from the very social forces it uses to explain all other phenomena.
Hence studying classical sociology in relation to the history of the discipline can
only benefit the practice of sociology.
A second argument relates to actually finding, as I mentioned above, more
continuity with the classical sociological imagination than is perhaps at first
anticipated For sure, what constitutes inequality and the diverse forms in which
social divisions arise and persist may involve a wider spectrum than the classical
authors envisaged – there is nonetheless a continuity of concern with inequality and
stratification as such in all the classical texts – the specific manifestations are what
has altered. When we are alerted to these contemporary manifestations however, it
is possible to see where they are in fact mentioned in classical work. For example,
Herbert Spencer’s
writing about children, education, child rearing or about the nature
of disabilities connects classical concerns with contemporary issues. The continuity
can also be found by the discovery of other classical voices that have not previously
been heard because of earlier limitations in reception: the work of Dubois and in
particular Charlotte Perkins Gilman and Jane Addams come very much to mind.
It is also important to read the sociological classics on account of the partial
reception histories of the texts and ideas. In the nature of the case, and in a similar