LACAPRA, D. Emile Durkheim - Sociologist and Philosopher (Em Inglês) PDF

Emile Durlffieim
Sociologist and Philosopher
Dominick LaCapra
Critical Studies in the Humanities

Victor E. Taylor - Series Editor
The Davies Group, Publishers Aurora, Colorado

11 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher

Copyright 1972 by Cornell University
Revised edition copyright 2001 by Dominick LaCapra
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
LaCapra, Dominick, 1939-

Emile Durkheim : sociologist and philosopher I Dominick LaCapra.
p. em. (Critical studies in the humanities)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 1-888570-60-1 (alk. paper)
I. Durkheim, Emile, 1858-1917. 2. Durkheimian school of
sociology. I. Series.
HM465 .L33 2001
30 1' .092 dc21
2001028598
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Printed in the United States of America.

Published 200 1. The Dav ies Gro up , Publishers. Aurora, Colorado.
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zv Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
Critical Studies i n the Humanities

Victor E. Taylor, Series Editor
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Department of English and Humanities, York College of Pennsylvania, York,
PA 17405-7199.
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Michael Strysick, E d . , The Politics of Community
Dennis Weiss, Interpreting Man
Contents
.
Foreword
.
Vlt
Preface, 2001 xz
1. Introduction 1
2. Durkheim's Milieu 25
3. The Division ofSocial Labor 15

Quo Vadis 15
Mechanical and Organic Solidarity 79
Conscience Collective 83
Crime and Punshment 86
Traditional Differentiation 96
Theory ofChange 110
Residual Dou bts 114

Contract and Solidarity 118
Modem Social Pathology 122
4. Suicide and Solidarity 137

The Object and Limitations ofSuicide 137
Anomie and Egoism 147
Altruism and Fatalism 160
Durkheim and weber 165
From Analysis to Refonn 170
5. Theory and Practice 179

Sociolog]J, History. and Reform 179
Corporatism 200
The Individual and Society 211
v1 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
6. The Sacred and Society 235

The Theory ofReligion 236
Sociology and Epistemology 251
Social Metaphysic 262
Epilogue 281
Selected Bibliography 285
Index 297
Foreword
In the past several decades, the dominance of critical theory i n int erdisc
i p l inary scholarship has l e d to the reformulation of the basic propositions
guiding research in the humanities and social sciences. While scholars i n
various disciplines continue t o express their concern over the status of tradi
tional forms of inquiry in response to the radical nature of critical theory, i t
is important t o note that these theoretical incursions into traditional research
methods h ave made possible p roductive reappraisals of key historical hgures
and their contributions to intel lectual life. In Emile Durkheim: Sociologist
and Philosopher, Dominick La Capra, a leading theoretical historian, offers an
important revi sed critical analysis of D urkheim's methodological and philo
sophical pursuits, with an emphasis on the metaphysical, epistemological,
and ethical problems inherent in fo rming constructs of the cultural and
social spheres. While Durkheim's thought did not " i nfluence significantly,
if at a l l , the writings of Roland Barthes, Gilles Deleuze, Jacques Derrida,
M i c h e l Foucault, Julia Kristeva, Jacques Lacan, Jean-Fran<;:o i s Lyo tard and
other recent thinkers . . . the tradition he helped initiate was quite important
for such figures as Pierre Bourdieu, [Marcel .\1auss], Claude Levi-Strauss,
and members of the Annales school"(ix). It is significant to note that in ad
di tion to presenting Durkheim as a crucial resource for current theoretical
sociologists, LaCapra's revised study situates Durkheim's major writings in
relation to the current poststructuralist critiques of one of his central issues,
"the role of reason i n life and its relation to normative limits and the senti
ment of soli darity among members of society" (3). Emile Durkheim: Sociolo
gist and Philosopher i s a theoretically charged reexamination of the historical
and intellectual contexts that gave rise to a unique method of philosophical
sociology, providing readers from a wide range of interests with an important
critical reappraisal of Durkheim's life and writings.
Victor E. Taylor, Series Editor

vm Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
Preface :I 2001
While I have revised certain fo rmulations, added material , and updated

a number of footnotes, I have retained much that appeared in the original
edition of this, my first book. Still, there are times when supplementary
statements and seemingly small changes of inflection may significantly
transform meanings. In any case, I would maintain that the issues raised in
the book still preoccupy us, especially on the level of basic or background
assumptions. Perhaps the key ethical and political issue i n this respect is
the actual and desirable interaction between legitimate limits and excessive
overtures or transgressive initiatives - a recurrent issue that must alw ays
be fu rther differentiated with respect to different sociohistorical contexts
and groups. This is a crucial issue in the relation b e tween structuralism and
poststructuralism, and it calls not for an either/or decision but fo r an analysis
of complex relations and difficult choices in particular circumstances.
Since the writing of this book, figures largely ignored, relatively un
known, or still little published in the late sixties and early seventies have come
to the forefront of French thought, and their work has elicited responses
in int ellecrual circles around the world. They have effected a reordering of
the canon of critical theory in a manner that we are only starting to rethink
and in part redress. Durkheim's work did not influence significantly, if at
all, the writings of Roland Barthes, G i lles De leuze, Jacques Denida, Michel
Foucault, Julia Kristeva, Jacques La can, J ean-F ran<;:ois Lyotard and other re
cent thinkers, although the tradition he helped initiate was quite important
for such figures as Pierre Bourdieu, Claude Levi-Strauss, and members of
the Annales school. And when this b o o k was first written, one did not see
G eorges Bataille and others in and around the College de Sociologie as miss
ing links between Durkheim and Mauss, on the one hand, and Levi-Strauss
and his poststructural respondents, on the other. But one may nonetheless
argue that a reconsideration of Durkheim and his p e rspective on social
and ethical problems becomes more necessary in light of the emphases of
Batail l e , Derrida, Foucault, and other recent figures. For the latter often
x Emile Durkhcim; Sociologist and Philosopher
stress the role o f excess, undecidability, hyperbole , and transgression in a

manner that calls for a counter-stress on the role of limits. One may also
argue that Durkheim's concerns provide needed mediation between the
liberal tradition that draws from Tocque ville and the exorbitant radicalism
drawing from Foucault and other post structuralists-traditions that typi
cally have little to do with each other. 1
Indeed, when one rereads Durkheim today, one is struck by a pronounced
feature of his thought-in one significant sense, a civic virtue-to which
I would like t o call attention: his stylistic decorum and poise in addressing
difficult if not intractable problems. While he may in certain respects be
criticized for having too distant a perspective on the anomie disorientation
he diagnosed, he may also be seen as attempting to embo dy, in his very
style of writing and thought, the ethicopolitical vision he had for society
-a rhetorical and dialectical enactment ci the ends he advocated for social
a n d cultural life at large. This attempt to work through the problems he
analyzed may have required a more complex approach, both stylistic and
sociopolitical, indeed an approach that was itself more empa thically moved
and even disturbed by the conflicted problems he perceived in the larger
social context. However, there is also much to be said for the tense, flexible
interaction between limits and chalknges to them that Durkheim desired
in the larger society and to some extent performatively displayed in his own
conception of problems. Such an emphasis may both serve as a counterf orce
to all-or-nothing responses and have significant implications for the crucial
social issues I try to address in this book.
I thank Tracie Matysik for her assistance in preparing the index.
Nous
On this problem se my History and Reading: Tocqznzlk, Foualult, French

Studies (Toronto: U niversi ty ofToronto Press, 200). See also my W+iting
History. W+iting Trmmltl (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Pres, 2001}.
These books complement the present study in a variety of ways. See also The
ColoJSociology 1937-39, ed. Denis Hollier (Minneapol is: University of
Minnesota Press, 1988).1
1
Introduction
Ifyou wish to mature your thought, attach yourselfto the scrupulous study ofa
great master; inqu ire into a system until you reach its most secret workings.
- Advice of Emile Durkheim to a disciple
The present study attempts to provide a comprehensive interpretation

and assessment of the thought of Emile Durkheim. Largely, it falls within
the venerable tradition of the t!tude d u systeme. O ften i t treads the dangerous
b u t challenging line between haute vulgarisation and a history of a learned
discipline. Its primary object i s to treat D u rkheim's thought as an i ntegral
whole comprising sociological analysis, policy, and philosophy.
Some reference is mad e to the work o f other memb ers of the An nee soci
ologique school that formed around Durkheim as its acknowledged master.
In many basic ways, the thought of members of this school was elaborated
dialogical ly. And the periodical that became t h e s c h o o l's works hop was a
collective product. Durkhei m's thought provided the elementary structure
for a close working relationship and a fairly cohesive theoretical outlook.
But fu l l justice could be rendered to memb ers of the An nie school only
in a separate work. Marcel Mauss alone, who was perhaps inhibited in his
scholarly production by a life spent i n the shadow of his more famous uncle,
would require a full-length study to bring out the magnifl cent contributions
which he managed to compress into the creative compass of relatively few
published works.
I sketch some pertinent features o f D u rkheim's biography and situate his
experience within the matrix of his own society. While D u rkheim's thought
was not merely symptomatic of his milieu, his ideas to a signiflcant extent
arose in response to th e needs of the T h i rd Republic in France. I n fact,
he often conceived his own society as a test case of the needs of modern
soci ety in general.
Durkheim was the E rst to attemp t the institutionalization in social sci

ence of what Auguste Comte had termed the era of specialization. Durkheim
advised would-be disciples to choose a circumscribed area of enquiry. His
founding of the famed periodical L'Amu!e sociologique was intended to further
this aim. H e n ce there is m u ch to be gained from seemi ngly so superflcial a
task as the examination of the tables of contents of the twelve volumes of the
Annee published under Durkheim, for they embody a telling conception of
the classifl catory cadres of sociology i n his mind. In the pages of the Annee
and elsewhere, Durkheim's own preferred object o f i nvestigation was the
relationship b e tween society and morality. His very E rst published article
contained a programmatic announcement which exercised a constraining
hold on his entire life's work: "Of all the various branch es of sociology, the
science of ethics i s the one which attracts us by preference and which will
command our attention E rst of all." L
But Durkheim retained Comte's overall ambition of philosophical
synthesis. He became increasingly convinced that specialized expertise and
the profess ionalized p urge of dilettantism should not be effected at the ex
pense of interdiscipli nary coordination a n d of t h e speculative imagination
restrained, tested, and matured by patient i nvestigation. Like nearly all the
members of his school, Durkheim was trained in philosophy, a preparation
made necessary by the educational system of the time. And despite his earlier
attempts to de ne sociology as an autonomous discipline, he became con
vinced that all serious enquiry is founded in philosophy and that philosophy
is related both to understanding and to action. It might be said that for
Durkheim sociology had not only a scientific field to explore but also an
exploratory vision and a civilizing mission. I n time, sociology culminated
for him in a philosophical anthropology that drew the i nvestigator fro m
methodology to epistemological and even metap hysical problems.
Toward the end of his l i fe, Durkheim wrote to G e o rges D avy: " H av
ing begun with philosophy, I tend to return to it, or rather I have found
myself drawn back to it naturally by t h e nature o f the questions w h i ch I
found in my path."2 In an important article written at about the same time,
Durkheim expressed this need for a return to his philosophical origins in
more impersonal terms: "Since our method has b een postulated upon the
attempt to emancipate sociology from a philosophical tutelage which could
only prevent it fro m being constituted as a positive science, w e have at times
Chapter 1 introduction 3
been suspected of a systematic hostility for philosophy in general or at least

of a more or less exclusive sympathy for a narrow empiricism in which one
has rightly seen only a lesser philosophy." But an anti-philosophical posi
tion implied, for Durkheim, "a very unsociological attitude." In his mind,
socio logy had "to pose as an axiom that questions which have held their
place in history can never be outmoded; they can become transformed but
cannot perish." Here Durkheim touched upon a conception of history
itself neither as mere chronology nor as evolutionary development but as
a complex, multidimensional process of displacement, or repetition with
more or less controlled, yet at times disruptively traumatic, change. Thus
he found it inadmissible that "even the most audacious problems which
h ave agitated p h i loso p h e rs" cou l d ever fall i n to ob livi o n .3 He went on to
conclude that "sociological refl ection i s called upon to prolong i tself by its
natural progress under the form of philosophical refl ection; and everything
permits the assumption that, considered i n this way, the problems which
philosophy treats will present more than one unexpected answer. "4
Thus Durkheim conceived of his project i n terms of a rational coor
dination of social an alysis, informed prescriptive reco m m endation, and
philosophical speculation with special relevance for thought and action in
modern society. He completed only a fragment of a synthetic philosophical
work entitled "La Morale." But, in an important sense, all his thought was
oriented toward this magisterial treatise on m o rality - his last will and
testamen t - which he did not live t o complete. For the question running
like a red thread through Durkheim's thinking was the role of reason in life
and its relation to normative limits and the sentiment of solidarity among
members of society. His ultimate concern with epistemology and metaphysic
subsumed a certain conception of the social system and of morality as its
inner motivati o n . In a crucial sense, Durkheim's thought was as much the
culmination of classical philosophy as the initiation of modern social science.
Indeed, this ambivalent status constitutes its peculiar fascination.
Partial and highly s e lective readings of Durkheim have often resulted
in grievous misinterpretations. But the attempt through exegesis to set
the record straight b y seeing Durkheim whole is admittedly problematic.
This i s b ecause of the seemingly ambiguous character of his thought itself.
Durkheim i s one o f the best known and one of the least understood m aj o r
social thinkers. The controversies that surround his thought bear upon es-
sential points, not details. 5 This state of affairs poses a formidable barrier for
the uninitiated b u t genuinely i n terested reader attempting to acquire some
insight into his thought and its relevance. Durkheim was a very vigorous
advocate of the idea of a social science. Incongruously, the interpretation
of the body of ideas in which he tried to lay the foundations of this science
seems often to circumscribe it with a magic circle whose center is everywhere
and whose circumference is nowhere.
Since Durkheim's ideas are the object of highly divergent interpretati ons,
it is important to make clear the basic interpretive schema that informs this
study. Unfortunately, to begin a work with even a schematic "showing and
telling" brings a loss of dramatic unity. The last act is given away in the
first. And aesthetic u n i ty th reatens to be replaced by the tedious rigor of
a syllogistic treatise. In the case of a thinker like Durkheim, i t is perhaps
better to incur these risks than to be open to misunderstanding.
Durkheim was a convinced and unrepentant rationalist. To characterize
his own perspective, he rejected all current labels, including the Comtean
and Spencerian fo rms of positivism. But he was willing to assert that "the
sole appellat i o n which we accept is that of rati o n al i s m . Indeed our principle
is to extend scientific rationalism to human conduct in showing that, con
sidered in the past, i t is reducible to relations of cause and effect which a no
less rational operation can transform into rules for the fu ture."6 Durkheim
most opposed romantic irrationalism and renascent mysticism as intuitive
or excessive responses to the complexities and disorientation of modern
soci ety. His Les Regles de Ia methode sociologique ( The Rules of Sociological
Method) was an attempt to do for the study of society what D escartes had
d o ne for the study o f nature. His lifelong ambition was to reanimate and
renovate classical rationalism until i t became a more fl exible, complex,
generous, and informed medium of both thought and action. Reason for
Durkheim had i ts full traditional sense: i t was a m o d e of analysis, criticism,
prescription, and reconstruction in soci ety.
Unintimidated by t h e applicat i o n of the sociology of knowledge to so
ciology itself, Durkheim concluded that sociology was the product of two
maj or historical and cultural forces: the manifestation of rationalism in the
natural sciences and the concrete experience of disruptive crisis in modern
societies. The role of reason in the study of nature intimated a promising
fu ture for rationalism in social science. But the second and more existential
cause was perhaps the more important. For Durkheim, social consciousness
arose in response to the doubt, disorientation, and anomie anxiety caused by
the breakdown of tradition. The role of rational consciousness was t o state
as clearly as possible the causes of crisis i n society and the way to overcome
them. Indeed the primary function of rational conscio usness for Durkheim
was reparative: to respond to sometimes traumatic disruption and to replace
what had been destroyed with new forms of life . Unlike certain reactionary
conservatives, Durkheim did not present conscious thought as a cause of
disintegration in modern society. H e defended conscio usness, and science,
which was its highest expression, as the only effective instruments people had
to guide them in reconstructing the social order. Durkheim was concerned
with heal ing, not salvation. His fascination with medical metaphors attested
to this fact. The sociologist was not the quasi-transcendental advocate of
a messianism without a messiah, the prophet of an abstract, perennially
futuristic, perhaps vacuous utopian ideal situated beyond human limi
tations. He or she w a s the doctor who lucidly diagnosed the ills of society
and prescrib ed rational remedies. The alliance of Durkheim's rationalism
with his conception of the relation of theory to practice and h is di agnosis
of modern society was well expressed i n relation to his own society when he
delineated with his habitual combination of analytic rigor and moral fervor
the reasons why sociology (in his sense) was born in France. H i s statement
deserves to be quoted at length:
This [the genesis of sociology in France] was due in the first instance
to a marked weakening of traditionalism. When religious, political,
and j uridical traditions have preserved their rigidity and authority,
they contain all will toward change and by that token preclude the
awakening of reflection. When one is brought up to believe that things
must remain as they are, one has no reason to ask what they ought to
be and, consequently, what they are. The second factor is what may be
called the rationalist spirit. One must have faith i n the power of reason
in order to dare an attempt to explain in accordance with its laws this
sphere of social facts where events, b y their complexity, seem to resist
the formulas of science. Now France fulfills these two conditions to
the highest degree. She is, of all the countries of Europe, the one where
the old social organization has been completely uprooted. We have
made a tab ula rasa, and on this land laid bare we must erect an entirely
new edifl ce - an enterprise whose urgency we have felt for a century

b u t which, continually announced and continually delayed, is hardly
more advanced today than on the morrow of the French Revolution.
Furthermore, we are and w e remain the land of Descartes. We have
an irresisti b l e u rge to see things through deflned notions. No doubt,
Cartesianism is an archaic and narrow form of rati onalism, and we
must not rest content with it. But if it is necessary to transcend it, it
is even more necessary to conserve its principle. We must fashion for
ourselves more complex ways of thought, but we must keep this cult
of distinct ideas, which is at the very root of the French spirit and at
the root of all science. 7
Especially signifl cant in this p assage is the existential precedence ac

corded to normative demand with respect to empirical e n q u i ty. It is when
one feels and thinks that things ought to b e other than they are that one
is justiflably motivated to inquire i n t o the way they i n fact are. Here
research i s not merely the result of some autonomized, self-referential
methodological i m p e rative. Equally signifl cant i s the experience of social
and personal disruption, at times of traumatic proportions, i n relation
to the rational attempt to create more desirable and livable social condi
tions. The truly basic philosophical tension i n the thought of D urkheim
was related to his rationalism. It involved his partial failure to transcend
classical rationalism. D u rkheim's thought was caught up in a tension
between the narrowly analytical and the d i a lectical h eritages transmitted
to h i m through Charles Renouvier.
With reference to the most important historical infl uences on Durkheim,
one might simplistically label the narrowly analytical tendency of his thought
a Cartesianized and socialized neo-Kantianism. The most obvious infl uence
of neo-Kantianism was in his passion fo r dualistic antinomies or extreme
b i nary oppositions. T h e more profo u n d influence, which fed i n to h i s d i a
lectical attempt to reconcile or at least relate antinomies, was his ultimate
affl rmation of a philosophy of fl nitude based upon a normative sense of
limits. The treatise o n morality that Durkheim did not live to complete
would have been a reformulation of Kan t's Critique of Practical Reason
fl eshed out with the results of sociological reflection.
The i n fl u e n c e of Cartesian ism was most obvious in Durkheim's rel i ance
u p o n the antinomy between mind and matter. This antinomy was expressed
in the idea of homo duplex - the dual nature of man - which was inter
preted by Durkheim in terms of the opposition b e tween the organic and
what h e called the sui generis or specifically social. By this interpretation,
Durkheim arrived at the idea that mind was made up of a "sui generis
realm of social facts . " S o cio logy was defined i n the first instance not by
its perspective or method b u t by the supposedly autonomous status o f its
object, which was identified with the object of idealistic philosophy. But the
sociologistic revision of the idea of homo dup lex was only the most extreme
example o f Durkheim's tendency to force "clear and distinct ideas" beyond
conceptual analysis, or the elaboration of ideal types, into an analytical
dissociation of reali ty.
T h e n o t i o n o f the d i a l e ctical is m o s t o ften associated with the name
of H egel, but before the limits of knowledge that Hegel attempted to
transcend were reached, Kant himself so ught a nontotalizing mediation
of antinomies. Kant, like Durkheim, is perhaps best seen as primarily a
moral philosop her. His conception of religion, like that o f D urkheim, was
related to the needs of practical reason. B u t i n his Critique ofjudgment,
Kant saw t h e central position of aesthetics in its mediation of oppositions.8
And Kant's conception o f religion itself held out the promise of reso lv
ing, or a t least mitigating, the tragic antinomies which divided people i n
a w a y that w a s m o r e t h a n aesthetic because i t was, fro m his perspective,
more than subjective.
Durkheim d i d n o t recognize the i m p ortance of Kant's Critique of
judgment. His studies of "primi rive" cultures did not open up to him the
importance of aesthetics and the ways in which art, when not autonomized
or made narrowly self-referential, might itself be more than a subj ective or
p urely formal phenomenon. Nor did these studies fully reveal to him the
limitations of a purely sociological view of religion. His interpretation of
religion culminated in a vision of society as a rather disincarnate functi onal
equivalent of divinity - somewhat a collective ghost i n a "morphological"
mach i n e .
The antipathy between positivism and idealism, which Talcott Parsons,
in his Structure ofSociaiAction, took as the faulted foundation o f Durkheim's
thought, is best seen as a facet of Durkheim's Cartesianized neo-Kantian
ism. Indeed, the philosophical assumptions of b o th these methodological
foci were idealistic or, in Durkheim's own term, "hyperspiritualistic." In
the context o f his idea of homo duplex, which identifl ed mind and society,
positivism and idealism related to aspects of the ideal, autonomous object
that society was for Durkheim.
In Durkheim's early thought, positivism was most pronounced. I t was
epitomized in the assertion in The Rules of Sociological Method that social
facts were to b e treated like things. By this Durkheim did not mean onto logi
cally to classify "social facts" among material things. But he did en join the
sociologist to adopt a methodological attitude of extreme obj ectivism in the
study of society. Perhaps the primary meaning of" social fact" for Durkheim
was the institutional norm. Yet in the study of the genesis, structure, and
functioning of institutions, Durkheim carried the analogical value of the
natural sciences to a point at which he tended t o deny t h e speciflcity of a
science of persons. Intentions were placed beyond the realm of scientifl c
enquiry. The idea that emp athy served as a means of understanding i n the
social sciences was rejected out of hand. And the specifl c nature of symbolic
activity in society seemed to be both emphasized, at times idealis tically
exaggerated, and denied, especially through misleading metaphors and
methodo logical injunctions.
Durkheim's early posi tivism presented society primarily as an "action
system," and structure as the essence of social facts. Methodologically, i t
focused upon two sorts o f causation (often conceived "mechanistically") :
e ffl cient and functional. It attempted to determine h o w "social facts" were
causally generated by antecedent conditions and how they functioned to
produce certain consequences in the social system. Sociology, paradoxi cally,
was to be restricted to a mechanistically causal explanation of the most
external, reified, and d epersonalized aspects of the ideal things constitutive
of social facts. T h e criteria of social facts were asserted to be exteriority and
constraint. And Durkheim held to a rather dissociated, if not schizoid, idea
of the relation of the inner to the ou ter, of"subj ective" experience and "objec
tively" observable b ehavior. This was the source of his freq uently confusing
pronouncem ents on the relati onsh i p of sociology t o psychology. Inn er,
subjective experience was ascribed to the individual and often assumed to
be objectively unknowable. Instead, Durkheim i n his early thought stressed
the i m p ortance of "hard" data, "morphological" indices, legal codes, and
statistical procedures. His idea of the relation between society and morality
emphasized fo rmal o bligation and duty.
Durkheim's early posi tivism at times culminated in an arid fo rmalism.

Homo duplex was divided further into an "outer" social self defl ned by insti
tutional norms and an "inner," hidden, neo-romantic or quasi-transcendental
individual self of ineffable subjectivity. Sociology amounted to an objectivist
study of the outer self and the structures that defined its external and con
strained relations with other selves and the material environment. Durkh eim's
early positivism may have stemmed in part from a mystified generalization
of the nature of experience in a society characterized by certain displaced
religious and i deological traditions and by extremely formal and markedly
bureaucratic relations. In his own France, the state, the military, the church,
and notably his own specific milieu - the state university system - were
highly bureaucratized. And the typical personality of members of his hyper
spiritualistic republican peer group displayed the dissociated combination of
a formal, constrained exterior and a repressed well of inner spontaneity and
private feeling.
A historical watershed in the development ofD urkhei m's thought was the
Dreyfus Aff.1.ir. It represented the breakthrough of community and idealistic
spontaneity in a structurally h i debound French society. And Durkhei m's sub
sequent thought tended to conceive of the individual in terms of the bodily
organism and to stress the "inside" of shared values in the collectivity. Para
mount was a concern for communal b onds, "collective representations," and
the subj ective desirability of i n ternalized values, especially in their relation to
symbolic cult and the sacred. But D urkheim often treated community, ideas,
and ideals in abstraction from operative institutions and practical realities.
Indeed, he at times envisioned ideals as the abstract objects of a vague, con
templative mystique and as phantom-like monuments situated on the horizon
of a hoped-for evolutionary development. And methodologically he insisted
upon an objectivist study of ideologies and ideals that provided little insight
into the relationship of the questioner to the questioned in social research or
the relationship of theory to practice in social action.
In h i s second a n d more dialectical tendency, Durkheim partially over
came a Cartesianized neo-Kantianism. H e attempted to relate the elements
and entities that he analytically distinguished. It is in the light of the more
dialectical strand of his thought that i t i s fruitful to understand his con
ception of the relation of philosophy to methodology and of theory to
practice. The notion that provided orientation in this respect was D urkheim's
I0 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
guiding metaphor of a tree of social life. This metaphor served as a logical

axis for the classifl cation of fo rms of human experience and entire social
systems. The trunk of the tree corresponded to the transhistorical conditions
of social and cultural life, while the branches represented different types of
soci ety. In the light of this model (or some more sophisticated analogue)
Durkheim's ideas were developed by his disciples, notably M arcel Mauss
and Claude Levi-Strauss. It was no accident that Mauss was reading Hegel
when he wrote his pivotal essay Le Don ( The Gift).
Considered dialecti cally, social structure constituted one crucial dimen
sion of human experience. But the broader problem was the comprehensive
study of forms and levels of symbolically informed experience and their
relations to anomie. I n h is core concept of anomie, Durkheim referred to
the social and cultural - per haps what one might call the existential - po
sition of people possessed o f (and frequently by) symbolism but devoid of
substantively limiting norms and meaningful paradigms that give a viably
coherent order to experience. Anomie disorientation, confusion, and anxiety
were basic causes of breakdown and of new creati o n in society.
The one question Durkheim never asked was whether the extreme ten
dency to decompose reality analytically was itself symptomatic of the extreme
dissociation of sensibility which he correlated with social pathology. Yet the
concepts of normality and p athology represented the second elementary
axis of Durkheim's thought which intersected the classifl catory axis of the
tree of sociocultural life . Indeed these concepts are crucial in the attempt
to situate Durkheim's thought in relation to a school which has frequently
taken him as a fo unding father: structurofunctionalism (which has at least
some resemblance to more recent forms of systems theory, for example,
in the work of Niklas Luhman). This school h as of course many internal
variants, which at times display signifl cantly different orientations. And the
entire perspective has been attacked by proponents of a sociology of conflict
as a theoretical excuse fo r a conservative ideology.9
On t h e questions b o t h of a structuralist methodology and the concepts
of normality and pathology, Durkheim did not display the degree of sophis
tication one might have expected of him. His ideas were rarely "clear and
distinct." They were often more nebulous than is expectable in an initial,
tentative, and exploratory statement. Allowing for this vagueness, one may
nonetheless attempt to articulate certain basic elements of his thought.
Chapter I Jntroduction II
There was indeed an important i f insuffl ciently defl ned sense in which
Durkheim's conception of the relationships among aspects of society was
structural and functional in nature. He attempted to see things whole and in
their actual and possible interactions with one another. More speciflcally, he
identified science with the attempt to show how an object of investigation
could be made to reveal systematic relationships, including the method in
social madness. Very often, these relationships were hidden and could b e
made manifest only through scientifl c investigation. Thus his conception
of rationalism, as well as his belief i n the existence of important analogies
between natural and social science, rested upon a notion o f !aws that com
prised structural models, functional correlations, and tendential regulari ties.
I n his own words, th ings social are "rational: by which one must simply
understand that they are linked to one another by de nite relations called
laws . " 1 0 On this basis, the most pertinent methodological similarity b etween
natural and social science was the status of the comparative method and
concomitant variation as the analogues in sociology of experimentation in
the natural sciences. Related to the role of the comparative method was
t h e use of statistical procedures in specifying the prevalence o f conditions
of social life and the direct or indirect consequences of the functioning of
social structures and symbolic systems.
The implication of the existence of defl nite relations among social and
cultural phenomena for rational prescription was the requirement that pur
poseful intention work with a defl nite, complex, and often little known reality.
Ignorance of typical relationships might frustrate human purpose through
the generation of unintended consequences. The only specifl city of society,
when compared with nature in this regard , was a greater range of what Comte
had termed "modi able fatality." D u rkheim believed fl rmly that socio logy,
in discovering the laws of social reality, would permit social agents "to direct
with more refl ection than in the past the course of historical evolution; for we
can only change nature, moral or physical, in abiding by its laws." Auguste
Comte, Durkheim himself observed, "even remarked with insiste n ce that of
all natural phenomena, social phenomena are the most malleable, the most
accessible to changes, b ecause they are the most complex." Thus D urkheim
could conclude that "sociology does not in the least impose upon man a pas
sively conservative attitude; on the contrary, it extends the fl eld of our action
by the very fact that it extends the fl eld of our science . "11
One cannot understand the sense in which Durkheim was a rationalist

or a conservative unless one understands his distinction between social
normality and pathology. Yet this distinction, which was essential to all
of Durkheim's work, has often been ignored, repressed, or rejected by
commentators and disciples alike. One general problem, of course, was
that Durkheim's ideas remained at the level of gross approximation. Here,
where careful and rigorous conceptual analysis should have been a fo remost
concern, Durkheim's ideas were little more than suggestive. And the very
appeal to medicalized concepts, relying on bi ological analogies, threatened
to obscure or naturalize the normative issues that were manifestly crucial
fo r Durkheim. Nor did he ever try to apply the concepts of normality and
pathology t o historical societies in a co m p rehensive and convinci n g way,
distinguishing, for example, b etween kinds and degrees of normality and
pathology. The chapter devoted to a sustained discussion of the normal
and the pathological in The Rules of Sociological Method, a chapter which
should have been the expression of Durkheim's intellectual powers at their
most imp ressive, failed even to formulate the principles operative i n his own
works. Instead of drawi ng together the various strands of his co n ception of
social structure and moral ity, the chapter relied excessively upon b i ological
analogies, of ten without indicating their relevance for social life . Except
for the concluding section on crime, the discussion of the normal and the
pathological in The Rules is probably the least successful piece of writing
and thinking in all of D urkheim's work. Since the distinction between
social normality and pathology was one of the fu ndamental postulates of
Durkheimism, I shall try to make explicit what remained largely implicit
in his writings. In this respect, I shall present Durkheim's conception of
normality and p athology in as useful and sympathetic a manner as possible,
although I find it preferable to avoid biol ogical or medicalized metaphors
and to employ clearly normative concepts i n addressing, however con
testab ly, ethical and sociopolitical issues.
The concepts of social norm ality and pathology referred to paradigms o r
models of social systems ( o r more delimited social settings) that had b o th
methodological and normative status. As instruments of investigation, they
enabled the formulation of problems within the overarching paradigm of
the tree of sociocultural life and made possible the discovery of relations
that might not be apparent to naive introspection or unguided empirical
Chapter I Jntroduction 13
observation. Their basis was the core problem o f Durkheimian sociology

as a whole: the dialectic of order and disorder, limits and excess, i n society
and culture. And they informed D urkheim's idea of the relation of theory
to practice. The characterization of a state of society as pathological implied
a critique and a call to acti o n .
Roughly speaking, the normal state was characterized b y a highly spe
cifl c, desirable sort of functional integration in soci ety. In the normal state,
conditions of social life were fl exibly controlled by limiting institutional
norms. Norms were in turn legitimated by values consensually accepted
as valid objects of commitment and solidarity b u t nonetheless challenged
by a dynamic, possibly creative leaven of anomie. Given the transhistori
cal conditions of social n o rm ality, t h e precise nature of the normal state
varied with different types of society. To the extent that i t corresponded to
the vital necessities of the various branches of the tree of sociocultural life,
moral relativism was understandabl e and j ustifl ed.
An undesirable condition of social pathology characterized states of society
beset with varying sorts of internal contradiction and runaway excess. Like the
normal phenomena of w h i ch they were the counterparts, pathological phe
nomena differed in content according to social type. Symptoms of pathology
on the most general level comprised social conflict in extreme, unregulated
forms, but they also included excessively high or low rates of deviance. Symp
toms were to be distinguished from causes, which resided in the faulted nature
of the social system itself and its bearing on the lives of members of society.
The concept of social pathology enabled Durkheim to combine a structuralist
m e thodology with the recognition of chaos, irrationality, and conflict in social
life. The most important requirement for analysis and prescription was to be
obj ectively clear about the fundamental causes of pathology i n society and
the most rational means of effecting a passage from pathology to normality.
It also required a strong distinction between social and individual pathology,
with excessive rates (in contrast to individual incidence) of the latter being
ascribed to social causes, not perso nal idi osyncracies or faults. Moreover, there
was nothing in Durkheim to support the belief that he defended penal sanc
tions or systematic repression as the appropriate responses to symptoms of
social pathology. On the contrary, he consistently invoked the principle that
institutional change alone attacked the causes of social pathology. Of course
a crucial, controversial question was what phenomena, even with respect to
rates and relations within the broader society, were seen as normal or patho
logical in fact and in right.
States of both pathology and normality were for Durkheim formally
rational in the sense that phenomena in them could be made to reveal in
telligible relations. There was method to social madness. It made sense, for
example, that certain pathological states of society would be characterized
by high rates of crime, suicide, and endemic violence. And means might b e
suited t o ends that were themselves pathogenic. But D urkheim d i d n o t argue
that anything that functioned in society was j ustifi ed - if by functioning i s
meant formal adaptation or efficiency i n maintaining a status q u o . O n the
contrary, only the normal state of society and fo rces adapted to its creation
or mainten ance were justified o r substantively rational. In the normal state,
conditions were "everything that they ought to b e . " In the pathological
state, they "ought to be other than they are." 1 2 The normal state of society
would h ave as the foundation of its structure a culturally relative variant
of practical reason that would function as the sole possible b as is for the
reconciliation of legitimate order and progress. Substantive rationality as
the basic p r i n c i p l e of social structure was, m oreover, the o n ly foundation
for commitment and solidarity in society as a whole. In the normal state of
society, the comcience collective would be the shared psychological ground of
practical reason and solidarity in the personalities of members of society: i t
would b e obj ectively real and subjectively internalized a t the same time.
The practical i m plications of Durkheim's ideas have b e e n the subject
of i ntense controversy. Most often, Durkheim has been seen as a conser
vative. In one important sense, this conception of D urkheim is correct. But
Durkheim's broader rationalist dream w a s to transcend partisan ideological
struggles and to forge a dialectical reconciliation of conservative, radical, and
liberal traditions in m odern thought. Scientifi c sociology, in Durkheim's
conception of i t , h a d this ambitious, perhaps unrealistic, rationalist dream
as its foremost practical goal.
One thing was b l i ndingly clear. Durkheim became i ncreasingly convinced
that modern society was significantly pathological. In what sense was he a
conservative? He was definitely not a reactionary traditionalist or, for that
matter, a protofascist. He did not advocate the restoration of monarchy,
feudal relations, aristocratic values, an established church, or medieval ver
sions of corporatism. Nor did he share the cultural despair of conservative
revolutionaries who felt an indiscriminate need to destroy all existing realities

in order to clear the ground for a conservative utopia. 1 3 His thought reveals
no parallel to the fascist combination of charismatic leader principle, elitism,
mass mobilization, mystical nationalism, scapegoating of an out-group, and
totalitarian integration of the in-group under racial (or other group) privi lege
and party dictatorship. Despite their idealized aspect, moreover, his studies of
"primitive" societies do not display the obscurantist sort of neolithic nostalgia
that might make the individual a dupe of authoritarian political movements
ostensibly holding forth the value of community.
In his own France, the viewp oint of Charles M aurras and the Action
Francraise, inspired by a reaction against the D reyfusard position and the
republican form of government which Durkheim supported, was antithetical
to his own outlook. Nor did Durkheim share with the authoritarian Comte,
whom Maurras followed, a h i gh estimation of what Comte called the "Im
mortal Retrograde School" of M aistre and Bonald. Comte, according to
D urkheim, was his master in sociology. And the "organic" conception
of society, which asserted the group to be "prior" to the individual, was
shared by a sociol ogical tradition that included Maistre, Bonald, C o m te,
and Durkheim. But D u rkheim departed fro m M aistre and Bonald, o n the
one hand, and fro m Comte, on the other, in his prescriptions for modern
society. When D urkheim referred to the reign of moral authority i n the
normal society, he referred to the impersonal authority of norms compatible
with autonomy and reciproci ty, not authoritarian h ierarchies or the elitist
s ubordination of certain groups to other groups i n modern soci ety. And
the rights of the individual were part and parcel of any legitimate modern
social order. His primary sources i n this respect were Kant and the Rousseau
whom Kant admired. Durkheim's rationalism served to obviate the anxiety
ridden longing for order that had prompted Comte to propose a rigidly
authoritarian system amalgamating cultural debris of the ecclesiastical past,
propheti cally technocratic features, and idi osyncrasies of his own personal
biography. For Durkheim, the institutional lessons of t h e past were relevant
to the present only i f they were adapted to the conditions and values of the
present, including democracy and the rights of the individual.
M o reover, D u rkheim did not believe that any status quo might be pre
sumed to embody the traditional wisdom of the ages that deserved to b e
transmitted with only minor m odifl cation fro m generation t o generati on.
This assumption applied i n variable ways only to the normal state of society
and h a d at best only limited application even to a transformed m odernity
in which there would continue to be a role for critical questioning. In a
pathological state, this assumption converted conservatism from a living
force into a tragicomic attitude detached fro m social realities and conducive
to stereotyped reactions to situations of crisis.
Durkheim was not a simple status quo conservative. He was what
may be called a philosophical conservative. He desired the emergence and
maintenance of a signifi candy stabilized state of society t h a t deserved to
be the b as is of historical continuity and personal commitment. D u rkheim
was not a p u re optimist. For him the perfect society was an impossible
dream. B u t he d i d affirm the value of a state of society that was relatively
harmonious and in which anomie was confi ned to marginal proportions.
I n this "normal" state of society, the minds and hearts of people would be
united, a n d freedom would be reconciled with a normatively ingrained
sense o f limits.
In the context of modern societies, Durkheim's conservatism was
discr i m i n atingly radi cal a n d often future-ori e n ted. He d i d see elements
i n modern soci ety that genuinely deserved to be continued, better coor
diiuted, and strengthened: constitutionalism, individual rights, social sol
idari ty, represen tative government, and a certain type of division of labor.
B u t he also realized that in certain areas of m o dern l i fe the basic problem
was the absence of legitimate traditions that might plausibly claim rational
commitment and "sacred" respect. In these areas, Du rkheim - as analyst,
prophet, and lawgiver - longed for the creation of institutions that would
bridge the gap between reason and sentiment and open the way to a livable,
stabilized social environment in which only the i n corrigibly criminal and the
extraordinarily creative would not be b asically conservative. Unlike many
conservatives in modern history, he d i d not reconcile himself to a position
of tragic resignation or resentful grumbling in the face of rapidly changing
realities that contradicted h is values. To achieve stab i l i zati o n , consensus,
and fl exibly traditionalistic ends in critical areas of society marked by sig
nificant, if "transitional," conditions of social pathology, he believed that
structural reform was imperative. In a sense, Durkheim was a structural
reformer selectively open to radical ideas s o that one day people might b e
authentically conservative i n good conscience.
Durkheim i s j ustly remembered as a severe critic of utilitarianism and

classical liberalism. But fro m the lib eral tradition he did accept the idea that
the highest values of modern soci ety include the rights of the individual
and parliamentary control. He also defended a specifl c sort of plu ralism
- what might be called a normative pluralism. He did not present the
competition of self-interested groups as the desirable end state of modern
society. This would amount to a substitution of sociological utilitarianism
for the individualistic utilitarianism of the past - a sociological utilitarian
ism that was often compatible with individual isolation and self-seeking.
Durkheim's concrete goal was the formation of co-op erative communal
groups controlled by norms under the aegis of the democratic state. This
was the basis of his defense of secondary groups mediating relations be
tween the individual and the state, notably in the form of a revitalized
corporatism resp ectful of individual liberties. What he radically rejected
in classical lib eralism was the anti-communal ideology that associated uni
versal h u m an rights and personal dignity with atomistic individualism and
self-centered egoism, especially in possessively economic forms. He came
to see u n l i m i ted growth, profit m a x i m ization, and u nregulated econo m i c
relations as crucial causes o f modern social pathology. I t might b e said that
Durkheim identifl ed the "economic rationality" of the economists with a
prominent case of social irrationality. For h i m , the individual referred to by
the principles of the French Revolution w a s n o t the acquisi tive calculator or
possessive individualist who looked upon life as an exercise i n pre-empting
things with a sovereign "mine." Ultim ately, Durkheim came to argue that
the valuable core of individualism was a humanistic, responsible autonomy
that complemented the commitment to community and reciprocity rooted
i n the conscience collective.
The most problematic elements i n Durkheim's practical ideas stemmed
fro m features of his thought which Karl Mannheim identifl ed as charac
teristic of liberal hum anitarianism . 1 4 These elements severely compromised
D u r k h e i m's structural reformism and his p h ilosophical conservatism . They
may be reduced to fo ur tendencies: ( 1 ) the tendency, especially in his early
thought, to provide an i ns u fficiently concrete penetration into the real
confl icts, tensions, and ambiguities of social life; (2) the tendency through
out h i s thought to neglect the problem of means of realizing the ends he
advocated; ( 3 ) the tendency, especially in his increasingly pronounced social
metaphysic, to indulge i n a vague, contemplative vision of ideals stand

ing above social realities; and ( 4) the tendency to rely on an evolutionary
optimism which envisaged a p rogressive approximation of these ideals in
some unspecifl ed future.
These tendencies might well have been embodied in a revisionist at
titude toward Marx, as they were to some extent in the thought of Eduard
Bernstein. In Durkheim, however, they were conjoined with what might be
called a ritual avoidance of M a rx Y For very often the absence of Marx or,
conversely, the hidden presence of Marx as a silent pariah interlocutor haunted
D urkheimism. When he did address himself to Marx's thought, Durkheim
attempted to situate Marxism as an ideology while ignoring Marx's theoretical
contri bution. T h i s attitude toward Marx exacerbated s o m e of the greatest
defects of Durkheim, especially his i nadequate treatment of the role of the
economy, of classes, and of group confl ict in social life. One problem to
which D urkheim never convincingly addressed himself was central: whether
a M arxist-type analysis (especially a critical theory of a market-based com
modity system) was in significant measure still relevant to the understanding
of enduring problems i n society under advanced industrialism, and, if it was,
how i t could be related to the issues which for Durkheim were paramount.
This was a problem that remained even if the conception of class confl ict and
its revo l u tionary potential in the specifl c form in which Marx presented i t
was becoming increasingly irrelevant. (It is also a problem that has acquired
increased salience since the collapse of existing communist states and the
triumphalist celebration of a seemingly fated conjunction of capitalism and
liberal democracy bound up with market forces.)
Like Marx, Durkheim tried to integrate a critique of political economy,
German speculative philosophy, and the French socialist tradition in a com
prehensive theory of the genesis and functioning of modern society. Again,
like Marx, he of ten perceived history - especially modern history - as the
story of social pathology. And, in contrast to theorists with a "value-neutral"
conception of social science, Durkheim saw a link between theory and prac
tice. But his antipathy toward Marx prevented a balanced estimate of Marx's
achievement and of the actual role off actors through which M arx explained
the historical process. Durkheim fel l far short of the profound feeling for
tragedy which dramatically informed Marx's reading of history, and which
gave an heroic cast to his idea of a dialectical "overcoming" of the burdens of
the past. Unlike Marx, moreover, Durkheim rarely displayed a telling sense
of the concrete with which to bring to life (and temper with life's nuances)
his analytical models and statistical surveys ; and he rarely was able to grasp
imaginatively the developmental possibilities o f a complex set of interacting
factors in society as a whole over time. One finds no Eighteenth Brumaire
among Durkheim's works. Marx had both an incisive sense o f history and
an almost cannibalistic sense of irony. D urkheim's more abstract and staid
approach lacked these cutting edges.
Significantly, D urkheim shared Marx's ideological blindness to questions
of gender and assumed a basically traditional role for women in society even
when his own analyses indicated the possibility of a critique of dubiously
gendered relations. "Man" in Durkheim, as i n Marx, can often be read literally
as well as metonymically. The M arx whom Durkheim especially abhorred
was the Marx who advocated class confl ict and violent revolution in modern
society. In contrast with Marx, D urkheim viewed modern society - and
particularly his own France, which was always his center of reference - as
suffering from severe but transitional symptoms of pathology and offering
the possi b i l ity of social justice without recourse to violent revolution. This
primary focus upon the conception of modern society as passing through a
pathological state of rapid transition on the way to normality was crucial for
the shape of D urkheim's thought as a whole. For Durkheim, modern society
was experiencing, not death throes, b u t prolonged and disruptive birth pangs.
Marx had mixed his metaphors and mistaken the nature and direction of
modern society.
If Marx was both too pessimistic in his idea of the historical evolution of
the industrialized West toward collapse (at least in terms of the precise pro
cesses he emphasized) and too optimistic i n his messianic faith in sociocultural
regeneration after apocalyptic upheaval, Durkheim combined extreme pes
simism about the potential of the individual "left to himself" with extreme
optimism concerning the ability of modern society to resolve the severe
problems presented to it in the course of h istory. This false optimism, which
vacillated between the mechanistically sober and the euphorically inflated,
generated in D u rkheim an air of complacency that was alleviated only by
genuine concern and a devotion to social action. D urkheim often seemed
able to snatch the spirit o f normality fro m the j aws of anomie. Despite his
sensitivity to possible abortive miscarriages i n the development of modern
society, he had an almost religious faith i n the evolution of modern society,

on the whole and i n good time, toward justice and reason. If D urkheim's
social idealism at times included elements of political nai"vete, h e at least
recognized problems in the modern status quo that certain of his epigoni
preferred to overlook. And the least questionable aspect of his faith in a strain
ing toward normality and social sanity in modern life was the assumption
that the reformer with constructive intentions - even when h e or she fai led
to be moved by the spirit - might be constrained to accept optimism as
somewhat a social duty.
A final remark should indicate the general conception of Durkheim's
thought which informs this study. The idea of sociology as a life science
i m p l i ed for Durkheim a fidelity to the living. In h is last major work, which
treated the vanishing religion of Australian aborigines, Durkheim seemed to
be very far from his initial i nspiration. In one sense, the very opposite was
true. In the opening pages of Les Formes t!lt!mentaires de Ia vie religieuse ( The
Elementary Forms ofthe Religious Life), Durkheim asserted:
Sociology raises other problems than h istory and ethnography. It does

not seek to know the bygone fo rms of civilization with the sole end of
knowing and reconstituting them. Instead, like every posi rive science,
it has as its object the explanati o n of a present reality, near to us and
thus able t o affect our actions: This reality is man and, more precisely,
the m a n of tod ay, fo r there is n o n e other whom we are m o re interested
in knowing. T h us, we w i l l not study t h e very archaic religion that is
our subject fo r the sole pleasure of recounting i ts b izarre and singular
features. If we have taken archaic religion as our object of research, i t
i s because i t appeared to u s more a p t than any other i n allowing us
to understand the religious nature of man, which is to reveal to us
an essential and permanent aspect of h u m a n nature. 1 6
The theoretical goal of The Elementary Forms was to arrive at a general

notion of culture and society through an intensive analysis of religious sym
bolism and its relation to solidarity. But the more specific object preoccupying
Durkheim was his idea of the "moral mediocrity" of modern society and his
desire to learn something of basic value from the "savages" b efore their forms
of life were uprooted by a civilization whose mode of advance was often symp
tomatic of its moral mediocrity. At times this intention of the moraliste led
Durkheim to perceive "primitive" societies through a superficial type of benign

reverse ethnocentrism: he focused upon abstracted features in "primi tive" life
which he felt were missing in modern society b u t vital to all normal society.
His analysis of religious belief and ritual in "primitive" societies reduced these
phenomena to selected aspects which accorded most with his lifelong moral
concern with creating legitimate institutions in modern society and his latter
day sensitivity to the universal need for signifi cant community. The Elementary
Forms was the summa of Durkheim's written works. In a larger context, i t was
but the preface to his might-have-been chef-d'oeuvre, "La Morale," which
Marcel Mauss accurately characterized as the "but de son existence, fond de
son esprit" (the goal of his existence, the substance of his mind). 17 A curious
abstractness reaching out with el usive feeling for human solidity in values and
moral solidarity in people; a Cartesianized, socialized, and so mew hat mystified
neo-Kantianism of a rabbi manque who had stoically imperturbable good will
- these were often the most apparent qualities of D urkheimism.
Notes
1. "Cours de science sociale: Leton d' ouverture," Rwue internationale de

f 'enseignement, XV ( 1 8 8 8 ) , 4 5 .
2. Letter t o Georges Davy; quo ted in Davy, "Durkheim," Revue ftanr;aise de
s ociologie, I ( 1 960 ) , 1 0 .
3. "Sociologie religieuse et theorie de Ia connaissance," Reuue de mhaphys ique
et de morale, XVII ( 1 909), 755-756.
4. Ibid. , p . 7 5 8 .
5. A superficial review of the major orientations and d i ffi culties of some of the
most important interpretations ofDurkheim will give the reader a sense of the
problem. In his monumental The Structure of Social Action (first pub. 1 93 7 ;
Glencoe, Ill.: Free Press, 1 949), Talcott Parsons presented Durkheim's thought
as caught in an unresolved tension between early positivism and latter-day
idealism as it tortuously worked its way toward convergence with other vol
untaristic theories of social action. (Parsons' ideas formed the basis for the
treatment of Durkheim in H. Stuart Hughes's infl uential Consciousness and
Society [New Yo rk: Knopf; 1 9 58] .) In his Es sais de sociologie (Paris: S irey, n.d.),
Georges Gurvitch saw in Durkheimism a denial of social science itself in the
attempt to construct a "metamorality." According to Gurvitch, Durkheim
transfi gured society into a modern contender for the traditional role oflogos.
In his idea of the relation of sociology to philosophy, Durkheim was like
Columbus, who discovered America while sailing for the Indies. G urvitch
denied the validity of the integral bond between methodology and philosophy
in Durkheim's idea of social science. With typical virtuosity, Claude Levi
Strauss has termed himself an "inconstant disciple" of Durkheim and has
treated his thought over the years with a combination of wholesale praise and
retail criticism. Still, his thought, like that of Pierre Bourdieu, would not be
conceivable without the role of Durkheim and the Annie school. Yet Ray
mond Aron, whose interpretive skill is often beyond comparison, gave what
seemed to be a counsel of despair. In his Eta pes de Ia pensee s ocio!ogique (Paris :
Callimard, 1 967), h e observed, after a s eriatim commentary on the texts, that
he had fo und himself fo rced to resort frequently to direct quotation, not to
illustrate substantive points of an argument but, o n the contrary, because
he felt "a certain difficulty in entering into Durkheim's way of thought, no
doubt because of a lack of sympathy necessary fo r understanding" (p. 360) .
In his important Emile Durkheim: His LUe and Work (London: Penguin,
1 973) , which appeared at about the same time as the original edition of the
Chapter I Introduction 23
present book, Steven Lukes employed a combination of analytic philosophy

in the parsing of Durkheim's concepts, neopositivistic empiricism in the
chronological reco unting of diverse biographical and contextual facts, and
synoptic content analysis in the reading of texts . The result is an encyclope
dic compendium fi lled with useful information but not itself informed or
motivated by a sustained, thought-provoking argument. See also the essays
in Emile Durkheim: Critical Assessments , ed. Peter Hamilton (London: Rout
ledge, 1 990) and Debating Durkheim, ed. \V'. S. F. Pickering and H. Martin
(London: Routledge, 1 9 94).
6. L e s Regles de Ia methode sociologique ( 1 5t h ed.; Paris: Presses U niversitaires de
France, 1 96 3 ) , p. ix.
7. "La Sociologie e n France a u XIXe siecle," Reuue bleue, 4th series, X I I I ( 1 900),
65 1 .
8. 0 n this problem, see Herbert Marcuse, Eros and CiZJilization (Boston: Beacon
Press, 1 9 5 5 ) , chap. ix.
9. Robert K . Merton's discussion probably remains the most concise and useful
examination of functional analysis i n socio logy. Merton stresses the impor
tance o f the concept of "dysfunction" for the study of social conflict (Social
Theory and Social Structure [rev. ed.; Glencoe, Ill.: Free Press of Glencoe,
1 9 64], chap. i; repr. as chap. iii of On Theoretical Sociology [New York: Free
Press, 1 967] ) . It would be interesting to relate Durkheim's conception of
anomie to recent approaches to trauma. On the latter issue, see my Writing
History, Writing Trauma (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press,
2 0 0 1 ) and His tory and Reading: TocqueZJille, Foucault, French Studies (To
ronto: University ofToronto Press, 2 0 0 0 ) . l ndeed trauma is an often socially
based, psychological dimension of extreme disorien tation on which Durkheim
touched but which he did not extensively explore.
1 0. "La Sociologie en France au XI Xe siecle," p. 649.
11. "Sociologie et sciences sociales," in De Ia methode d ans l e s sciences (Paris:
Alcan, 1 9 0 9 ) , p. 2 6 6 .
12. L e s Regles de Ia methode sociologique, p. 4 7 .
13. See Fritz Stern, T h e Politics of Cultural Desp air (first p u b . 1 96 1 ; Garden
Ci ty, N . Y. : Doubleday, 1 96 5 ) .
1 4. Ideology and Utopia (New Yo rk: Harcourt, Brace, 1 93 6 ) , p p . 2 1 9-229.
1 5. Durkheim's attitude was in marked contrast to Max Weber's open reckoning
with Marx. It is significant that Durkheim and Weber indicated no knowledge
of each other's work. See Edward Tiryakian, "A Problem fo r the Sociology of
Knowledge: The Mutual Unawareness of Emile Durkheim and Max Weber,"
A rchiZJes europeennes de sociologie, VII ( 1 966) , 3 3 0 - 3 3 6 . Tiryakian correctly
notes the reaso n why Durkheim and Weber should have been interested in
each other's work, e. g., their conviction concerning the importance o f religion
i n social lif e. But, in accounting for their "mutual unawareness," he stresses the
role of exogenous factors such as opposing national allegiances. He does not
investigate the relation of serious intellectual differences to "mutual unaware
ness" or, perhaps, mutual avoidance. One basic difference was on the issue of
the ethical neutrality of social science. One might hazard the generalization
that, on subjects extending fro m epistemology to politics, the differences
between Durkheim and Weber were between a thinker who was traditional,
philosophically conservative, optimistically reformist, and sometimes naive
and one who was modern, heroic, irreducibly tragic, and at times fatalistic.
(Tiryakian, in his Sociologism and Edstentialism [Englewood Cliffs, N .J . :
Prentice-Hall, 1 9 62] , gives a thoughtful, i f brief, analysis o f Durkheim's
thought, stressing the importance o f his conception of the relation between
society and morality.) Alvin Go uldner, i n his generally insi ghtful introduc
tion to Socialism (New York: Collier Books, 1 96 2 ) , makes two exaggerated
assertions that are opposed, if not contradictory, to one another. Go uldner
sees Durkheim as attempting to build a bridge between the traditions of
Comte and Marx in sociology. But he also presents Durkheim as concerned
with the "fi ne-tuning" of modern society. I would maintain that at least
some bases for integrating Durkheim and Marx do exist but that Durkheim
himself did relatively little to b uild upon them. This was true, for example,
of the problem of relating anomie to class or, more generally, group conflict.
But to characterize Durkheim's idea of needed reforms as "fi ne-tuning" is
extreme. Durkheim increasingly believed that the problems besetting modern
society were severe. One might well argue that his proposed reforms were
excessively vague or inadequate for solving the problems he perceived. But
they were basic, at least in certain respects. It i s true, however, that Durkheim
believed modern society would naturally evolve in the direction o f "normal
ity," certainly without violent revolution.
1 6. Les Formes elementaires de Ia vie religieuse (first pub. 1 9 1 2 ; 4th ed.; Paris:
Presses Universitaires de France, 1 98 0 ) pp. 1 -2 .
,
1 7 . " I n Memoriam: L'Oeuvre inedite de Durkheim et de ses collaborateurs, "

Amzee sociologique, n . s . , I ( 1 9 2 3 ) , 9 .
2
Durkheim's Milieu
Once one has established the existence ofan evil, what it consists ofand on what
it depends, when one knows in consequence the general characteristics of the
remedy, the essential thing is not to draw up in advance a plan which foresees
everything; it is to get resolutely to work.
- Suicide
To historicize D urkheim' s ideas by restricting their range to his own im

mediate experience and social context would obviously be to lose sight of their
broader relevance. But it is inform ative for reasons of h istorical perspective
to situate Durkheim in his own social milieu. And the effort is prompted by
Durkheim's tendency to take his own society as a test case of the needs of
modern society in general. The broadly ethical and philosophical impetus
behind D urkheim's thought must be in the forefront of any approach to his
ideas. For him the problem of a just social order in modern society presented
itself very much in the light of rational specification of the principles of the
French Revolution in terms which would enable people to humanize and
absorb the industrial revolution. The moral mission of sociology itself was
to provide, through an analytic and comparative study of institutions and
values, orientation in reaching this goal. By and large, Durkheim's life was
a subdued and intellectualized passion devoted to this task - scientific and
moral at the same time.
Durkh eim was born i n 1 8 5 8 in the town of Epinal, in the province of
Lorraine, and died in 1 9 1 7 . Ceded to the Germans in 1 87 1 , the Alsace-Lor
raine region housed both the most trad itionalist enclave of French Jewry and
one of the most ardent centers of F rench patriotism. It was returned to F ranee
only at the end of the First World War.
Durkheim grew up at a time when the Jewish ghettos of eastern France

were rapidly breaking up. 1 The disintegration of these communities posed the
threat of social unsettlement and personal disorientation which Durkheim
later was t o analyze i n terms of anomie. To this problem was added the loss
of patrie for those suffering the consequences of the Franco-Prussian War.
The early death of his father imposed upon the young Durkheim the
responsibilities of a chefdefomille. According to familial tradition, D urkheim
was destined to follow in his father's footsteps by becoming a rabbi. Of
course, h e was not to follow l iterally the wishes of his family. He was never
to make an express commitment to any established religious institution. But
those who found an agnostic temperament in Durkheim identified religious
sentiment with orthodox belief in a personal deity or with otherworldly
transcendentalism - questionable i dentifications that Durkheim took pains
to dispel in his own defi nition of the religious phenomenon. The relation
between religion and society that Durkheim tried to establish theoretically
had an analogue in the personality of this founder of modern sociology. The
one theme that recurs in the reminiscences of his friends is the profound
religiosity and t h e sense of mystique running like an undercurrent in h is
dialectical rigor and rationalism. As his close friend G e o rges Davy recalled:
"This convinced rationalist always kept, on the fringe o f the orthodoxy of
his milieu, a sort of fundamental religiosity which took on the allure of
mysticism when, with the impassioned ardor of a prophet, he expounded
his doctri n e . " 2 And here is the testimony of the fo under of the Revue de
nu!taphysique et de morale, Durkheim's good friend Xavier Leon: "This face
and this body of an ascetic, the glowing light of a look profo undly buried
in the orbit of his eye, the timbre and the accent of a voice animated by an
ardent faith that i n this heir of the prophets burned with the desire to forge
and temper the conviction of listeners . " l
One sequence of events in Durkheim's life stood out with special prom
inence. Durkheim was not known for his sense of humor or taste fo r irony.
In part, t h e lack was due to th e intell ectual purity, classical restrai nt, and
moral incentive of his thought. But Durkheim's outlook was also indicative
of a straitlaced tendency to identify seriousness of purpose with solemnity.
Davy has remarked that Durkheim's austere conception oflife "perhaps even
went to the point of preventing him fro m enjoying without scruples any
pleasure except the Spinoza-like j oy which is brought by enthusiasm for an
Chapter 2 Durkheim 's Milieu 27
idea."4 The sole recorded instance of humor and irony i n Durkheim's life
was self-directed, and i t i nvolved religi on. In a rare pun, Durkheim played
upon the ambiguity of the French word chaire ("academi c's chair," "church
pulpit"). Passing in front of Notre Dame Cathedral, Durkheim turned to a
colleague, Celestin Bo ugie, and remarked, "It's from a chair like that, that
I ought to be speaking."5
Durkheim's life seems dominated by a strong sense of discipline that kept
the man together while the academic moved steadily from rung to rung up
the professional ladder and ultimately to a professorship at the Sorbonne.
As a young man, however, Durkheim experienced a number of crises that
revealed how he combined a strong mind with a fragile and anxious spirit.
Under the influence of a Cath o l i c i n s tructress, fo r exam ple, he underwent
a passing i nfatuation with mysticism. 6 In Paris, h e prepared for the Ecole
Normale Superieure at the Lycee Louis-le-Grand and lived at the Pension
J auffret, where he formed his lifelong friendship with Jean Jaures. But his life
at the pension was full of anguish and left him w ith bad memories.7 He was
admitted to the Ecole Normale after having failed two years in succession
to place high e n ough in the entrance exam i n ation.
Durkheim en tered the Ecole Normale in 1 87 9 . "Lanson, S. Reinach and
Levy- Bruhl had j ust been graduated. Bergson, Jaures and Belot had entered
the year b efore. Rauh and Maurice Blonde! were to be admitted two years
later. Pierre Janet and Go b l o t entered along with Durkheim. It is not an
exaggeration, the refore, to say that a veritable philosophical renaissance was
germinating at the Ecole Normale . " 8 But once he was finally in the Ecole,
Durk h e im's attitude was highly ambivalent. In his last year a grave illness
which may have been psychosomatic in origin compromised his chances for
the agregation, in which he was nonetheless received next to last.'1
In retrospect, Durkheim felt that the Ecole Normale was a "scientific
and social milieu of exceptional value," and he sent his son there. 10 He
retained a lasting respect for two of his professors: the historian Fustel de
Coula nges and the p h ilosopher E m i l e Boutroux. To Fustel, who preceded
Durkheim in the advocacy of the comparative method and the conception
of the importance of religion i n social life, Durkheim dedicated his Latin
thesis on their common intellectual ancestor, Montesquieu. To Boutroux,
who impressed Durkheim most by his "penetrating and obj ective way of
reconstituting and rethinking systems, renewing and fo unding scientifically
before his students the history of philosophy, " 1 1 D urkheim dedicated his
thesis on "The Division of Labor."
At a deeper psychological level, however, Durkheim did not fl nd the
Ecole Normale altogether to his liking. The impressionistic humanism and
dilettantism which he had found repulsive in cagne (the high school class
preparing students fo r the Ecole Normale examination) were dominant
traits of the Ecole itself. More important, he instinctively drew back from
the supercilious snobbery and defensive air of noblesse o blige in an overly
self-conscious intellectual elite.
His intelligence, sober and avid for substantial truth, held in horror
the literary persifl age and ironic tone so often to be fo und in the
conversation of the students at the Ecole Normale [ normaliens] . . . .
"I h ave seen h i m ( M . Holleaux recounts) wish ardently for the end
of the school year, for vacation time, the moment when he would
be able t o live again among 'good simple people' (this was his ex
pression) . Absolutely simple, he detested all affectations. Profo u n dly
serious, h e hated banter [/e ton Ieger] .
If many of D urkheim's character traits recall the austere Kant, others bring
to mind Rousseau. One of the happiest times of his school years was when
he went into the streets to mingle with the effervescent populace during
the July 1 4 festivi tiesY The sense of communal warmth was a force which
was i ncreasingly to break through the Cartesianized neo-Kantian su rface
of his thought, through its cold veneer o f devotion to du ty. At the Ecole
Normale, moreover, Durkheim formed several lasting and genuine friend
ships. His friend Maurice Holleaux remarked that "few people really knew
him. Few realized that his severity covered almost feminine sensitivity and
that his heart, a stranger to facile effusions of sentiment, enclosed a treasury
of tender goodness." 1 3
Lines later written b y Durkheim himself about his good friend Octave
Hamelin could be applied to the attitudes of D urkheim's friends toward
their relationship with Durkheim himself. Hamelin had died prematurely
in an absurd attempt to save the lives of unknown drowning people in spite
of the fac t that he was unable to swim. Durkheim edited and made ready
fo r p u b l i cation the book on Descartes w h i ch Hamelin never completed. In
words that evoke the sanctity of intimacy in friendship, Durkheim wrote of
Hamelin: "As a man, we think that he belongs entirely to his friends, who
p i ously keep the cult of his memory. We would almost believe that we had
defiled his memory if we were to allow the public to penetrate the intimacy
of an existence which always Aed acclaim and which even hid itself from
the looks of others with a sort of jealous care. " '4
After leaving the Ecole Normale, Durkheim was granted a period of
relative respite to gather himself and h i s thoughts together. In accordance
with the traditional French practice that has to a signifi cant extent passed
out of existence, he began teaching at the secondary level b efore moving
on to the u niversi ty. If the primary and secondary levels in France repre
sented not stages in the educational process as much as different systems
of education h i g h l y stratified according to social class, t h e secondary and
the upper levels were strongly i ntegrated with each other. Indeed, certain
intellectual leaders of the time , such as Alain, preferred to remain at the
fycee level fro m a conviction that it was the locus of more authentic teach
ing. From 1 8 8 2 to 1 8 8 7 , Durkheim taught at the fycees of Sens, Saint
Qu entin, and Troyes. In 1 8 8 5 - 1 8 8 6 , he took a year off fro m teaching in
provincial fycees to study in G ermany. ' 5 T h i s trip was u n dertaken after a
conversation with Louis Liard, the Director of Higher Education (Directeur
de l 'Enseignement Superieur), a lifelong s u p p o rter of Durkheim. But i t
w o u l d b e a mistake to think that Liard showed any special o r conspirato
rial favoritism toward Durkheim. Rather, he saw in Durkheim a thinker
whose convictions and ideas coincided with his own deep commitment
to the renovation of the French educational system under the auspices of
the Republic. Liard had been struck in his o w n youth by the decadence
of e d u cation under the Second Empire, and he shared the belief of many
republican leaders that educational i n feriority had been a key factor in
France's defeat at the hands of the Germans. Thus Liard's fu rtherance of
Durkheimian sociology, while not a unique event in his actively i n nova
tive life as an administrator, was related to his idea of the institutional and
moral needs of the Republic.
In G e rmany, Durkheim studied social science and its relation to ethics,
primarily under the guidance of Wilhelm Wu ndt. He was considerably
impressed by the efforts of Albert Schaeffl.e and the "socialists of the chair"
to devise reforms of the economy in accordance with the demands of social
ethics. Yet he almost cut his visit short in order to return precipitately to
France because of an overly scrupulous fear that he would not b e able to

derive from his stay i n Germany all that h e expected. 1 6 Despite his anxiety,
publication of two articles based on his period of study i n Germany brought
Durkheim to the attention of the broader publi c Y The year 1 8 87 marked
the institution in France of the first university course in social science. It
was to be taught by Durkheim at the University of Bordeaux. The proposal
for this course was in all probability initiated by Alfred Espinas, the author
of Les Societes animales and himself a professor at Bordeaux, and it had the
support of Louis Liard. 18 The ministerial decree, dated July 20, 1 8 87, bore
the signature of Eugene Spuller, who ten years earlier had brought before
the Chamber of Deputies the projet de lo i of Jules Ferry on the reform of
h igher educati o n .
Just before the appointment a t B ordeaux, Durkheim h a d married. Ac
cording to his friend Davy, "His choice could not have been happier both
for himself and for the atmosphere of his work . " 1 9 The nature o f Durkheim's
marriage is a biographical topic deserving of further research, for we know
little about it. I suspect that Davy's statement endearingly covers a rather
trad itional relati onship in which the wife p layed a role one might perhaps
i n fer from Durkheim's treatment of (or significant silences concerning)
women in his published texts: a subordinate role, at times a telling absence,
in virtue of which women were confined to gendered activities assumed to
be in better keeping with their nature and aptitudes. In any case, his wife
apparently had primary conjugal responsibility in caring for the children and
the household while Durkheim was active as a scholar and a professional.
His wife's maiden name, portentously, was Dreyfus, but she does not seem
to have been related to the famous Dreyfus whose defense Du rkheim would
later take up. With her D urkheim had two children, a boy and a girl.
In a letter to M arcel Mauss (who once described Durkheim as "the pro
fessional conscience personified"),2 0 Durkheim wrote that he had "passed
his first year of teaching at the Faculty in a trance of unsuccess."2 1 But, once
agai n , Durkheim was b e i ng excessively uneasy. At about the age of t h i rty,
he started to acquire the security and stability that were probably necessary
for him to control his feelings of anxiety and begin a period of enormous
productivity and creativity.
The first ful l professorship and university chair i n social science were
created for Durkheim at Bordeaux i n 1 89 6 . In 1 902 , he received a call to
Chapter 2 Durkheim s Milieu 3I
Paris as a replacement for his fellow educator and friend Ferdinand Buis
son, who had been elected to the Chamber of Deputies. He was given
Buisson's chair in the Science of Education in 1 9 06. As Durkheim's disciple
Maurice Halbwachs later phrased it, sociology was not admitted directly
to the Sorbonne "but was introduced into it through the narrow gate of
pedagogy. " 2 1 Indeed, throughout his career Durkheim devoted from one
third to two-thirds of his teaching time to pedagogy. He did not look upon
this as a waste of time, for he approached education sociologically, as an
institution having the crucial function o f socializing the child into the larger
soci ety. By special decree in 1 9 1 3 , the title of his chair at the Sorbo nne was
changed to the Science of Education and Socio logy. Comte's neologism,
barbarically combining Greek logos and Latin societas, finally gained official
recognition in the University of France through the instrumentality of a
thinker who questioned the preponderant role of the classics in traditional
French education. Durkheim was awarded the Legion d'h omzeur but was
denied access to the Institut de France. Davy remarks that he received news
of both events with the same detachment. 2 3 He had achieved the essential;
t h e superfluous was unnecessary.
In Durkhei m's works, sociology underwent its "identity crisis." Hence
his tendency to assert militantly and even overstate his point of view. In
his own France, his attempt to fo und a discipline was so successful that his
sociology emerged i n time as somewhat a "collective representation." As
an historian sensitive to the importance of social theory observed almost a
decade after Durkhei m's death:
Such indeed has been the infl uence of Durkheim i n our University
that he seems to have monopolized sociology. The latter in our
mind is so closely b o und up with the work of Durkheim that we
have almost become unable to realize that it can have an existence
beyond his works and those o f his disciples. In our discussions, in
o u r manuals, Durkheimian sociology and sociology tout court seem
to be more and more synonymous. 24
Durkheim's intellectual life coincided with the fo unding and estab

lishment of the Third Republic, whose initial and more optimistic phase
came to a tragic end, like Durkhei m's life itself, with the traumatic shock
of World War I . The events which heralded the coming of the Republic
- the debacle of the Franco-Prussian War, followed by the agony of the

Paris Commune - were i nterpreted by many republican leaders as evidence
of the internal instability of the Second Empire rather than as inauspicious
indices of continuing foreign and domestic problems.25 Despite the almost
mystical optimism engendered by the mere durability of the first long-lived
democratic republic in French history, Durkheim himself placed at least
the recurrent domestic upheavals in France in the larger context of the
industrial revolution and the turbulent wake of the French Revolution. As
he observed of Saint-Simon's long-range, structural theory of European
and especially French history, which presented the Revolution of 1 78 9 as
a phenomenon which had destroyed certain vestiges of the o l d order b u t
which h ad miscarried i n t h e creation of the new:
[After the Revolution] royal authority was re-estab lished. But these
revivals of the past did not constitute a solution. So the problem is
posed on the morrow of the Revolution, at the start of the nineteenth
centu ty, in the same terms as on the eve of 1 7 8 9 , only it has become
more pressing. The denouement is more urgent i f one does not wish
to see each crisis produce another, exasperation the chronic state
of society, and finally, disintegration more or less the result. Either
completely restore the old system or organize the new. It is precisely
this that is the social problem.
As we view it, it cannot be posed with greater profundity? 6
In the excellent j u dgment of David Thomson, "The Third Repub

lic . . . was at heart an attempt to reconcile the confl icting fo rces of modern
France."27 The republican ideal of a j ust modern consensus healing the
wounds of history found no more ardent proponent than Durkheim.2 8 In
his i naugural lecture at Bordeaux, Durkheim stated his i n tensely moral goal
in no ambiguous terms:
Our society must restore the consciousness of its organic unity . . . .

No doubt these ideas will become truly effi cacious only if they spread
out into the depths of society, b u t for that it is fi rst necessary that we
elaborate them scientifically in the u ni versity. To contribute to this
end to the extent of my powers will be my principal concern, and I
shall h ave no greater happiness than if I succeed in it a little.29
The realities of the Third Republic were o f course less elevated, and
its operational consensus proved to be purely negative. Astute, if cynical,
observer-participants like Adolphe Thiers were able to see this fro m the very
beginning. The m o n archist Right, which in the 1 870s had proved unable
to settle upon a compromise fo rmula reconciling the houses of Bourbon
and Orleans, accepted the Republic faute de mieux. After the Dreyfus Af
fair, resistance fro m the Right b e came increasingly militant. The far Left
was equ ally unable to propose a constructive alternative to existing policies.
Between these two extremes, most of those who agreed upon a democratic
and republican form of government did so with the tacit assumption that
politics would not disturb the basic configuration of vested interests in
society. Symboli cally, the French legislature held its meetings i n a "house
without windows." French labor legislation remained the most backward
of the "advanced" industrial societies. And French society continued to
be highly gendered and stratifi ed, with little equality of opportunity, less
equality of reward, and no positive consensus on the legitimate n ature of the
social structure or political regime. The b oundaries of invidious distinction
between socially distant and uncooperative cl asses continued to b e defined
with rhe Cartesian rigor so accurately described b y Tocqueville in his Ancien
regime. The youthfu l promise of the Republic turned i n creasingly into the
senile reality of a detached, deadlocked democracy superimposed upon a
stalemated society.30 In this context, there was little chance of developing
social and p o litical institutions which could viably control the disruptive
effe cts of the industrial revolution: memories of the great Revolution cre
ated expectations which heightened unrest.
The precise nature of the economy and of its impact upon society in
Durkheim's France is a complex subject that engages experts in debate. In
the famous dictum o f ] o h n Clapham, France underwent industrialization
without having a full-fl edged i n dustrial revolution.3 1 The rate of economic
change in France until the 1 9 50s was not comparable t o that of G e rmany
or England, but the degree of disparity has o ften been exaggerated.
Durkheim tended to see the problem of industrialization within the
broad context of modern society as a whole. B u t , during his own lifetime,
the rate of change i n F ranee itself, especially in the concentration of indus tty,
was probably more rapid than it had ever been, and its effects were quite
perceptible to the sensitive observer. I n fact, the unbalanced nature of the
economic transformation i n France exacerbated problems common to all

industrial societies. The one area of modern l i fe in which the family retained
extensive social control in France depended on the role of the bourgeois
family firm in the economy.32 In the large sector of the economy dominated
by relatively small family firms, production was restricted and prices were
kept high to defend the social position and honor of the family unit. Thus
workers were deprived even of the gains they might have expected fro m
increases i n productivity and t h e imperatives of mass consumption i n a
privately owned and operated economy.33
In a famous critique of the Annee sociologique school, A. L. Kroeber stressed
the repugnance of the Durkheimians for field work.34 E. E. Evans-Pritchard
took up this plaint and extended its scope: "One sometimes sighs - if
only Tylor, Marett, Durkheim and the rest of them could have spent a few
weeks among the people about whom they so freely wrote!"35 Whatever the
justice of this sentiment with respect to Australian aborigines or American
Indians, it overlooked the fact that a sociologist like D urkheim did have a
direct "field" experience of one massive phenomenon in world history: the
transformation of modern societies through industrializati on.36The attempt
to make sociological sense of the complex events he beheld firsthand was basic
to Durkheim's De La Division du travail social and Le Suicide, and it remained
a fundamental issue in his Les formes elementaires de la vie religieuse.
Within the context of his own society, D urkheim's intent was to eliminate
the basic causes of social "pathology" and propose ways to achieve a positive
consensus through the viable realization of values adequate to the conditions
of modern social life. Although his own sphere of immediate concern was
largely confined to the educational system, D u rkheim did not believe that
reforms restricted to the initiatives of an educational and scientific estate were
sufficient. He undoubtedly shared Gambetta's b elief that a democratic repub
lic could not endure "without distributing education with both hands."37 But
Durkheim recognized clearly that uncoordinated partial responses to major
social problems would in all probability aggravate pathological conditions
instead of alleviating them. Changes i n education and in the social attitudes
of educators could be effective only in conjunction with changes of a basic
structural nature in the primary source of social problems in modernity- the
economic and occupational spheres. Durkheims corporatist proposals were
addressed to this problem.
A measure of positive consensus stemming fro m similar social origins

and philosophical convictions did characterize the educational leaders who
formed D urkheim's immediate reference group. One fact emerges when
one examines the b ackgrounds of key figures in the educational system
who, like Durkheim, were genuinely committed to working toward the
creation of a social and political order based u p o n republican ideals. I n
disproportionately signifi cant numbers, they were self-made men fro m
marginal s o c i a l groups i n traditionally Catholic a n d status-conscious
France. These men were afforded the opportunity to rise to positions of
prominence in the nation through the involvement of more traditional
elites i n the vicissitudes of the Second Empire, the futile maneuverings
of pro - m o n archists in the 1 870s, and, most i m p o rtant, the allegiance of
traditional elites to anti-republican ideologies. With the achievement of
established positions, these newer men assumed an attitude of" reasonable"
reformism that, especially after the Dreyfus Affair, was i ncreasingly open
to the infl uence of mysti que.
Durkheim and certain of his collaborators on the Annee sociologique
were of Jewish a n cest ry. We have already n o ted Durkheim's rabbinical
heritage, which was shared by his nephew Marcel Mauss. We know,
moreover, the primary scientifi c importance Durkheim attributed to the
Annee sociologique: " B ecause it embraces the entire domain of science,"
Durkheim wrote, "the Annee has been able, better than any special work,
to impart the sentiment of what sociology must and can become."38 B u t
aside fro m its scientific importance and its r o l e i n the Republic, t h e A n nie
school fo rmed "almost a spiritual family united by the bond o f a common
method and a common admiration for its maitre. "39 This "little society
sui generis, the clan of the Annee sociologique,"40 seemed to represent in
the minds and h e arts of its members a prototype of what the professional
group could be in modern society - a supplementary kinship, a truly soli
dary corps combining community and a mutual respect fo r individuality.
As Marcel Mauss recalled: " T h e A n n ee was not sim ply a publication and
the work of a team. Around i t we formed a 'group' i n all the force of the
term . " 41 In sharp contrast with the psychoanalytic movement, the A nnee
school was not marked by extreme sibling rivalry and revolts against the
symb olic father. (It was also less compli cated and representative of the
larger society than the psychoanalytic movement, for example, in that i t
contained no women and generated n o significant internal challenges to

D urkheim's authority.) For its members the Annie seemed almost to b e an
intemporal moment p arfait.
Jules Ferry, perhaps the foremost figure i n educational reform under the
Third Republic, d i d not quite fit into the pattern of the "marginal man."
From the upper-bourgeois Protestant establishment in the Vosges, he mar
ried (late in life) a woman fro m the Protestant patriciate of Mulhouse.
But the men with whom he surrounded himself were largely fro m smaller
Protestant families, and they were more impregnated than the rather bu
reaucratic "cold fi sh" Ferry with the pietist spirit fo und in Kant himself. Of
the men assisting Ferry, especially significant was the trinity of Ferdinand
Buisso n , J u l es Steeg, and Felix Pecaut.42
These three came to France fro m Switzerland. Steeg and Pecaut had
been Protestant m i n isters, and Buisson a teacher. Ferry appointed Buisson
("my very dear friend, the apple of my eye") Director of Primary Education.
His role in the Republic has b een described as that of "lay high priest."43 In
1 8 9 8 he was elected president of the Ligue pour Ia D efense des Droits de
! ' H o m m e (League for the D efense of the Rights of M an ).44 This voluntary
association, of which Durkheim was an active memb er, had been founded
by Clemenceau during the D reyfus Afir to combat the anti-Dreyfusards.
Buisson had been appointed in 1 8 9 6 to the chair in the Science of Education
at the Sorbonne, where he was replaced upon his election to the Chamber
of Deputies i n 1 902 b y Durkheim.
Jules Steeg also became a deputy, and finally Inspector G eneral of Pub
lic Instruction. Into the task of developing a program of moral and civic
instruction in the school system, he poured his immense store of spiritual
e nergy. Like Durkheim, he was the author of w orks o n moral education.
Prominent among his contrib utions to this favorite genre of the period was
a Cours de morale a !'usage des instituteurs.
Perhaps the most interesting figure i n this group was Felix Pecaut. He
was the exemplar of neo-Kantian morali ty, liberal Protestantism , t h e culte de
la patrie, and a democratic civic spirit. H e was appointed by Ferry to head
the ecole normale for institutrices at Fontenay-les-Roses, one of the schools
designed to free the women of France fro m the i nfl uence of the Church.
Fontenay-les-Roses has been described as "the sweet lay convent where
Pecaut was the fl sher of souls."45 Pecaut was the author of a very interest-
ing article on Durkheim, which seized with penetration the contemporary

import of D urkheim's theory of religion that was of special interest to men
like himself:
The secret finality [of rites] was not to be expressions of faith b u t

t h e means b y which t h e moral experience i s created a n d re-created . . . .
In the heart of religion, one always fi nds the multiform experience
of the moral conscience . . . . In our time we have asked o urselves if
a morality without religion could j ustify i tself in the eyes of reason
and especially i f it could take hold of men's hearts. To this troubled
question, Durkheim answers that there is only one morality, created
by society, but which may be thought either theologicaly or positive&,
that is with reference either to G o d or to s o ciety . . . . The d i fference
is in the form of the representation, not in its object . . . . And how
could posi rive morality fai l to act upon men's hearts, since at the
basis of religion, there is unknown t o it the action upon individual
consciences of the collective conscience?46
Two men were above all others i nstru m e n t a l 11 the d i ffu s i o n of

Durkheimian sociology and social philosophy throughout the educational
system: Louis Liard and Paul Lapie. In addition to the contexts in which
he has already been mentioned, Liard had a hand in the introduction of
Durkheimism in secondary schools before World War I . Furthermore, he
invited Durkheim to lecture at the Ecole Normale Superieure to candidates
for the agregation. From these lectures came the posthumously published
Evolutio n p t!dagogique en France ( 1 9 3 8 ) . Paul Lapie came under Durkheim's
infhtence as a professor at B o rdeaux, and he subsequently became an active
member of the Annee sociologique school. He continued Durkheim's work
as Director of Primary Education, rector of the Academy of Paris, and edi
tor of the Revue p edagogique. After World War I , his great innovation was
the introduction of Durkheimian sociology into the curriculum of insti
tuteurs i n the state normal schools. Thus Durkheim's ideas could b e fou n d
at all levels o f t h e educational system. A critic o f the r i m e observed: "The
requirement that M. Durkheim's sociology be taught in the two hundred
normal schools of France is among the gravest perils to w hich our country
is subjected."47 Even the s h arp and witty Th ibaudet remarked, in his Re
p ublique des proftsseurs:
The introduction of the teaching of sociology i n our normal schools

for imtituteurs by Paul La pie, upright and militant layman [laique ],
the lineal descendent o f the Buisson, Pecaut, and Steeg of the Re
public, m a rked a m ost i m p o rtant date on the sundial of republican
spiritual power. Through this measure, the state, in its schools, fur
nished to imtituteurs what the Church in its seminaries fu rnished to
the adversaries of the imtituteurs: a theology. Lapie beli eved that the
instituteurs would react criti cally to this teaching. Not at all. They
reacted theologically. 48
To appreciate the element of truth in Thibaudet's characterization of the

fu nction o f D u rkheimism among imtituteurs, one need only read the actual
statement of a teacher who enunciated the lesson he derived fro m Durkheim:
'"D urkheim? ' certain people sneer. 'That no longer catches on. Speak to us
of neo-Thomism.' I'm not disturbed by this attitude. The vain resurrection
of old medieval catechisms will long h ave disappeared when Durkheimism
will still be standing."49
The personalities and ideas of the professor-philosopher-administrators
Liard and Lapie show the extent of their afflnity with Durkheim. 50 Louis
Liard is often credited with h aving made over the universities i n France
almost single-handedly. In his Souvenirs d' unepetite enfance, Liard described
with warmth his adolescence i n Falaise, Normandy: his love for churches
b u i l t in the M iddle Ages, the wooden houses dating fro m t h e flfteenth
century, the ruins of the castle of the dukes o f N o rmandy, and above all the
old college built in the shadow of the ancient fortress. His own instituteurs
instilled i n him a taste for study through their selfl ess devotion to a calling
devoid of personal ambition and a concern for getting aheadY
In 1 8 6 6 (with the same promotion as Buisson), Liard entered the Ecole
Normale Superieure and became a disciple of Jules Lachelier, and, through
him, of Renouvier. Liard's thesis, " G eometrical Definitions and Empirical
Definitions," was an excellent expression of the Cartesianized neo-Kantian
ism of the Republic; i t was dedicated to Lachelier. Another work, Positive
Science and Metaphysics ( 1 8 7 8 ) , centered on the idea that "to negate the
reality of the ideal is to negate our own reali ty. " Liard went o n to argue i n
very Durkheimian fashion that "the social fu nction of metaphysics i s to
keep up the faith in an ideal and to arrest two contrary but equally deadly
errors: the weakening of activity and utilitarian fever."52
Under the Second Empire, Liard bad been so militantly republican that
he was dismissed fro m his E rst teaching position and kept constantly under
the surveillance of the imp erial police. When he became, like Durkheim
and La pie after him, a professor at Bordeaux, h e was overwhelmed by the
parlous state of higher education. In his Histoire de l'enseignement superieur
(History of Higher Education), he described how courses were opened up
to the general public i n order to E ll seats for which there were not enough
students. The audience recruited in this way was a curious medley of bon
bourgeois with nothing to do and beggars in search of a warm place for a
few hours. Liard's taste for organization manifested itself at B o rdeaux, where
he not only recast the structure of his own courses b u t also drew up plans
for the new Faculty of Medicine a n d Pharm acy. H e fo llowed "always t h e
same method: a priori determination of the n e e d s o f each Faculty i n order
to deduce the proper installations." In L iard's own words, "The method
of my administrative work has always been the Cartesian method."53 At
the request o f Ferry, the post of Director of Higher Education which was
vacated in 1 8 8 4 was fllled by Liard. " ' Yo u will make the French universi
ties,' Jules Ferry h ad t o l d hi m . That was exactly what he wanted t o do."54
Subsequently ( 1 902- 1 9 1 7 ) , Liard was rector of the University of Paris,
a position in which Lapie was to succeed h i m . If the method of his ad
ministrative work was Cartesian, its guiding principle was a variant of
D urkheim's "organic solidarity. " From the lowest to the highest level and
through o u t all departments and faculties, the University of France was to
be characterized by solidaristic cooperation among its d i fferentiated parts
in order to ensure "the realization of a superior fu nction - the intellectual
and moral l i fe of the nation."55
Like Durkheim, Liard had been left fatherless very early i n life. His
m o ther, of old Norman stock, was tender and austere, and lived constantly
with the idea of death. She had even selected the wood for her coffl n . "She
taught her son that one thing was worse than death. Watching a funeral
p rocessi o n pass by in fro n t of them , she said: 'I would rather see you bur
ied than see you fail to do your duty' ."56 After a life of duty and devotion
to a cause, Liard experienced World War I as an unbearable shock which
hastened his death. He consented to being con ned to bed on! y when
"the categorical imperative commanded h i m to retire." In 1 9 1 7 , he died
of "total exhausti on. "57
The son o f an instituteur, Paul Lapie retained throughout his l i fe the

mystique of the e d u ca tor's calling with which h i s father had imbued him.
Andre Fontaine recalled that when Lapie was first appointed a ycee pro
fessor, Fontaine had remarked: "I d o n't know what Lapie's career will be,
but I see him very well in the position of Liard . . . . At that time as always I
b e l i eved Liard to b e the greatest university leader we have ever h a d . "58 As a
professor at B o rdeaux and as a high administrative official, La pie continued
to seek the society of humble imtituteurs, and h e genuinely shared their
serieux de la vie. H e combined the typical republican personality traits of
a n austere exterior and repressed sentiment: for him too the categorical
imperative was a sort of symbolic father. F elix Pecaut recalled the impact
on republican intellectuals of Lapie's editorial i n the Revue p edagogique
entitled 'Soyons durs' ['Let's Be Hard' ] . Hard on o urselves - that goes
without saying."59 On the desk in his offi ce Lapie kept a photograph of
Victor Brochard, a blind paralytic teacher who continued to give his courses
until his death.
La pie made trips to The Hague to honor the memory of perhaps his
favorite philosopher, Spinoza. His thesis was entitled "The Logic of the
Will." In it, he defended the proposition that the will in the service of reason
always tends toward j usti ce and self-sacrifi ce. He rejected the utilitarian cor
relation of reason, will, and self-interest. Under the influence o f D u rkheim
a t B o rdeaux, La pie became attached t o the idea that logic and social ethics
had to be sociologically fed by facts and comparative analyses. He went
on to write Timisian Civilization , Women and the Family, Fo r Reason (on
the rationalist function of secular education), and, after the D reyfus Af
fair, justice through the State. I n the last work, La pie argued that the role
of the state was n o t to increase its own power or to maximize individual
economic activity. It was to assure the reign of j ustice. Judicial authority
was the very prototype oflegitimate public authority i n the struggle against
injustice. This doctrine implied the necessity of an economic "magistracy"
of the state to fur ther social justice.
A tireless worker, Lapie "was hard to the point of dying fro m it, and
when he finally consented to being confined t o bed, it was never t o rise
again." 6 0 O n his deathbed, La pie uttered the sentence: "This bed tyrannizes
over me."61 O n e of the last t i m es L a p i e left home in s p i t e of severe i l lness
was to go to the Societe Franc;:aise de Philosophie t o hear a report o n the
teaching of French i n B u e n o s Aires.
Chapter 2 Durkheim s Milieu 4!
A personality type emerges almost o f its own accord from these

sketches of republican educators and intellectuals who were D u rkheim's
peers. B u t a b i t more attention must b e p a i d to their attitudes and ideas.
Within the relatively stabilized context of the Third Republic, Durkheim
and his peers constituted a reform group that sought structural consensus
without resort to violent revolution. The Weltanschauung of republican
leaders was a n amalgam of liberal democracy, neo-Kantian spiritualism,
and "an immense and grave patriotism, a passionate and somewhat sad
attachment to a patrie which they wished to make more beautiful, greater,
more worthy, and more self-conscious than i t is. "62 The Rep ublic was n o t
only the bureaucratic provider o f careers t o satisfy all legitimate ambitions;
i t was to provide "a great a n d efficacious lesson in m o ra l digni ty. "63 T h e
moral philosophy of Kant, which was dominant among republican intel
lectuals, had received its more Cartesian, readily assimilable, and socially
relevant formulation in the works of Charles Renouvier. Indeed, the i d e as
of Renouvier played for the short-lived democratic republic of 1 8 4 8 a role
similar to the ideas of Durkheim in the Third Republic. For what i t was
wo rth, a co n t e m p o rary mot had it t h at " Durkh e i m i sm is sti ll Kantianism
but reviewed and completed by Comteanis m . " 64
The resultant was a crystallization of the archetypical idea of the repub
lican institution that would assure social consensus and solidarity through
a coordination of the educational system, the occupational sphere, and
the state under the supreme auspices of a humanistic, universalistic p u b l i c
philoso phy. Within t h i s ideological context, o n e can see clearly emerging
an ecumenical spirit in religion and philosophy as well as a reorientation
of liberal Protestantism i n the direction of civic consciousness, community
spirit, and even a socially, morally, and aesthetically grounded interest in
ritual. Moral philosophy increasingly became the religion of mass democ
racy and its conception of the essence of all religion. The Enlightenment
nexus of philosophe and citizen replaced the medieval u n i o n of priest and
king and, one might add, t h e m o re pri m i tive b o n d between poet and
sorcerer.
The pedagogical effect was the perception of moral education as the
common core of all education. And sociology, for Durkheim, had an
intimate relation to p edagogy insofar as sociology was a ground work for
moral education. D urkheim took as h i s own special task the attempt to
"discover the rational substitutes for these religious notions which for so
long h ave served as the vehicle for the most essential of moral ideas. "65
B u t a rational conception of morality could n o t merely cut away religious
beliefs. The one Comtean dictum Durkheim always upheld was the idea
that one should destroy only what one could replace. This dictum dis
tanced him from a variant of anarchism prevalent at his time and quite
important i n French intellectual and cultural history down to the pres
ent.66 Although Durkheim at fi rst conceived his project as an attempt to
present moral forces in their "rational nudity . . . without recourse to any
mythological intermedi ary," his idea of rationalism was later expanded
to include a type of mythology which, in his eyes, complemented reason
instead of contradicting it. Society itse lf, in his thought, e m e rged at times
as an object of belief or even a mythical enti ty.
Within the republican institution and its rationalist cult, the function
of the teacher as a consensus builder became central. As Durkheim saw it,
the teacher's mission was to select and disseminate "those principles which
in spite of all divergences are from this time on the b asis of our civiliza
tio n , i m p l i citly or explicitly co m mo n to a l l , and which few would dare to
deny: respect for reason, for science, for the ideas and sentiments which
are the b asis of our democratic m orali ty. "67 The aura of mystique which
enveloped this conception of the educator's function i s diffi cult to convey.
In a magnifi cent phrase o f C anivez, the classroom was "le lieu de discours
retenus" (the place for hushed discourse).68 For Durkheim, as fo r s o many
other republican intellectuals, the teacher gathered u p in his chalk-marked
hands the lingering strands of the sacerdotal traditi on:
What constitutes the authority w h i c h colors s o readily the word of

the priest is the elevated idea h e has of his mission; for he speaks in
the name o f a god in whom h e believes and to whom he feels closer
than the crowd of the profane. The lay teacher can and must have
something of this sentiment. He too is the o rgan of a great moral
person who transcends him: this is society. Just as the priest is the
interpreter of his god, so the teacher is the interpreter of the great
moral ideas of his time and country.69
Thus t h e unique, sym b o l i cally charged contribution of D u rkheim to

republican ideas was the elaboration of a relatively consistent theory of
Chapter 2 Durkheim s Milieu 43
morality as the institutional and ideological basis o f solidarity in society.

Not all republican intellectuals who constituted D u rkheim's privileged
audience agreed w ith this conception of morality. The fine fleur of French
neo-Kantian spiritualism subjected Durkheim to a constant b arrage of
criticism, including face-to-face encounters i n the Societe Fran c;:aise de
Philosophie. This reaction t o Durkheim manifested the tenuous basis of
consensual pub lic philosophy among educators in a country like France,
where despite - or perhaps b ecause of - the extremely centralized and
bureaucratized educational system, thinkers have a penchant for dialectical
disagreement if only for the sake of m arginal differentiation. Durkheim's
celebrated "Determination du fai t moral" of 1 90 6 (included in his Sociologie
et philosophie) provoked an exte nsive "oui, mais" type of discussion that cov
ered approximately one hundred densely printed pages of the Bulletin de !a
Societe Fram;aise de Philosophie. The evocation of his own lycee education by
the last o f Durkheim's truly militant disciples i n France, Armand Cuvillier,
is signifi cant in this respect. Instead of concentrating on the social context
of morality i n D urkheimian fashion, his philosophy professor, the gadfly
G ustave Belot, would direct h is "sarcasms against the 'conscience collective,'
which he called 'l'i nconscience collective,' and against those states of primi tive
conformism where 'everybody admits what n o one has really thought' ."70
The criticisms of Durkheim by his contemporaries were often cogent
and induced by the ambiguities of Durkheim himself, which at times were
great enough to qualify him as whipping boy in introductory philosophy
classes. Subsequent criticisms have often unknowingly recapitulated ideas of
Durkhei m's own peers. Indeed, the charge of sophistry had sufficient staying
power to receive an echo in Raymond Aron's 1 9 67 analysis of D u rkheim's
thought.7 1 But something more must have been involved in the reluctance
of Durkheim's contemporaries to separate his b asic point of view fro m the
terminological husk in which it o ften was conveyed.
The fundamental reason was that members of the republican elite were
often committed to spiritual and moral variants of extreme individualism
that at times implied a secularized Protestant metaphysic. The relationship
b e tween the individual and the ideal was conceived on the model of a n un
mediated nexus having little to do with solidarity in society. This tendency
was manifested in the infl uential metaphysic of Bergson's Two Sources of
Religio n and Morality ( 1 9 3 2 ) , written partially i n reaction to Durkheim's
Elementary Forms o[the Religious Lfe ( 1 9 1 2) . And one fou n d the taste for
the individualism of an inwardness transcending society even in the doc
tri n e of Alain, with its practical reformulation of the Cartesian mind-body
dualism. Alain presented the role of the individual in society as a negative
conformism which said "yes" with the body to external constraints, b u t an
eternal, soul-saving "no" with the spirit. Such notions generated resistance
to Durkheim's idea that society was a solidary whole greater than the sum
of its p arts and to the analytic concepts which made theoretical sense of
this idea: social structure, conscience collective as its psychological ground i n
the personality, norm, a n d type. Durkheim, in brief, tended to shift Kant's
noumenal sphere in the direction of the conscience collective of society and
to situate the transcendental ego as a subject com m un icating with other
subjects in society. Indeed, secular debates a b o u t t h e individual and society
(like later debates about the sign and meaning) tended to displace religious
anxieties about the relation (or nonrelation) b etween the transcendent and
the immanent status of the sacred. The horrifi ed reaction to Durkheim's
initiative of a thinker who was perhaps the best technical philosopher of
his time i n F r a n c e set the to n e . I n a letter to Durkheim's o w n philosophy
professor Emile Bou troux, Jules Lachelier wrote of an earlier theorist of
solidarity:
Yo u must have read in the Revue philosophique a very curious article

of Marion on the prehistoric fami ly. All that, as I told you the other
evening, is fri ghtening, and when it h as really co m e to pass, we must
insist that it has not come to pass, that history is an illusion and the
past a projection and that there is nothing true except the absolute.
There we have perhaps the solution of the problem of the miracle:
it is the legend which i s true and history which is false.72
The intellectual and academic cause a!lebre of Durkheim's own day,

which opposed h i m to a prominent figure of the Republic, moved on a
level less elevated than that of the absolute and of ten less interesting than
that which separated history and legend. This was his notorious debate with
G abriel Tarde, which, like the great debates in the scholastic tradition that
it evoked, divided students into two hostile intellectual camps. In contrast
with Durkhei m's focus upon social structure and impersonal processes in
history, Tarde's stress was on the spontaneity and inventiveness of the in-
novative individual.73 Yet - as Charles Blonde! has shown i n detail i n his

Introduction a ia psychologie collective - the heat of personality and dia
lectic frequently prevented Durkheim and Tarde fro m realizing the extent
to which their problems were complementary. In fact, the thought of the
early Durkheim and ofhis o p p o n ent Tarde (who died in 1 904) represented
two halves of a divided entity - the exteriority and constraint of fo rmal
institutions and the repressed emotion and inwardness of the individual
personality. Only after Tarde's death did Durkheim seem to recognize the
"pathogenic" nature of this dichotomy i n its extreme forms and propose
a model of the "normal" society that combined normative discipline with
spontaneous commitment, and the internalization of norms with a margin
of a n o m i e that allowed for individual creativity.
The substantive issues involved in the Durkheim-Tarde debate were
com promised by a severe personality confl ict. Tarde himself was very much
the grasshopper to the neo-Kantian ant i n Durkheim. His career pattern and
style of thought were quite different fro m those of D urkheim. In contrast
with D urkheim, who regularly ascended through the "normal" institutional
channels to a professo rship at t h e Sorbonne, Tarde m oved laterally fro m t h e
extra-academic vantage p o i n t of a high place in t h e French magistracy and
salon s o ciety into the penthouse of the French scholarly world: the Col
lege de France. His more fl amboyant way of life had its counterpart in the
carefree, essayistic, and almost impressionistic style of the works in which
he developed his i d e a of the role of the individual in society. As Charles
Blonde! has aptly put it:
[Tarde] does not have the superstition of order and logic: h e writes
notes, articles, and, gathering them together, he inserts a few j o ints
and makes of the whole a book. A certain dilettantism gives h i m
t h e ability to smile a n d dictates to him the m o s t alert a n d piquant
fo rmu las on the gravest subjects: "Obedience to duty offers two
advantages: it absolves you often of the need for foresight [p revoy
ance] and always of the need for success. "74
If the controversies opposing Durkheim to republican intellectuals seem

in retrospect to h ave the air of family quarrels, the opposition m anifested
on the Right was more serious and deeply rooted. The Right i n Durkheim's
France was a complex phenomenon which an outstanding analytic histo-
rian of the period has treated in terms of "anti-revolutionary fo rces which

were negative enough to want to go back to the years b efore 1 7 89, and the
counter-revolutionary forces, which accepted some fr uits of the Revolution
but reacted against certain o f its historical consequences ."75
The more intransigent and doctrinaire antirevolutionary fo rces fou n d
their theoretical forebears i n traditionalists l i k e Maistre and Bonald. These
conservatives a o u trance, who formed, i n Com te's famo u s phrase, the "Im
mortal Retrograde School" of social theory, became (at times along with
Comte himself) the inspiration for later reactionary movements such as
the Actio n Franc;:aise. Charles M a urras, the founder of this movement,
was of course a self-styled disciple of Comte. Born in the opposition to
the Dreyfusard victo ty, the Action Franqaise not only m o b i lized forces
hostile to D urkheim's Republic ("Ia gueuse" - "the slut" - the favorite
epithet of Maunas) but also eventually became a m ainstay of the Vichy
government. The Third Republic of Durkheim's time was, moreover, the
locus not only of the traditional currents ofJ acobin and liberal patriotism
o n the Left and of anti-D reyfusard "integral nationalism" on the Right
but also of a newer a n d m o re radical nationalism which began to m anifest
itself about 1 90 5 and reached its prewar climax in 1 9 1 1 . For a historian
of this movement, it was the result of one-upmanship in patriotic asser
tions ( from which only the Socialist Party managed to refrain), and it was
socially based in the lower middle classes of Paris b efore spreading to the
provinces after the Agadir incident 76 Thus to some extent the protofascist
nationalism which was to feed the "league" movement after World War I
had its origins in the prewar period.
T h o s e who placed D u rk h e i m i n the tra d i t i o n o f such c o n servative
t h inkers as M ai s t r e and B onald - n o t to s p e ak of f ascjsm - were
n o t only totally insensitive t o D urkhe im's own h j s t o r ical context b u t
p ro n e to mistake s u p e rficial analogjes for p rofound h i s t o r i cal conti
n u i t i es . l7 C e r ta i n ly, D urkh e i m stressed s u c h t h e m e s a s c o m m u n i ty,
a u t h o r jty, a n d t h e desi rab i l ity o f a s i gn i fi c a n t m e as u re o f h i s t o r i cal
c o n t i n u i ty. B u t in h i s t h o ug h t t h e y were related to a refo r m i s t p r o j
ect. T h e s u b s t antive c ontext i n t o w h i c h D u r k h e j m i ntegrated t h e s e
t h e m e s w a s that of r e p u b li ca n d e mo c r a cy a n d i n di v i d u a l auton o m y
p e r mi t t j n g free acceptance o f n o r m ative structures involving, n o t
rigid h i erarchy, b u t p a r t i c i p a t i o n a n d representatjon. T h e intellectual
fea t o f D urkheim w a s to attempt to disengage certain general, i f n o t

universal, v a l u e s s u c h a s community a n d t h e n e e d for s o c i a l discipline
from reactionary h istorical longings a n d to reconcile t he s e values
w i t h s p e c i fically modern needs, thereby averting s u ch "sociological
monstrosities" as later emerged i n fascis m . T h e one p ar t i al but sig
n i ficant e x c e p t i o n to t h is generalization is D u r k h e i m's treatment ( o r
n o ntreatment) o f i s s u e s relating to gender, sexual relations, and t h e
role o f w o m e n w h er e h i s i d e a s remained b as i cally traditional a n d h e
resisted o r avoided p o s s ib ilities o f analysis and c r i t i q u e suggested b y
other dimensions o f h i s t h o u g h t .
T h e counterrevolutio nary movement i n D urkheim's France took the
forms of liberalism and B o n apartism in politics and of liberal Cat h o l icism
in religion. More pragmatic in tenor than the antirevolutionary movement,
it resisted only selected aspects of the Revolution, whose social and eco
nomic impli cations were opposed by liberalism, and democratic and liberal
implications by Bonapartism. Liberal Catholics demanded the right of the
disestablished Church to run its own schools. Since any extensive analysis
would be beyond the scope of this study, it is sufficient to note that the
more liberal demands (manifested in Pope Leo Xl l l 's call for ralliement of
Catholics to the Republic and Marc S angnier's social idealism) received little
implementation in the Church in D urkheim's time. The alliance of the far
Right and the Catholic Church, which continued the reactionary alliance
of throne and altar, confronted the newly formed Republic with extremist
obduracy. It was met in kind, with the predictable result that both sides
tended to escalate their demands in a bitter syndrome of action and reac
tion. "Church and State were torn apart, not neatly separated: and poli tical
b itterness was fed with new fu el."78
The threat from the far Right b efore the Dreyfus Affair was aggravated
by the fact that the mili tary and upper echelons of the state bureaucracy
(including the Conseil d'Etat at the highest level) were staffed in significant
numbers by men of reactionary leanings. As Alain put it, with some exag
geration, i n 1 906: " I n France, there are a great number of radical voters,
a certain number of radical deputies, and a very small number of radical
ministers: as for the chefi de service, they are all reactionary. The person who
understands this well holds the key to our politics."79 The ultimate clash
between the Right (merging the forces of the Church, the Army, the upper
bureaucracy, and anti-Semitism) and the Republic (momentarily coalescing

the forces of the Left) was of course the Dreyfus Affair. David Thomson
has summarized the core issue in this confrontation, which appeared as an
apocalyptic moment of truth to all the adversaries:
The fact that Dreyfus was a Jew, and that his condemnation led to a
wider drive by the authoritarian mili tarists and clericals to exclude not
merely Jews but Protestants and Republicans from positions of military
and admin istrative power, raised the issue in dramatic fo rm. It was a
clash of rival absolutisms - a challenge of intolerance which bred
an equally severe intolerance amongst the Radicals and Freemasons,
the anti-clericals and Socialists. Democracy had clearly to be a social
and political order based on common citizenship and civilian rights
within the Republic: or else it would b e replaced by an authoritarian,
hierarchic order, dominated by Church and privileged ruling classes in
Army and Civil Service. French logic interpreted the confl ict in these
clear terms, and the battle began.3 0
A crucial long-range problem involved in the ideological confrontation

of the Right and the Republic was the control of education. "The separation
[of Church and State] was only the negative part of an ideal of which the
positive part, or rather the counterpart, implied the reunion of the school
and the State . "8 1 The effort of the Republic to purge the Church from the
educational system engendered the related problems of teachers, curriculum,
and moral education. The clergy and its spiritual infl uence had to be re
placed. We have noted Durkheim's priestly conception of the lay teacher
- the "b lack Hussar" of the Republic, in Charles Peguy's telling phrase.
With respect to the curricu lum, it is important to recognize the historical
correlation of classical education and conservatism in Durkheim's France.
This association led a contemporary observer to quip that the Republic
faced two "social questions": the relation of capital and labor and Latin
verse.82 The historical association of the defense of a classical education, of
conservative politics, and of a highly stratified social order was the concrete
basis for Du rkheim's sustained attacks upon dilettantism and Renaissance
humanism as antimodern tendencies subservient to the interests of a small
elite. Durkheim's conception of reform comprised the democratization of
education and a curriculum that would give students, along with a necessary
b a ckground in general culture, the type of training that would prepare them
for specialized functi ons in modern society. Yet it has not been recognized to
how great an extent the spirit of classical philosophy remained the foundation
of Durkheim's social philosophy. Suicide, with its emphasis on the sense of
legitimate limits and its intimation of an institutio nally furthered "golden
mean" in social life, owes much to the classical tradition.
It is synoptically useful tho ugh excessively stereotypical to frame the
question of the relation o f Durkheim's Republic to the Church i n terms of
contrasts: instituteur versus cure; social and na rural science versus the classics;
social and moral philosophy versus old-time religi o n . In any case, a fu rther
point must b e made concerning Durkheim's position on the church-state
con troversy and the battle over educati o n : he never made an express political
pronouncement on this issue. He indeed labeled the Catholic Church "a
monstrosity from the sociological point of view."83 But he directed this
comment against the extremely b ureaucratic, centralized, and h ierarchical
organizati onal structure of the Church. In the same vein, he p u t forth a
critique that applied to his own Republic: "A society composed of an infinite
dust of unorganized in dividuals which an hypertrophied state tries to hem in
and restrain consti tutes a veritable sociological monstrosity. "84 His positive
concern in both i nstances was the creation of solidaristic groups in which
communal values would be reconciled with institutional organization and
respect fo r the rights of the individual.
In addition, one did not find in Durkheim the offended, vengeful spirit
of the ex-seminarian Emile Combes or the crude positivism embodied
in Paul Bert's comparisons of the clergy to the phylloxera blight which
d estroyed the vines of France, and of the law imposing restrictive state
regulation on religious establishments to healing copper sulfate. Nothing
was more alien to Durkh eim's spirit than penny-ante Voltairianism. The
basic inspiration of Durkheim's conception of religion was ecumenical. And
he ultimately recognized, however tendentiously, the necessity of special
symbo lisms of a mythical nature insofar as they co m pl emented rather than
contradicted the general rational values basic to consensus i n modern society.
For different reasons, the social metaphysic which was his own ultimate
explanatory approach to religious symbolism was offensive both to students
of culture who saw religion analytically "from the outside" and to believ
ers who experienced religion "from the inside." B ut the practical thrust of
his thought within his own historical context was to offe r the Church the
same sort of !iving arrangement it had offered to prior religions i n occupied
territory: tolerance for their symbolic forms i f they accepted its basic mes
sage. Catholicism, in other words, had to become a nondisruptive part of
a larger social consensus.
The classical conservative indictment of the Republic, its philosophy,
and its corps of instituteurs was Les Deracines ( The Uprooted), the ideological
novel of Maurice B anes. But the best illustration of Rightest reaction to
Durkheim himself a n d his particular role i n the Republic was the report of
"Agathon," the pseu donym of Henri Massis and the son of G abriel Tarde,
the more status-conscious Alfred de Tarde. This work85 was man ifes tly in
spired by conservative pol itics, traditional religi o n , activist nationalism, and
a romanticized, soci ally elitist defense of classical education. It claimed to
represent the dominant opinion of French university students immedi ately
before World War I.
For the authors of the Agathon Report, Liard h a d made D urkheim
"a sort of prefect of studies . . . the regent of the Sorbo nne, the all-power
fu l maitre. " Durkheim's position o n key co m m ittees like the Conseil de
I' Universite de Paris and the Comite Consultatif enabled him "to su rvey
a l l appoi ntments in higher education." Under his iron rule, p rofessors of
philosophy were "reduced to the simple role of functionaries." Pedagogy
was D u rkheim's "own private domain." But sociology was b efo re all else
the "one o ffi cial doctrine at the Sorbonne." Sociology had taken the place
of the old phi losophy which had fallen fro m grace. It had become "the
kingpin of the New Sorbonne." Moving from the conspiratorial indictment
to the rhetorical question, the authors of the Agathon Report concluded
by asking: "Who is there that does not feel the truly inhuman quality i n
this debauchery of logic, these cold a n d deductive reveries, these misty
analyses of concepts, and what p o o r food is offered to the avid heart and
intelligence of students?"86
Attitudes toward Durkheim constitute d one area in wh ich extremes
found ad hoc consensus in France. The standard Marxist categorization of
Durkheim was that of "bourgeois Idealist," and the terms of criticism fre
quently coincided with those of the Agathon Report. The most sustained,
if savagely rhetorical, treatment of D urkheim and his milieu by (at least a
pro tempore) French Communist close to the controversies of the time was
Chapter 2 Durkheim s Milieu 5I
in P a u l Nizan's Chiem de garde ( The Watchdogs) of 1 93 2 .87 In this youthful

book, Nizan rewrote M arx's German Ideology to m ake it apply to intellectual
and educational leaders i n the Third Republic. One of the most viciously
unobtrusive of the "watchdogs" of the Republic was Durkheim, the "maitre
of the Moral Fact."
Durkheim was necessary for the b o urgeois university to enter into

possession of its own doctrines: this strengthening of the spiritual
situation, this passage fro m the vague to the dogmatic, from the
obscure to the distinct, is rather well expressed in Durkheim's dec
laration to Agathon in November 1 90 6 : "Let's get to work and i n
three years we'll have a morality." They had it a l l right. This moral
ity exists . . . . Everything really happened as if the founder of French
sociology wrote the Division of Labor in Society to permit obscure
administrators to compose a course of instruction destined for the
instituteurs. The introduction of sociology into the normal schools
consecrated the admini strative victory of o ffi cial morality . . . . In
the name o f this science instituteurs teach children to respect the
French patrie, to j ustify class collaboration, to accept everything, to
commune in the cult of the Rag and b o urgeois democracy . . . . The
manuals [of the Durkheim school], among other works, manifest
the power of diffusion of this doctrine of obedience, of conformism,
and of social respect which, with the years, has obtained such credit
and such a numerous audience.88
To engage in rhetorical overstatement and to dismiss Durkheim in toto

as yet one more "bo urgeois idealist" or airy h o use ideologue of the status
quo was to lose sight of what he actually acco mplished. A real problem
for an existentially relevant, living Marxism was the selective assimilation
of the valid insights of a D u rkheim. B u t it is difficult not to sympathize
with critics who found in Durkheim excessive abstractness, naive social
optimism, and tendentious vagueness often combined with dogmatic as
sertion. Despite his growing concern with modern "social pathology, " one
problem Durkheim never broached in his pedagogical works was the pos
s i b i l i ty that a sch o o l system in which teachers selected and dissemi nated
consensual ideals might find itself specializing in the transmission of the
type of myth that blinded people to social realities and laid inadequate
factual bases for social reform. No doubt, D urkheim's own position in the
educational establishment contributed to the fact that the treatment of the

diffi cult problem of means to effect the reforms he envisaged was perhaps the
weakest chapter in his thought about modern society. He was forever vague
about the type of practical activity that was related both to the acquisition
of concrete knowledge and to the project of changing society i n a desirable
direction. An open reckoning with Marx would have deepened Durkheim's
penetration into modern institutions and ideologies. At the very least, it
would have forced him to treat more adequately the role o f economic fac
tors and social confl ict in modern life . Yet i n his sole extended discussion
of Marxism (in a review of a work b y Antonio Labriola), Durkheim took
special pains to insist that he had "not in the least undergone the influence
of Marx."89 I ndeed the influence of Durkheim in French social thought
was one reason w h y a systematic and derailed confrontation with Marx i n
France was delayed until the 1 93 0s.
What precisely was Durkheim's position i n the spectrum of practical
politics? Marcel Mauss has characterized Durkheim's relationship to so
cialism in the following terms:
D u rk h e i m was q ui t e fam i l i ar with s o ci a l i s m at its very s o urces,

thro ugh S a i n t- S i m o n , S c haeffle, and Karl Marx w h o m a F i nn
ish fri e n d , N e i gl i c k , h ad advised h i m t o s t u d y d u r i n g h is s t a y
in Leipzig. A l l h i s l i fe he w a s reluctant to a d h e re t o s o ci alism
(properly s o -call e d ) b e cause of certain features o f this m ove
m e n t : i t s v i o l e n t nature, its class character - n1 or e or less
w o r k i ngmen's - and t h e r e fo r e its p o l itical and even p o l i t i
c i a n - l i k e t o n e . D u rk h e i m w a s p r o f o u n d l y o p p o s e d t o all w a r s
of c l a s s or n at i o n . H e d e s i r e d c h a n g e o nl y for the b en e fi t of t h e
w h o l e o f s o ciety a n d n o t o f o n e o f i t s p arts e v e n i f t h e latter
h a d n u m b ers and for c e . H e c o n s i dere d p o l i ti c al revol u t i o n s
a n d p a r l i a m e n t a r y e v o l u t i o n as s u p e rfi ci al , c o s tly, a n d m o re
dramatic than s e r i o us . He t h e r e fo re always r e s i s t e d the i de a of
s u b m i tt i n g himself to a party of p o li t ical d i s c i p l i n e , e s p e ci a l l y
an i nternati o na l o n e . Even t h e s o ci al a n d p o l it i c a l crisis o f t he
D re yfus Affa i r, i n w h i c h h e played a large p a r t , d i d n o t change
his o p i n i o n . H e t h e refore remain e d u n c o m m i tt e d - he "syn1-
pathized" ( a s i t is n o w c a l l e d ) with t h e s o c i alists, w i t h J a ures,
w i t h s ocialism. But h e never gave himself t o i t .90
This precis of D u rkheim's attitude toward socialism b y his nephew

and colleague must nonetheless be qualified. For one thing, Durkheim's
ideas o n the possibilities o f corporatism in modern society included cer
tain features of democratic socialism although his views might not go far
enough to satisfy those who saw an unacceptable disproportion between
the "numbers" or p utative "force" of certain segments of the population
and the opportunity, income, and wealth allotted to them . D u rkheim
defi nitely did not subscribe to any existing socialist viewpoint, but he did
attempt to offer a substitute for existing viewpoints that, h e felt, integrated
their desirable, and avoided their undesirable, aspects. H e a p p arently did
not believe in the necessity or desirability o f apo calyptic, violent revolu
tion in his own society or advanced industrial societies in general. B u t he
did see a strong element of value in the French Revolution, although like
Tocqueville h e was aware of the respects in which traits of the ancien regime
continued into the present despite the Revolution. The Revolution had
failed to realize its ideals i n institutions, b ut these ideals, which depended
for their genesis and formulation on social unrest of revolutionary propor
tions, were of lasti ng value i n m odern soci ety. And a d e m ocratic republic,
which itself was a long-delayed fru i t of the Revolution, found a lifelong
s upporter in D urkheim.
On the whole, it would b e accurate to say that Durkheim found parlia
mentary evolution sup erfi cial when politics b elied the promise of democracy
by remaining within the structural confines that detached it from the real
problems of society. To a large extent, politics in his own France did increas
ingly fall into this category as the years wore o n . Toward the end of his life,
Durkheim seemed to realize this. He contrasted, w e are told, the youthful
hopes engendered by the golden age of the Republic with the actual nature
of politics circa 1 9 1 4 :
The "political kitchen" was always o d i o u s t o him and h e avoided

questions of personality and coterie. G am b etta was to some extent
his i d o l : if he liked h i m so m u ch, I think it was because of the large
and generous spirit he found in h i m . Chatting with Durkheim i n
1 9 1 4, I heard h i m complain that pol itics had become " a very small
and mediocre thing." H e had always wanted i t to be grand: that
was the way he saw it in his youth 9 1
In another respect, it did not do to classify socialism as violent and

p u rely working-class in Durkheim's time. Indeed the complexity of so
cialism and of the problems to w hich it sought a n answer had a great
deal to do with Durkheim's hesitancy. I n his own France, there was, for
example, a measure of cooperation between the relatively small, weak, and
internally divided trade-union movement and the parliamentary Socialist
Party (composed mainly of bourgeois). B ut there was n o thoroughgoing
integration on the model of the British Labour Party. The more violent
strand of socialism, with its doctrinaire insistence upon class confl ict and
fa luttefinale, was taken up by anarchosyndicalism. G eorges Sorel became
its ex post facto theorist by b o rrowing fro m M arx's theory of classes and
Durkheim's ideas on r e l i g i o n in a m a n n e r that was fa i thful to n e i t h e r
Marx n o r D urkheim. T h e upshot w a s a lyrical eulogy o f t h e "myth o f the
general strike" and the "poetry of social violence" which were to provide
e ffervescent energy and empowerment, if not redemptive regeneration, for
a working class in movement. Sorel's position came close to a despairing
defense of an activist philosophy of violence independent of context and
prob a b l e consequences - Ia politique du pire in i ts worst form. As G e o rge
Lichtheim has argued, arx himself rejected anarchosyndicalism as an
immature reaction and increasingly came to a more reformist conception
of effective social action i n advanced i n dustrial societies.
France remained important to Marxism [in the period b e tween

1 8 7 1 and 1 9 1 8 ] not merely for the obvious reason, but because
of its strategic position - at any rate down to the 1 8 90s - i n the
propagation of M arxist doctrine. Contrary to a widespread notion
it was the first major party where a significant section of the labour
movement adopted a M arxist platform. This event took place in 1 8 8 0 ,
eleven years b efore the German S o c i a l Democrats followed s u i t . The
platform was a "reformist" one, in that it tacitly repudiated the An
archist preachment of armed violence and the indigenous Blanquist
tradition of Parisian coups d'etat. Instead emphasis was laid on the
need for the working class to build u p its organizations as the only
basis of the coming collectivist order. This was a return to the classic
document of the First International, the Inaugural Address [of 1 864] ,
and it marked the abandonment by M arx (who helped G uesde to
draft the French party p rogramme) of his temporary infatuation with
the utopianism o f the Paris Commune. It was precisely i n this sense

that "M arxism" was then understood both by its adherents and by
Bakunin's followers all over Europe.n
Durkheim himself seems to h ave c o n t i n u e d to identify Marx and

Marxism with doctrinaire intransigence about violent class conflict. He
undertook his studies in soci alism i n part b e cause some of his most brilliant
students were being converted t o Marxist forms of socialism. Mauss was
undoubtedly correct in finding Durkheim's closest practical association to
be with Jaures. (One might retrospectively add the name of the Leon Blum
of A L'Echelle humaine - For All Mankind.) The main reason for the split
b e tween J aures and the Marxists i n France was the issue of cooperation
with the radicals in defense of republican solidarity. Mauss observed that
"if i t was Lucien Herr who in 1 8 86- 1 8 8 8 converted J ames to Socialism,
i t was Durkheim who in 1 8 8 9- 1 89 6 turned him away from the political
formalism and the shallow philosophy of the radicals."93 But in all prob
ability Durkheim himself would have concurred with J aures on the issue of
pragmatic alliances to defend the Rep ublic against all threats. In Lichtheim' s
words: "The fact that Jaures eventually imposed his outlook o n the party
had much to do with the evolution of French Socialism from a worker's
sect into a m ass movement."94
Jaures' position, however, also had m u ch to d o with the tendency of
the Socialist Party in France to subordinate basic issues to opportunistic
considerations, electoral maneuvers, and the "political kitchen." Why was
it that Durkheim in this context did not become more politically active i n
a n attempt to use h i s intellectual powers and infl uence t o defend the basic
moral and philosophical issues to which h e always gave primary emphasis?
On this one can only speculate. Unlike many of his disciples, Durkheim
did not have an activist temperament. M oreover, he may well h ave believed
that by remaining "above parties" he had a greater chance of infl uencing
contending groups t o accept his conception of rational reconstructi o n . His
defi nition of socialism did i n fact influence both Jaures and Jules G uesde.95
Summing up i n 1 90 4 the lessons he had learned from the Dreyfus Affair,
Durkheim observed:
Writers and scholars are citizens; it i s thus evident that they have
the strict duty to participate in p u b l i c life . . . .
Men of thought and imagination, it does not appear that they

are particularly predestined to specifi cally political careers; for these
demand above all the qualities of men of action . . . .
I t is i n my opinion above all through the book, the public lecture,
and popular edu cation that o u r efforts must be made. We must
above all b e counselors and edu cators . . . .
But whenever a serious question o f principle has been raised, w e
h a v e seen scientists abandon their laboratories and scholars leave
their private offi ces to move closer to the crowd and mingle in its
life . Experience has shown that they know how to m ake themselves
heard.
The moral agitation which these events [of the Dreyfus Affair]
have provoked has not yet been extinguished, and I am among those
who think that it must not be extinguished; for it is necessary . . . .
The h o u r of rest has not yet come for us. There is so m u ch to do
that it is i n dispensable for us to keep our social energies, in a m an
ner of speaking, perpetu ally m o b i lized. This is why I believe that
the policy followed in these last years [ 1 900- 1 9 04] is preferable to
the preceding one. It has succeeded i n maintaining a continuous
current of collective action of a reasonable intensity.96
Thus Durkheim's growing sense of crisis led him to believe that the
scholar should move fro m his "normal" activities into a position of more
militant concern. Indeed all Durkheim's major works culminated in a call
to action. In the final words of Suicide, he perhaps gave clearest expres
sion to his idea of the relation b etween theory and practice: "Once one
has established the existence of an evil, what it consists of and on what it
depends, when one knows i n consequence the general characteristics of
the remedy, the essential thing i s n o t to draw up i n advance a plan which
foresees everything; i t i s to get resolutely to work."97
These considerations enable us perhaps to gain some insight into the
moot question o f Durkheim's relation to the solidarist, or solidarity, move
ment - a question on which we have little objective evidence. After the turn
of the centu ry, this m ovement secured extensive support from governments
in power until it became "a sort of offi cial philosophy of the Third Repub
lic."n In a sense the concept of "solidarity" came to have in Durkheim's
France a status comparable to that of "consensus" in recent American his
tory, with many of the same obfuscations and ambiguities. Solidarity was
a theme - indeed an "i dee-force," i n the expression of Alfred Fouillee

- developed b y the politician Leon Bourgeois (who relied on the notion
of a quasi-contract as the basis of social obligation ) ; a j urist and student of
Durkheim at Bordeaux, Leon Duguit; the socially conscious and humane
economist Charles G i de; and the p edagogue Henri Marion (whose De La
Solidarite morale of 1 8 8 0 predated Durkhei m's work by almost a generation).
Despite all the verbal advocacy of solidarity, few o f the concrete welfare
measures proposed by advocates of the movement ever passed into law.
The parliamentary deadlock stymied all action. For M arxists, soli darism
amounted to a rose-colored, ritualistic gesture of academics of good will
and bad conscience whose desire for social peace had little relevance to
the requirements of social acti o n . I n deed, "the Left had always said that i t
came to nothing more than a pretentious restatement o f the classic slogan,
'Neither reaction nor revolution."'
What hard facts of a historical nature do w e have about Durkheim's
relation to the solidarity movement? H e was named to the Faculte des
Hautes Etudes Sociales, founded i n part to prop agate solidarism, and an
i n ternati o n al conference on s o l i d arism ( i n cluded as part of the Exposition
Universelle of 1 9 00) had Durkheim as one of its guest speakers. Beyond
these two facts, the historical ground is less fl rm, and w e are forced to rely
on opinion and the nature of Durkheim's ideas themselves.
Harry Alpert has fl atly rejected any association of Durkheim with the
solidarist movement. "It is important not to identify Durkheim with the
Solidarity movement. Although he too was immediately concerned with
moral questions, and attempted to develop the ethical consequences of
social unity, he used the concept of 'solidarite ' in its pre-Bou rgeois, ob jec
tive, relational and non-ethical sense." 1 00 Alp ert's argument comprised both
the question of historical relationship and the nature of Durkheim's ideas.
On the latter point, Alpert, if I understand him correctly, misunderstood
Durkheim's usage of the concept of solidarity - a grievous error, since this
concept was at the very root of Durkheim's thought and reappeared in dif
ferent guises in all his works. Certai nly, Durkheim insisted upon the obj ective
interdependence or soli darity of social and cultural phenomena in all states
of society and hence upon their amenability to formally rational, structural,
and functional analysis. But absolutely essential to Durkheim's social phi
losophy was the notion that social normality is equated with substantive
rationality, especi ally in the latter's moral sense. On the level of human and
specifl cally social relations, Durkheim was not concerned exclusively or
even primarily with "obj ective" solidarity either in the formal, value-neutral
sense or in the restricted sense of an interdependence of economic interests.
As he stated in the preface to the first edition of De La Division du travail
social ( The Divisio n of Labor in Society), his object was "to treat the facts of
the moral life according t o the method of the p ositive sciences." 1 0 1 Despite
certain ambiguities in the argument of the first edition of Durkheim's E rst
major work, the development of D urkheim's thought - including promi
nently the preface to the second edition of The Division ofLabor - makes
it abundan tly clear that the social sense of solidarity for Durkheim was
preeminently m o ral and that it i n cluded both an "objective" com p o n e n t
in institutional and symb o l i c structures a n d a "subj ective" component i n
internalizatio n , communal sentiment, a n d personal commitment.
Alpert did not provide any evidence whatsoever for the contention that
Durkheim had no relationship with the solidarist movement. Durkheim's
own trusted disciple Celestin Bougie, who, i f anyone, should have known,
p l aced Durkheim within the soli darist movement in a work publ ished
( 1 9 03) during the latter's lifetime and in a larger work pub lished ( 1 924)
after his death. In 1 90 3 , Bougie argued that in contrast with utilitarian
individualism, "solidarism helps us to oppose these desiccating, dissolving,
and aristocratic forms of individualism with a democratic individualism, a
fecund principle of social union and action, whose motto is not 'each man
in his own home' [chacun chez soil or 'each man for himself' [chacun pour
soil but 'one for all and all for one' [chacun pour tous et tous pour chacun ] . " 1 0 2
Indeed Bougie quoted D u rkheim himself as asserting, "One can say that
there is not a single sociological proposition which is not a direct or indirect
demonstration of solidarity." 1 0'
The key practical problem (as B o ugie saw) was whether and in what
contexts solidarity was proposed as a quality of the status quo or as a goal
of action i m p lying the necessity of change. In Durkheimian terms, this
amounted to the question of the extent to which the existing social order
was "normal" or "pathological," for a primary quality of the normal state
of society was the existence of solidarity. The mystifying and ideologically
tendentious use of the idea of solidarity to present a "pathological" status
quo as if it were in all essential respects "normal" and thereby to mask vested
interest and legitimate the repression of dissidence was perceived both on

the Left and o n the Right. The idea of solidarity (like that of consensus)
readily functioned as an ideology passed off as an index of the end of ide
ol ogy. The conservative novelist Paul B ourget in his L'Etape observed of
one of his protagonists:
Ardent and critical souls are not in the least governed by formulas
as vain and as empty as this morality of "human solidarity" which
filled the mouth of the anticlerical p ro fessor: He believed he could
replace by these two words the living tradition of order and love
i n carnated in the Church. He did not see that this expression of the
relative dependence of beings with respect to one another had two
signifi cations: the well-meaning one was the only one h e wanted to
see. But are not all the ferocities of the struggle for life j ustified by
this formula? The lion is in a state of solidarity with his prey, since
he cannot live without it; only this solid arity consists in killing and
devouring i t . 1 04
Aside from its reference to the false optimism of republican educators,

this evocation of the universe of social Darwinism and the more subtle
movement of Hegel's master-slave dialectic pointed to the possible function
of the idea of solidarity in j ustif}ring exploitation. Despite certain equivocal
features of the Division ofLabor, including its abstract and mechanistic air
of false optimism, Durkheim recognized this point. H e increasingly saw
the achievement of moral solidarity and social normality as a project o f no
mean proportions in modern society a n d one whose realization required
basic structural reforms. To this extent, he retained the nineteenth-century
usage of the term "solidarity" by the Left, which correlated it with basic social
reform rather than with token gestures or the self-serving attempt to bring
people together psychologi cally in a soci ally "pathological" status quo.
The importance of the Dreyfus Affair i n the context of the b attle b e tween
the poli tical extremes and the Republic has already been touched upon.
What rem a i n s is to indicate its i m p o rtance in Durkheim's intellectual de
velopment and to his conception of reform in modern society. The intense
engagement of Durkheim and his disciples in the Dreyfus Affair i n d i cated
the extent of its imp act upon them. Durkheim himself was a primary object
of attack by the anti-Dreyfusard forces. His classes were disrupted. And his
collaborators, in the wake of a series of bombings i n cafes surrounding the

Sorbonne, were even led to fear for his life. 1 0 5
Durkheim was moved to step into the political arena and write his
defense of Dreyfus (in 1 8 9 8 ) in oppos i t i o n to Ferdinand Brunetiere,
the Catholic apologist and anti- Dreyfusard editor of the Revue des deux
mondes. Melvin Richter has accurately observed: " It is striking how the
theory elaborated in Les formes r!Mmentaires de fa vie refigieuse turns up at
the very center of the fervent defense Tlndividualisme et les intellectuels,'
which Durkheim wrote at the height of the Dreyfus Affair." 106 It m i ght b e
added that in this complex issue, which involved t h e opposition b etween
justice and the demands of "law and order" in maintaining the status q u o ,
Durkheim came o u t on the s i d e of justice with an argu m e n t which was n o t
only m o r e sensitive t o the ambiguities involved than the attitudes o f many
of the D reyfusards b u t which revealed much more than his own general
discussions of morality an awareness of the complexities i nvolved in any
concrete case of choice.
The respect f orauthorityhas nothing incompatible with rationalism,

provided that authority is fo unded rationally . . . . It is not s u ffi cient
in convincing men to remind them of this commonplace of banal
rhetoric that society is not possible without mutual sacrifi ces and
a certain s p i rit o f s ubordination; o n e m ust justify in the [specific]
instance the docility o n e asks of them . . . . When, on the contrary,
one is concerned with a question which, by definition, falls under
common j udgment, such an abdication is contrary to all reason and
consequently t o duty. Now, to know whether a tri b u n al is permitted
to condemn an accused person without hearing h is defense does not
require any special enlightenment . . . . M e n have asked themselves
whether it is proper to consent to a temporary eclipse of principle
i n order not to trouble the functioning of a public administration
which everybody, by the way, recognizes to be indispensable to the
security o f the state. We d o not know if the antinomy really poses
itself in this sharp form; but, in any case, if a c h o i ce is really n e cessary
between these two evils, to sacrifi ce what has been up to the pres
ent time our historical raison d'etre would b e to choose the greater
evil. An organ of p u b l i c life, however important it may b e , is only
an instrument, a means to an end. What good i s it to conserve the
means i f one detaches it fro m its end? 107
It was i n this defense of D reyfus, m oreover, that Durkheim's h u m an

istic conception o f the "normal" role of individualism in m o d er n societies
t o o k definite and assertive form. Durkheim observed that the indictment
of individualism confounded it with "the narrow utilitarianism and utili
tarian egoism of Spencer and the economists . " He rejected this facile
identification. "One has an easy time i n denouncing as an ideal w i t h o u t
grandeur this shabby commercialism which reduces society to t h e status
of a vast apparatus of production and exchange. " O n the contrary, the
individualism which D urkheim d efended was "the individualism of Kant
and Rousseau, of the spiri tualists - that which the D eclaration of the
Rights of Man t r i e d more or less s uccessfully to translate into fo rmulas,
that which we at present teach in o u r schools a n d which has b e co m e t h e
b a s i s o f o u r moral catech i sm . " According to this s o r t of individualism,
duty consisted i n turning away fro m our personal concerns and "our
empirical i ndividuality i n order to seek u n i q uely what our nature as men
demands insofar as w e share it i n common with all other m e n . " This
ideal transcended the level of egoistic utilitarian ends t o such an extent
that i t seemed t o be "marked with rel igiosity" and t o be "sacred in t h e
ritual sense o f t h e word . " The problem w a s " t o complete, extend, and
organize individualism, not to restrict and com b at i t . " Reflection alone
could a i d i n "finding a w a y o ut of the present diffi culties." With a rare
ironic fl ourish, Durkheim concluded: " I t is n o t in meditating upon La
Politi que tiree de l'Ecriture sainte [ Bossuet's "Politics Derived from the
Very Words o f Sacred Scripture"] that w e will ever fi n d the means of
organizing economic life and introducing more j ustice into contractual
relati o ns . " 108
But what is perhaps most significant is that D urkheim's intense awareness
of the crucial role of religion in social life itself became prominent about
the time the Dreyfus Affair was breaking. In a 1 9 0 7 letter to the Revue m!o
scholastique, Durkheim asserted:
It was only in 1 895 that I had a clear understanding of the capital

role played by religion in social life . It was in that year that for the
fi rst time I found the means of approaching the study of religion
sociol ogically. It was a revelation to me. The course of 1 8 95 marks a
line of demarcation in the development of my thought, so much so
that all my previous research had to be taken up again with renewed

effort in order to be placed in harmony with these new views.109
Durkheim in good scholarly fash i o n went on to fl nd the scientifl c basis

of his reorientation i n the studies of religious history he had undertaken
at the time, notably the works of Robertson Smith and his school. But i t
was n o accident that the "revelation" came t o him about the time h e was
deeply involved in the Dreyfus Affair. For the i n vo lvement that consti
tuted a peak experience of republican intellectuals had all the markings
of D u rkheim's i d ea of an effervescent social m ove m e n t carried a l o n g by
the q u asi-religious force of a mystique which revived and reanimated
great revolutionary ideals of the past. Charles Peguy - the constant critic
who, with impassioned partiality, saw in D u rkheim only the offl cial rep
resentative of p etty rationalism and state power - nonetheless expressed
a conception of the Dreyfus Affai r which Durkheim shared: " O u r Drey
fusism was a religion . . . . justice a n d trut h , which were so loved by us and
to which we gave everyth ing, were not at all the truth and j ustice of the
concept, of b o o ks; they were organic, they were Christian." 1 1 0
For Durkheim, the rassemblement of m e n o f good w i l l i n defense of
D reyfus ( w h o at times assumed the status of a totemic emblem symb olic
of collective values) enabled modern life to transcend for a moment its
ordinary "moral mediocrity." From the time o f the Dreyfus Affair - i . e . ,
during t h e second half of his i n tellectual life - Durkheim, instead o f
fo cusing o n the role of formal constraints, stressed the importance o f com
munal sentiment, collective ideals, and religious symbols in social l i fe .
A t least until World War I . T h e war came as a rude awakening to
men like Durkheim, shattering many o f their intellectual assumptions
and the foundations of their personal existence. Brice Parain, i n his La
Mort de Jean Madec, seizes the contrast between the m o ral atmosphere
of Ia belle epoque, when things seemed fu l l of hope quand meme, and the
postwar sentiments of intellectuals in France who were faced with an
"ob structed p ath . "
I grew u p among the schoolmasters who organized the Republic

after the Dreyfus Affair. They were good, honest, reliable - b u t
they demanded t o o m u ch o f m a n and o f themselves . . . . T h u s they
believed very strongly in the reign of j ustice; their moralityfell apart.
It required too m u c h saintliness. O n e w o u l d h ave preferred the

type of heroism which is more brilliant and which gets along bet
ter with a certain insouciance which is necessary for life. Their
principle said: if you do go o d , you have only done your d uty, b u t
i f y o u d o evil, you must b e punished. Well, evil was done all the
same, and nobody was around to punish the wicked. The war p u t
a n e n d t o their d ream. What i n effect d o es someone owe w h e n h e
has received nothing a n d w i l l receive nothing? ' ' '
During the war Durkheim rallied to the union sacrr!e and b e came
intensely involved in administrative work and propaganda. 1 12 The most
that can b e said ab o u t his propagandistic pieces is that they are among
the most level-headed specimens of a rather paranoid genre. At times they
offered vehicles fo r the expression of his thought, e . g . , in his attempt,
i n L'Allemagne au-dessus de tout - Germany above All - to portray the
German national character and define i m p erialism, with special reference
to the works of Heinrich von Treitschke. 1 1 3 His confi dence in the justice
of his own country's cause was neither diminished by considerations of
long-term causation nor m i tigated b y concern ab o u t the postwar settle
ment. The intensity ( b u t n o t the mere fact) of his propagandistic efforts,
however, must be seen in the light of his anxiety over the fate of his only
son. He received definite news of his son's d eath at the front only after a
prolonged period of uncertainty. For the first time, D u rkheim seemed to
face the temptation of madness. " I need not tell you , " he wrote to G eorges
D avy, "o f the anguish in which I live. It is an obsession of every instant
which hurts me more than I supposed." Durkheim was haunted "by the
image of this exhausted child, alone by the roadside i n t h e mi ddle of t h e
night and t h e fog . . . . That image held m e by the throat. " 1 14 When he
fi nally received definite word o f his son's death, the man who had writ
ten movingly of the spiri tually restorative powers of ritual in m o m ents of
crisis withdrew into a terrible silence which prevented him fro m so much
as talking about his feelings with his closest friends: " D on't speak to me
about my son u n t i l I tell you that i t 's possib l e . " 1 1 5 "Ab ove all, d o n't speak
to me of h i m . " 1 1 6 " Don't answer me. All that weakens and exhausts m e . " 1 17
Iron self-discipline remained the d o m i nant fo rce in Durkheim's life, and
i t fi nally broke h i m . In 1 9 1 7 he died o f what has b e e n called a " b roken
heart." But his own melancholic loss and his inability to mourn might b e
understood less i n terms o f h i s personal ethos than as a testimony t o the
deficit of effective social processes, including rituals of mourning, i n secular
society - a deficit his thinking tried in certain ways to address.
Notes
I. Georges Weill, Histoire du mouvement social en France, 1 852- 1 9 1 0 (Paris:

Alcan, I 9 I I ) , pp. 469-483.
2. "Emile Durkheim," Revue ftanr;aise de socioLo gie, I ( I 9 6 0 ) , 6 .
3. Revue de metaphysique et de morale, XXIV ( I 9 I 7 ) , 749. Compare the tes
timony of Rene Maublanc, "L'Oeuvre sociologique d'Emile Durkheim:'
Europe, XXII ( 1 930), 298. See also Ivan Streski, Durkheim and the fezus of
France (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, I 997).
4. "Emile Durkheim," p . 6 .
5. Reported by Bougle, "L'Oeuvre sociologique d'Emile Durkheim," Europe,
XXII ( 1 93 0 ) , 28 1 .
6. Georges Davy, "Emile Durkheim: L'Homme," Revue de nu!taphysique et de
morale, XXVI ( I 9 I 9) , I 8 3 .
7. Davy, in commemorative issue, Annates de l 'Universite de Paris, No. I
(Jan.-March I 960), I 9 .
8. Harry Alpert, Emile Durkheim and His Sociology (first pub. I 93 9 ; New
York: Russell & Russell, I 9 6 1 ) , pp. I 6- I 7.
9. Davy, "Emile Durkheim: L'Homme," Revue de metaphysique e t de morale,
XXVI ( I 9 I 9 ) , I 8 7. The disorder was diagnosed as erysipelas, an acute
febrile disease associated with intense local inflammation of the skin and
subcutaneous tissue. The agrt!gation is the competitive examination quali
fYing successful candidates to hold teaching posts in French high schools
( lyct!es) .
IO. Ibid., p. I 84.
II. Ibid. , p . I 87.
I 2. Ibid. , p . I 88 .
I3. Quoted in Davy, "Emile Durkheim," Revue ftanr;aise de sociologie, I ( 1 960 ) ,
8.
I 4. Preface to Le Systhne de Descartes (Paris: Alcan, I 9 I I ) , p . v.
I5. Alpert, p . 3 2 . For an analysis o f the French lyc t!e and university system, see
Pierre Bourdieu and Jean-Claude Passeron, The Inheritors: French Students
and Their Relation to Culture, trans. Richard Nice (first pub. I 964; Chi
cago: University of Chicago Press, I 97 9 ) . See also Fritz Ringer, Fields of
Knowledge: French Academic Culture in Comparative Perspective (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, I 9 92) .
I6. Davy, AnnaLes d e f' Universite de. Paris, No. I (Jan.-March I 96 0 ) , I 9 .
I7. "La Philosophie dans les universites allemandes," Revue inte rnationale de
f'enseignement, XIII ( 1 887), 3 I 3 - 3 3 8 , 423-440; and "La Science positive
de la morale en Allemagne," Revue philosophique, XXIV ( 1 8 8 7 ) , 3 3 - 5 8 ,

1 1 3 - 1 42, 275-284.
18. Rene Lacroze, Annales de l'Universite de Paris, No. 1 (Jan.-March 1 9 6 0 ) ,
26.
19. Annales de l'Universite de Paris, No. 1 (Jan.-March 1 9 6 0 ) , 1 9 .
20. Marcel Mauss, "In Memoriam: I;Oeuvre inedite de Durkheim et d e ses
collaborateurs," Annie sociologique, n.s., I ( 1 92 3 ) , 9 .
21. Quoted by Davy, A nnales de l'Universitt!de Paris, No. 1 (Jan.-March 1 96 0 ) ,
19.
22. In trod., Emile Durkheim, L'Evolution Pedagogique e n France (Paris: Alcan,
1 93 8 ) , p. 1 .
23. "Emile Durkheim: I:Homme," Revue de metaphysique et de morale, XXVI
( 1 9 1 9) , 1 9 0.
24. Roger Lacombe, La Methode sociologique de Durkheim: Etude critique
(Paris: Alcan, 1 92 6 ) , p. 1 . The continuing presence of Durkheim i n
French sociology was indicated b y the fact that the immediate string of
successors to his chair in sociology at the Sorbonne were his disciples P.
Fauconnet, M. Halbwachs, and G. Davy. After World War II, however,
the infl uence of Durkheim in French sociology waned. The holders of the
two chairs in sociology at the Sorbonne, Raymond Aron and, to a lesser
extent perhaps, Georges Gurvitch, were more often than not hostile critics
of Durkheim. The centenary of Durkheim's birth i n 1 9 5 8 passed almost
unnoticed in France, partly because of the Algerian crisis that brought de
Gaulle to power. The celebration at the Sorbo nne ofDurkheim's centenary
took place almost two years later, long after similar ceremonies in other
countries. In certain ways, however, a later generation of social thinkers in
France attempted to revive interest in Durkheim with an understanding
guided by the sympathetic desire to discover and develop what is still alive
in his thought. This attitude may be found, for example, in the perceptive
introduction by Victor Karady to an edition of the very Durkheimian
works of the roung Mauss - a publication which is itself a phenomenon
of importance (Marcel Mauss, Oeuvres, 1: Les Fonctions du sacre [Paris:
Les Editions du ;vlinuit, 1 968] ) . The neglect of Durkheim after the war
was due in part to the impact of structuralism on anthropology, general
methodology, philosophy, and even ;vlarxism (as well as to the vogue of phe
nomenology and existentialism). Re-evaluation ofDurkheim might make
it possible to retain the elements of structuralism that clearly constitute a
genuine theoretical advance over Durkheim while phasing out those of its
inclinations which induce sterile formalism and damaging obscurantism. It
might also provide one basis for a critical analysis of the relations between
Chap ter 2 Durkheim s Milieu 67
structuralism and varieties o f poststructuralism. Durkheim's legacy is of

course quite important for Pierre Bourdieu. Its significance for Georges
Bataille has in general not been refl ected in the work of poststructuralists
and would merit extended treatment. One might argue that Bataille over
interpreted, or even misinterpreted, Mauss o n the gift in terms of potlatch
as depense (excessive, gratuitous expenditure) and went on to revise if not
reverse Durkheim's emphasis on the role of normative limits by construing
the latter predominantly as invitations to more or less radical transgression
and ecstatic excess. In Bataille radical transgression becomes the avenue to
at least momentary transcendence in the quest for a secular sacred. Bataille's
orientation has left its mark on poststructuralism.
25. O n e even finds a n echo o f the republican attack on the Second Empire,
which frequently lent itself to ideological uses as a basis for a legitimating
myth of the Republic and its original purity, in Leon Blum's comment in A
L'Echefte humaine (Paris: Gallimard, 1 94 5 ) : "The Empire had been guilty,
but the Republi c was only unfortunate [malheureuse]" (p. 4 1 ) .
26. Emile Durkheim, Socialism, trans. Charlotte Sattler, ed. with Introd. by
Alvin Gouldner (New York: Collier Books, 1 96 2 ) , p. 1 6 0.
27. David Thomson, Democracy i n France (London, New York, Toronto: Ox
ford University Press, 1 9 5 8 ) , p. 27. See also Yves Deloge, Ecofe et citoyennete:
f'individualisme republicain de jules Ferry a Vichy: controverses (Paris: Presses
de Ia Fondation nationale des sciences politiques, 1 9 9 4 ) ; Sanford Elwitt,
The Making ofthe Third Republic: Class and Politics in France 1 8 68-1 884
(Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1 9 75) and The Third
Republic Defended: Bourgeois R{Orm in France (Baton Rouge: Louisiana
State University Press, 1 986) ; William Logue, From Philosophy to Sociology:
The Evolution ofFrench Liberalism 1870- 1 9 1 4 (Dekalb: Northern Illinois
University Press, 1 9 83) and Charles Renouvier: Philosopher ofL iberty (Baton
Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1 99 3 ); Laurent Muccielli, L a
Decouverte d u social: naissance d e Ia sociologie e n France 1 8 70- 1914 (Paris:
Editions de la decouverte, 1 9 98) ; Philip Nord, The Republican Moment:
Struf!j!,lesfor Democracy in Nineteenth-Century France (Cambridge: Harvard
University Press, 1 9 9 5 ) ; and Phyllis Stock-Morton, Moral Educ ation for
a Se cular Soc iety: The Development of morale la'igue in Nineteenth-Century
France (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1 9 8 8 ) .
28. Cf Alpert, p p . 2 8 fl:
29. "Cours de science sociale," Revue internationale d e l'enseignement, XIV
( 1 8 8 8 ) , 48-49.
30. For a concise account o f the social bases o f t h e Third Rep ublic, see Thom
son, chap. ii. See also the compact and intricate essay of Stanley Hoffmann,
"Paradoxes of the hench Political Comm unity," in Stanley H o ffmann

et a!., In Search of France (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1 96 3 ) .
See also Susanna Barrows, Distorting Mirrors: Visions ofthe Crowd i n Late
Nineteenth-Century France ( N e w Haven: Yale University Press, 1 9 8 1 ) ; Jean
Bauberot, La Morale lai'que contre l 'ordre moral (Paris: Editions du seuil,
1 997); Christophe Clurle, La Crise l itteraire a l epoque du naturalisme:
roman, theatre et politique (Paris: Presses de )'Ecole Normale Superieure,
1 979), Les Elites de Ia Republique (Paris: Fayard , 1 98 7 ) , and Naissance des
'intellectueLr' 1 880-1900 (Paris: Editions de minuit, 1 9 90); Bernard Lacroix,
Durkheim et le pol itique ( Montreal: Presses de Ia Fondation Nationale des
Sciences Politiques, 1 98 2 ) ; Christophe Prochasson, Les annees electriques,
1880- 1 9 1 0 (Paris: Editions de Ia decouverte, 1 9 9 1 ) , Les intellectueLr, le
socialisme et fa guerre, 1900-1938 (Paris: Editions du seuil, 1 9 9 3 ) , and
Paris 1900. Essai d 'histoire culturelle (Paris: Caiman-Levy, 1 99 9 ) ; Sylvia
Schafer, Children in Moral Danger and the Problem ofGoZJernment in Third
Republ ic France (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1 99 7 ) ; and Judith
Wishnia, The Proletarianizing of the Fonctionnaires: CiZJil SerZJice Wrkers
and the Labor Mowment under the Third Republic (Baton Rouge: Louisiana
State University Press, 1 9 90 ).
31. See his Economic Deuel opment ofFrance and Germany (4th ed.; Cambridge:
University Press, 1 93 6 ) , especially pp. 232ff. For a thought-provoking
account of the rapid and disrup tive transformation of French society and
culture in the crucial period preceding 1 96 8 , see Kristin Ross, Fast C ars,
Clean Bodies: Decolonization and the Reordering of French Cul ture (Cam
bridge, Mass.: M I T Press, 1 99 5 )
32. Jesse Pitts, "Continuity and Change i n Bourgeois France," i n Stanley
Hoffmann et al., In Search ofFrance. On the way in which social attitudes
of businessmen affected economic activi ty, see David Landes, "French En
trepreneurship and Industrial Growth in the Nineteenth Century," journal
of Economic History, IX ( 1 94 9 ) , 4 5 - 6 1 , and " Business and the Business
Man: A Social and Cultural Analysis," in E. M. Earle, ed., Modern France
(Princeto n : Princeton University Press, 1 9 5 1 ) .
33. Louis Chevalier, i n his Classes faborieuses e t classes dangereuses (Paris: Pion,
1 9 5 8 ) , has observed that from 1 8 48 to 1 8 70 small industry not only pre
dominated but was on the in crease in Paris (pp. 76ff. ) . ror Chevalier, the
prevalence of crime in the Paris region during the nineteenth century was
due to the pathological state caused primarily by demographic change. The
rapid inf ux of people into Paris caused a crisis situation which resulted
not only in high crime rates but in class conf ict of extreme virulence.
Citing an interesting statistic on the issue of class consciousness versus
professional consciousness, Chevalier noted that, at the end of the Empire

and the beginning of the Third Republic, the ind ication of occupation o n
electoral lists tended increasingly to change from a precise denotation o f
metier t o a designation of social class a s "worker" ( p . 1 73 ) .
34. "H istory and Science in Anthropology," American Anthropologist, XXI I
( 1 93 5 ) , 539-569.
35. Theories o_fPrimitive Religion (London: Oxford University Press , 1 965) , p.
67. See also p . 6 , where Evans-Pritchard observes in the manner of Levi
Strauss: "It is a remarkable fact that none of the anthropologists whose
theories about primitive religion have been most influential had ever been
near a primitive people. It is as though a chemist had never thought i t
necessary t o enter a laboratory."
36. C f. Jean Duvignaud, Durkheim (Paris: Presses Universitaires d e France,
1 9 6 5 ) , p. 1 3 .
37. Quoted in John Eros, "The Positivist Generation of French In tellectuals, "
Sociologic al Review, I I I ( 1 9 5 5 ) , 2 6 5 .
38. Les Regles de fa methode sociologique ( 1 5th e d . ; Paris: Presses Universitaires
de France, 1 9 63), p. xii.
39. Davy, "Emile Durkheim: "CHomme," Revue d e mitaphysique e t de morale,
XXVI ( 1 9 1 9) , 1 94 .
40. Ibid., p . 1 9 5 .
41. " I n Memoriam," p. 2 .
42. See Adrien Dansette, Religious History ofModern Fr ance (New Yo rk: Herder
& Herder, 1 9 6 1 ) , I I , 54ff. See also Georges Duveau, Les Instituteurs (Paris:
Editions d u Seuil, 1 9 5 7 ) , pp. 1 22ff.
43. Duveau, p . 1 2 2 .
44. John Scott, Rep ublican Ideas a n d the Liber af71 adition in Fr ance, 1870- 1914
(New York: Columbia University Pres s ) , pp. 1 8 5 - 1 8 6 .
45. Duveau pp: 1 1 7-1 1 8 .
,
46. Felix Pecaut, "Emile Durkheim," Revue pedagogique, n.s., LXXII ( 1 9 1 8) ,

1 4- 1 5 .
47. Jean Izoulet; quoted in G!lestin Bougie, Bilan d e la sociofogie franraise con
tempor aine (Paris: Alcan, 1 93 5 ) , p. 1 68n.
48. Albert Thibaudet, {, a Repubfique d e s professeurs (Paris: Grasser, 1 927), pp.
222-223.
49. Maublanc, 'TOeuvre sociologique d'Emile Durkhei m , " p. 3 0 3 .
50. O n Liard, s e e E r n e s t Lavisse, "Louis Liard , " Revue inten ationafe d e
f'enseignement, L XX I I ( 1 9 1 8) , 8 1 -8 9 ; s e e also G. Ribiere, Revue des cours
et des conftrences, X I I ( 1 904), 1 - 1 3 , 49-65, 97- 1 1 3 , 1 4 5- 1 6 1 , 1 9 3-200,
which includes an extensive analysis of Liard's published works. On Lapie,
see the statements by Celestin Bougie, Felix Pecaut, Andre Fontaine, and
Xavier Leon in the Revue pedagogique, XC-XCI ( 1 927), 1 1 5- 1 66 .
51. Many people realized the extent to which the mystique of the instituteur was
the symbolic recompense for the fact that h e was miserably underpaid. In a
circular to instituteurs i n 1 8 3 3 , Franois Guizot remarked: "The resources
which the central power has at its disposal will never succeed in making
the simple profession of instituteur as attractive as it is useful. Society is
unable to give back to those who consecrate themselves to it all that they
have done for it. It is necessary that a profound sentiment support and
animate the instituteur, that the austere pleasure of having served men
and contributed to the public good become the worthy salary which his
conscience alone gives h i m . It is his glory to exhaust himself in sacrifices
and expect his recompense from God alone" (quoted i n Duveau, p. 5 4 ) .
52. Quoted i n Ribiere, pp. 49, 6 5 .
53. Lavisse, pp. 86-87.
54. Lavisse, p. 8 8 .
55. Quoted i n Ribiere, p . 9 .
56. Lavisse, pp. 82-83.
57. Lavisse, pp. 98-99.
58. Fontaine, Revue pedagogique, XC-XCI ( 1 927), 1 6 5 .
59. Pecaut, ibid., pp. 1 22 - 1 2 3 .
60. Leon, ibid., p. 1 6 0 .
61. Fontaine, ibid. , p. 1 66 .
62. Andre Canivez, }tdes Lagneau: Essai sur Ia condition du professeur de philoso
phie jusq u a Ia fin du )JXe siecle, Association des Publications de l a Faculte
de Strasbourg, 1 9 65, p. 275. See also Claude Digeon, La Crise allemande
de la pemee ji-mzaise, 18 70- 1 9 1 4 (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France,
1 9 59) .
63. Speech o f Paul Armand Challemei-Lacour before the Senate, Dec. 1 9 ,
1 8 8 8 ; as quoted in Maurice Barres, Les Deracines, I (first pub. 1 8 97 ; Paris:
Pion, 1 9 5 9 ) , 64.
64. Repotted by Bougie, "L'Oeuvre sociologique d'Emile Durkhe i m , " p.
283.
65. E m i l e Durkheim, L'taucatimz morale (first pub. 1 92 5 ; Paris: Presses Uni
versitaires de France, 1 9 6 3 ) , pp. 3, 9, 7-8.
66. See Richard D. Sonn, Anarchism and Cultural Politics in Fin-de-siecle
France (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1 9 89) and Peter Starr, Log
ics ofFailed Revolt: French Theory After May '68 (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford
University Press, 1 9 9 5 ) .
67. Emile Durkheim, Education et sociologie (Paris: Alcan, 1 92 2 ) , p. 62.
68. Canivez, p. 275.

69. L'Educatimz morale, p p . 72-73.
70. Armand Cuvillier, Ou va la sociologie .fi'mzaise? (Paris: Librairie Marcel
Riviere, 1 9 5 3 ) , p. 42.
71. Les Etapes de Ia pensee sociologique (Paris : Gallimard, 1 9 87), pp. 394ff.
72. Letter of Jan. 1 , 1 87 8 , "Lettres , " Bibliotheque Nationale.
73. For a brief analysis ofTarde's thought, which attemp ts to show how Tarde
was much more than the theorist of the "laws of imitation," see the intro
duction by Terry N . Clark to Gabriel Tarde mz C ommwzication and Social
Influence (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1 969).
74 . Introduction a Iapsychologie collective (first pub. 1 927; Paris: Armand Colin,
1 9 64), p. 37. This neglected work contains an excellent comparison of
Comte, Durkheim, and Tarde.
75. Thomson, pp. 27-28. See also the complementary, farther ranging (if less
historically tight) analysis by Rene Remond of changing manifestations of
traditionalist, conservative-liberal, and nationalist tendencies, La Droite en
France (Paris: Aubier, 1 9 63) .
76. Eugen Weber, The Nationalist Revival in France, 1905- 1 9 1 4 (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1 9 59). See also Robert So ucy, Fascism in
France: The Case ofMaurice Barres (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1 972), French Fascism: The First Wcwe, 1 924- 1933 (New Haven, Conn.:
Yale University Press, 1 986) , and French Fascism: The Second Wflve (New
Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1 99 5 ) ; and Zeev Sternhell, Neither
Right nor L(t: Fascist Ideology in France (Berkeley: University of Californ ia
Press, 1 9 86) .
77. For the argument relating Durkheim to conservatives and traditionalists,
see Robert Nisbet, "Conservatism and Sociology, " American journal ofSoci
ology, LVI I I ( 1 9 5 2 ) , 1 6 5 - 1 7 5 . The theme of Durkheim's conservatism was
muted in Nisbet's long essay in Emile Durkheim (Englewood Cliffs , N . J . :
Prentice-Hall, 1 965) and his Sociological Tmditimz (New Yo rk: Basic Books,
1 966). An important idea adumbrated in "Conservatism and Sociology" is
no t further developed in Nisbet's two later works . (It is discussed in Nisbet's
fo reword to 7!Je Works ofjoseph de Maistre, trans. and in trod. by Jack Lively
[ fi rst pub. 1 9 65; N . Y. : Schoken Books, 1 97 1 ] , pp. xi-xviii.) This is the
idea of philosophical conservatism. Nisbet argues that a thinker may have
conservative values although he does not defend the status quo or reaction.
It is in this p hilosophical sense, I think, that Durkheim was conservative.
For the assertion of Durkheim's relation to " i n tegral nationalism," see
M. M. Mitchell, "Emile Durkheim and the Philosophy of Nationalism,"
Political Science Quarterly, XLVI ( 1 9 3 1 ) , 8 7- 1 06 . See also George Catlin's
introduction to Durkhei m's Rules ofSociological Method (first pub. 1 93 8 ;

N .Y. : Free Press, 1 9 64). For the charge o f irrationalism and protofas cism,
see William M . McGovern, From Luther to Hitler (London: George G .
Harrap, 1 94 6 ) , chap. ix.
78. Thomson, p. 1 4 3 .
79. Elements d'une doctrine radicale (Paris: Gallimard, 1 92 5 ) , p . 2 5 .
80. Thomson, p . 1 4 1 .
81. Thibaudet, p . 1 9 6 .
82. Alfred Fouillee, "La Reforme d e l'enseignement philosophique e t moral
en France , " Revue des deux mondes, XXXIX ( 1 8 8 0 ) , 3 3 3 - 3 6 9 .
83. "Associations d e culte," Libres Entretiens, 1 s t series (Paris: Bureau des "Lib res
Entretien s"), p . 369.
84. Preface t o 2d ed., D e La Division du travail social (7th e d . ; Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1 96 0 ) , p. xxxii.
85. L'Esprit de Ia nouvelle Sorbomze (Paris: Mercure d e France, 1 9 1 1 ) . S e e also
the same authors' less interesting Les]eunes Gens d'aujourd'hui (Paris: Pion,
1 9 13).
86. L'Esprit de Ia nouvelle Sorbomze, p p . 9 9 , 1 0 1 - 1 02 , 1 1 0.
87. Paris: Maspero.
88. Ibid. , pp. 1 09- 1 1 0.
89. Revue philosophique, LXIV ( 1 8 9 ), 647. On this problem, see Armand
Cuvillier, "Durkheim et Marx," Cahiers internationaux de sociologie, I V
( 1 94 8 ) , 75-97.
90. Introd., 1 s t ed., Emile Durkheim, Le Socialisme, in Socialism, pp. 34-
35.
91. M . Holleaux, quoted i n Davy, "Emile Durkheim: I.:Homme," Revue de
metaphysique et de morale, XXVI ( 1 9 1 9) , 1 8 9 .
92. Marxism: A n Historical & Critical Study (New Yo rk: Praeger, 1 96 1 ) , p.
228.
93. Mauss, lntrod., Socialism, p. 34.
94. Lichtheim, pp. 228-229.
95. Mauss, lntrod., SociaHsm, p. 3 5 .
96. 'TElite et Ia democratie," Revue bleue XXI I I ( 1 904), pp. 705-06.
97. Le Suicide (Paris: Presses Universitaires de france, 1 9 60), p. 45 1 .
98. Celestin Bougie, L e Solidarisme (Paris: Marcel G i ard, 1 9 24), p. 7. See also his
earlier study L'Evolution d u Solidarisme (Paris: Bureau de La Revue politique
et parlementaire, 1 9 03 ) , an extract from Revue politique et pa rlementaire,
March 1 90 3 . J . E. S . Hayward, in "Solidarity: The Social History of an Idea
i n Nineteenth Century France , " International Review ofSocial History, n . s . ,
I V ( 1 95 1 ) , 2 6 1 -2 8 4 , contends that solidarity a s an idee:force was associated
Chapter 2 Durkheim 's Milieu 7.3
in the ni neteenth century with leftist and reformist movements and that
in the Third Rep ublic i t increasingly became an ideology j u stifying the
status quo. He places Durkheim in the latter context without attempting
to j ustify this classification. The problem concerning Durkheim is touched
upon briefly in Melvin Richter's excellent article, "Durkheim's Politics and
Political Theory, " in Kurt H. Wolff, e d . , Essays on Sociology and Philosophy
(New York: Harper & Row, 1 9 64), p. 1 8 8 . On the role of the concept of
solidarity in early n ineteenth-century France, including its radical use by
workers, see William Sewell, Work and Revolution in France: The Language
ofLabor fi"om the Old Regime to 1848 (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1 98 0 ). Sewell argues that a democratic corporatism with socialist
components was dominant in laboring classes during the period treated
in his study.
99. Richter, op. cit.
100. Alpert, p. 1 7 8 .
101. Division du travail social, p. xxxvii.
1 02 . "L'Evolution d u Solidarisme, " p . 28. For the explicit reference to Durkheim,
see p. 3 .
103. Ibid., p . 7 . The quotation i s repeated i n Bougie's L e Solidarisme, p . 1 2 .
1 04. Paris: Librairie Artheme Fayard, 1 94 6 (first pub. 1 9 1 4 ), p . 207.
105. See Terry N . Clark, "Emile Durkheim and the Institutionalization o f Soci
ology," Archives europeemzes de sociologie, IX ( 1 96 8 ) , 63-64. See also Eugen
Weber, The Nationalist Revival in France; Charles Andler, La Vie de Lucien
Herr (Paris : Rieder, 1 93 2 ) , pp. 1 1 2- 1 50 ; Romain Rolland, Peguy (Paris:
Albin Michel, 1 944), I , 3 0 6ff. ; and Daniel Halevy, Peguy et "Les Cahiers
de la quinzaine" (Paris: Bernard Grasser, 1 94 1 ) , p p . 68-80
1 06. " D urkhei m's Politics and Political Theory," p. 1 7 5 .
1 07. "L'lndividualisme et les intellectuels , " Revue bleue, 4th series, X ( 1 898) ,
1 0, 12.
1 08 . Ibid., pp. 7-8, 1 3 .
109. XI V ( 1 907), 6 1 3 .
1 1 0. Quoted in Romain Ro lland, Peguy, p . 8 5 .
111. Paris: Grasser, 1 94 5 , p . 7 1 . For the French in tellectual scene between the
two wars and after, see H . Stuart H ughes, The Obstructed Path (New Yo rk:
Harper & Row, 1 968) .
1 1 2. A list of Durkheim's commi ttees in Davy, "Emile Durkheim: CHomme,"
Revue de metaphysique et de morale, XXVI ( 1 9 1 9) , 1 93 , includes: Conseil
de l' Universite, Comite des travaux historiques et scientifiques, Comite
consultatif de l' enseignement superieur, Commission des etrangers au
ministere de l'I nterieur, Comite fran<_;:ais d'information et d'action aupres
des j uifs en pays neutre, Fraternite fran co-americaine, Pupilles de ! ' Ecole
publique, Comite de publication des Etudes et documents s u r la guerre,
Comite de publication des lettres a tOllS les Franc;:ais, Ligue republicaine
d'Alsace-Lorraine, Societe des amis de Jaures, and Pour le rapprochement
universitaire.
1 1 3 . In L>lilemagne au-dessus de tout (Paris : Colin, 1 9 1 5 ) , Durkheim made
an interesting application of his concept of anomie to the problem o f
imperialism. For Durkheim, imperialism was a form of anomie fo stered
by dominant institutions like the state and military, and a thinker like
Treitschke attempted to legitimate institutionalized anomie in the form of
a national will to power. The limitless expansion of the power of a state at
the expense of o ther states was for Durkheim "a morbid hypotrophy of the
will, a kind of will mania" (p. 44). Durkheim realized that anomie might
be furthered by dominant institutions, instilled into the personalities of
citizens through education, and legitimated by intellectuals. Even in his
later work, however, he only at times extended his insights to broach an
analysis and critique of colonialism. Colonialism is not, for example, an
issue in his Elememary Forms oft he Religious Lfe or in his reflections about
the relation of sociology to anthropology.
1 1 4 . Davy, A mzales de l 'Universite de Paris, 2 1 . I would further note that i t
i s i nteresting to compare Durkheim's conception of Germany's primary
responsibility in causing the war with the similar thesis later made famous
by the German historian Fritz Fischer.
1 1 5 . Ibid.
1 1 6 . Davy, "Emile Durkheim," Revue fimzfaise de sociologie, I ( 1 960), 1 2 .
1 1 7 . Quoted b y Raymond Lenoir, "L'Oeuvre sociologique d'Emile Durkheim,"
Europe, XX I I ( 1 930), 2 9 5 .
3
The Division ofSocial Labor
We believe that our research would not merit an hour's tro u ble fit had only a
sp eculative interest. Jfwe sep a rate with care theoreticalfrom p racticalproblems,
it is not in order to neglect the latter; it is, on the contrary, to p u t o u rselves in
a better position to resolve them.
- The Division of Labor in Society
Quo vadis ?
The Division of Labor in Society has a c q u i red in modern social thought

the d u b i o u s status of a sacred text that is almost a dead letter. l t i s a work
that is referred t o with the pro forma awe that scholars reserve fo r recognized
classics, b u t to which little real reference is made in the analysis of problems.
Indeed D urkheim h i m s elf, as well as h i s disciples, never returned to the
massive and c u m b r o u s concepts of organic and mechanical solidarity t h a t
were "absolutely fundamental i n h i s fi r s t m a j o r w o r k . " ' Talcott Parsons,
despite his belief that the work has never received the recognition it mer
its, fel t o b liged to o b serve, "it is, however, a book which i s far from being
complete o r clear i n many o f t h e m o s t essential p o i n t s , and is distinctly
diffi cult to interpret."2
I t i s diffi cult to decide whether The Division ofLabor m e r i ts attention
i n itself o r whether its value derives p r i m a r i l y fro m its place i n the general
development of the thought of Durkheim and his s c h o o l . And it i s d i ffi
cult to understand why certain co m m en tators, even Parsons h i m se l f, were
tempted to construe this work as indicative of a definitively fo rmulated
"first position" in D u rkheim's thought which was later sub jected to dras
tic r e vi s i o n . The work o ught rather to b e seen as an initial, tentative, and
somewhat ambivalent exploratory essay putting fo rth certain problems
and themes which i n the course o f Durkheim's intellectual life were to be

- with varyi n g degrees of adequacy - modified, refi ned, and developed.
Durkheim once compared the experience of people i n archaic societies to
a "primitive nebula" whose laws were in all essentials to be conserved in
modern societies.3 In some measure, this metaphor applies to the relation
of The Division of Labor to Durkheim's own later works.
Durkheim, as we know from M arcel Mauss, had at first conceived his
thesis in terms o f individualism and socialism - a theme which recalled
the 1 8 3 3 essay De L7ndividualism e et du socialisme of the Saint-Simonian
Pierre Leroux. This popular work had been infl uential in bri nging the
term "socialism" into general curren cy.4 But the theme of The Division of
Labor was later recast i n the more scientifically aseptic framework of t h e
relation between t h e individual and society. I n a turn o f phrase reminiscent
of Rousseau i n the Social Contract, D urkheim posed the question: " How
is it possible for the individual in becoming more autonomous to depend
more closely upon society? How can he be at the same time more personal
and more solidaristic?"5
S o m e of the m o re ideological reasons why Durkh eim recast the t h e m e
of h i s first major work were related t o t h e obvious hesitancies i n its line
of argument and the timidity i n its refl ections o n reform. Durkheim
u n d o u b tedly remembered the h arassment of Alfred Espinas and the
furor caused by his thesis, "Animal Societies." Paul Janet, a member of
Durkheim's o w n thesis j ury, had tried t o convince Espinas to modify a pas
sage on Auguste Comte in his introduction and, because Espinas refused,
had had the entire introduction suppressed before publication.6 During
the defense of Durkheim's thesis, Janet lost his composure, rapped on the
table, invoked G od, and warned D u rkheim that sociology led to madness.7
Emile Boutroux, to whom the thesis was dedicated, could not accept this
ambivalent honor "without making a grimace. "8 It was signifi cant that
the title of D u rkhei m's supplementary Latin thesis on 1ontesquieu re
ferred to h i s predecessor's contributions to political science rather than to
sociology. Durkheim's hesitancy to use the n e w word "sociol ogy" was one
small indication that sociology was suspect, not b e cause of its reliance on
orthodox conservative ideas to bolster the status quo, but because i t was
unsettling, at times for reasons contemporaries were unable to formulate
clearly or accurately. Despite D urkheim's attempt, in his early work, to allay
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial l-abor 77
suspicions on t h i s score, h i s s o c i o l ogical a p p roach t o problems involved a

new way of seeing things and, consequently, a reordering of modes of in
terpretation. Politically and socially, it seemed t o i m p ly, h o wever o b l i q u e l y
a t t i m e s , t h e necessity o f b a s i c s t r u c t u r a l reform for s t a b l e o r d e r t o be p o s
sible in modern s o c i e t i e s . M a u s s r e p o r t e d t h a t D u rkheim "clashed w i t h
t o u c h y moralists and c l a s s i c or C h r i s t i a n economists fo r their obj ections
to collectivism, w h i c h t h e y s t r u c k at through his Division of Labor. D u e
t o confl icts o f t h i s k i n d , h e w a s excluded from p r o fessorships i n Paris. " 9
Bordeaux itself i n D u rkheim's t i m e b e came a sho rt-lived i n tellectual center
because o f the o p p o s i t i o n of established powers i n the c a p i t a l to newer
currents i n social thought.
Indeed, the fact that The Division of Labor could have caused such a s t i r
seems surprising i n retrospect, since i t is ambiguous b o t h i n its theories and
in its p olitical implications. Ostensibly, the primary focus of The Division of
Laborwas the structure of modern society, the pro cess of modernization, which
had brought that structure into existence, and the relation of structure and
process to moral solidarity among people in society. In good Gallic fashion,
the b o o k was divided into three principal parts: ( 1 ) an analysis of organic and
mechanical solidarity and their relations to individuals and groups in society;
(2) an investigation of the process o f change which purportedly had led from
the mechanical solidarity o f primitive and traditional societies to the organic
solidarity of modern societies b ased on The Division ofLabor; (3) a study of
pathological fo rms in which The Division ofLabor did not function to create
solidarity in society.
Thus, D u rkheim approached modernity and the industrial revolution
through the s t u d y of The Divisio n of Labor. I n this way, he met the clas
sical economists on their own native grounds. But these grounds were to
be explored and their sociological features perceived in such a way that
the resulting human geography would no longer b e familiar to the heirs
of Adam Smith. The very title of the work, De La Division du travail social
- which has been mistranslated The Division ofLabor in Society i nstead of
"The Division of Social Labor" - was itself highly significant. The division
of social labor was fo r Durkheim identical in its b r o adest sense with social
d ifferentiation, and in its n arrower and more specifically modern sense with
advanced occupational specialization. But in Durkheim the fo cus shifted
away fr om the economic role of the divi s i o n of l a b o r, e . g . , in increasing
prod uctivity. It fel l instead on the function o f the division of!abor i n relating
p e o p l e to one another in society. From economic product to social process
and the quality of human l i fe - this for Durkheim was the sociological
perspective o n the division of labor.
In fact, D u rkheim's first m aj o r work seemed to show a lack of concern
with economic problems. Durkheim's methodological goal was to fu rther the
idea of a u n i fi e d social science by stressing the extra-economic dimensions
of economic activity. His increasingly apparent ideological p urpose was to
subordinate the economy and materialistic motives to the moral and cultural
needs of people i n s o ciety. B u t h i s mode of affirmation often approached
disciplinary imper ialism and disdain fo r the dismal science with its specific
fo rm o f abstraction. Indeed, i n Durkh eim's conception o f economics, t h e
mind-body dualism fu nctioned to relegate economic activity t o t h e sphere
of the literally material a n d the individual. B y the end of h i s !if e, Durkheim
considered economic activity to be the p r o fane par excellence. His entire
conception of the problem not only failed to offer insight into the nature
of economic institutions; it also d i d little to illuminate the moral and reli
gious aspects o f modern economic activity t h a t Max Weber treated in Th e
Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism.
Durkheim's i d e a o f economics was o n e case i n w h i c h the norm ative and
critical aspects of his thought submerged the analytic. For he saw the unlimited
desire fo r commodities and unregulated economic activity (the "free" m arket)
as prominent instances o f modern social pathology. This p o i n t of view would
become manifest in Suicide. But the distinction between social "normali ty"
and "pathology" was basic to the general argument of T he Division ofLabor.
In that book, D u rkheim introdu ced his basic definition of morality and h i s
idea o f the i n t i m a t e association b etween social normality and t h e prevalence
of soli darity in soci ety. "We can say in a general manner," he observed, "that
the characteristic of moral rules is to enunciate the fundamental conditions of
social solidarity. " L 0 The correlation of social normali ty, solidarity, and morality
revealed the fo undation o f D u r k h e im's thought i n organizing principles that
were methodological and normative at one and the s a m e time.
In h i s concepts o f mechanical and organic solidarity, Durkheim fo
cused u p o n "normal" states o f society. A consideration o f "pathological"
phenomena i n modern society was restricted to a concluding section which
was disproportion ately s m a l l i n comparison with the gravity o f the prob-
lems treated; i t was also rather dissociated fro m , o r at least inadequately

related to, the preceding discussion o f normal states o f society. The result
was that a t times social "normality" was itself normalized, and the distinc
tion between t h e norm atively desirable or legitimate state of society and
the empiri cally prevalent or d o m inant - even m o reso the evolutionary
expectation - was effaced.
A m a j o r ambiguity i n Durkheim's argument stemmed from the l a c k
of clarity about the concepts of t h e mechanical a n d t h e organic. I n terms
of his master metaphor of the tree of sociocultural l i fe, it was unclear ( 1 )
where given cases, and especially entire societies, fi t into his conception of
the mechanical and the organic, and (2) whether and how these concepts
applied to the c o m m o n , transhistorical trunk ofsociety and to its typological
branches. Furthermore, Durkheim relied on the concepts of the mechanical
and the organic to correlate a series o f classifications whose factual basis was
far fro m certain and whose fru i tfulness i n research was far fro m apparent.
The confl uence o f these problematic features made The Division ofLabor not
only the most inertly abstract o f D urkhei m's works b u t the least convincing
in i t s a b i l i t y t o h a ndle theoreti cal abstractions with logical in telligibility a n d
informative relevance.
Mechanical and Organic Solidarity
T h e distinction between mechanical and organic so lidarity was s i m i l a r

to numerous other polar o p p ositions i n t h e work o f early social thinkers.
I t was analogo u s , fo r example, to Charles Horton Cooley's distinction
b e tween primary and secondary groups. And it h a d areas o f overl apping
w i t h N i etzsche's concepts of the D i o nysian and the Apollonian and with
Weber's o p p o s i t i o n b e tween charisma and b ureaucratization. D urkheim
h i m s e l f, as w e shall see, tried to relate h i s concepts to Ferdinand Ti:innies'
i n fl uential contrast between Gemein s chaft ( c o m m u nity) and Gesellschaft
(society). To s o m e extent, the c o m m o n root of a l l these o p p ositions was the
distinction b etween communitas and d i fferentiated structure. ( D urkheim
himself did n o t use the term comnumitas. But I think it helps t o formulate
the concept he tried to convey in a term like "mechanical solidarity." In
contrast w i t h differentiated structure, communitas constitutes the (problem-
atic) element of communal identity in experience. T h e term communitas

has been employed b y Victor Turner i n The Ritual Process, discussed later
in this chapter.)
But the terms "mechanical" and "organic" b etrayed a peculiar duality in
Durkheim's thought. On the one hand, they seemed indi cative of the most
pretentious sort of positivism. The analogies evoked were physical and bi
ological. On the other hand, the terms were saturated with symbolic value.
Romantic thought had made the organic the synonym of the authentic and
living, and the mechanical identical with the false and dead.
This duality in connotation belied the fact that Durkheim did not know
precisely where he was going in his first major work. Like much modern
writing, The Divisio n ofLabor was a dissertation in search of a thesis. In t h e
most general sense, the term "mechanical" referred t o solidarity through "si
militudes" (or what might be termed "communal identity" ) ; "organic" referred
to solidarity through differentiation with reciprocity and cooperation among
differentiated but complementary parts. In referring to the genesis of social
solidarity, Durkheim related his sociological principles to the notion in com
mon-sense psychology that people love both what resembles them and what
is di fferent from yet com plements them.
To refer to community as mechanical was paradoxical. I n the works of other
social thinkers, the concept of the organic was intimately bound up with the
notion of community. In The Division ofLabor, the fact that overshadowed
the concept of organic solidarity was the absence of signifi cant community i n
modern life. Durkheim recognized this fact b u t seemed bewildered about how
to come to terms with it. The concluding section, on "pathological" forms of
The Division ofLabor, showed that Du rkheim was not offering the concept of
organic solidarity as a simple legitimation of the modern status quo. But does
The Division ofLabor indi cate he believed that solidarity in modern society i s
even theoretically possible without significant community? The fact that he
failed to treat the relation of bureaucracy to organic solidarity does not help
to clarify his intent. Nor does t h e absence of a full discussion of the relations
between modern, universalistic humanism and t h e values adapted t o more
concrete, face-to-face communi ties.
At times Durkheim seemed to sense the need for a measure of both or
ganic and mechanical solidarity i n any "normal" (or normatively desirable)
society: "It is not necessary to choose once and fo r all between [organic and
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial l-abor 8I
mechanical solidarity] and condemn one i n the name o f the other; what i s
necessary i s t o give each at each moment o fhistory the place which i s proper
to i t ." 1 1 But it was only in writings of a later date that D urkheim became more
explicit about the possible role of community in modern society. His advocacy
of professional groups that would allow for some measure of decentralization
had as one of its most essential features the desire to remedy the lack of com
munity in modern life. And his last major work, The Elementary Forms ofthe
Religious Life, was postulated on the conviction that a significant measure of
continuity was necessary between the b ases of legi timate order in "primitive"
and modern societies.
Although Durkhe im's ideas about modern society became clearer in time,
one feature of The Division of Labor which continued to be characteristic of
his thought was the tendency to see "primitive" societies primarily, i f not ex
clusively, in terms of social similitudes, homogeneity, and communal identity,
to the exclusion of differentiation among roles i n the group or among groups
in the larger social context. This exaggerated idea of "primitive" conformism
became the b asis for the chapter in The Rules of Sociological Method on the
classification of social types (chapter iv). It was in fact one basic reason why
Durkh eim's project for a comp arative classification of social types remained
little more than a pious hope. In The Rules, as in The Division of Labor,
Durkheim gratuitously postulated a hypothetical horde as the basis of group
formation in society, and hence the "natural" b asis of classifi cation of societ
ies in terms of increasingly complex combinations of the nonexistent primal
horde. Individuals in the horde "do not form in the interior of the total group
any special groups which differ from the group as a whole; they are j uxtaposed
atomically. " 12 Du rkheim was forced to concede that no historically known
societies corresponded to this Darwinian notion of the undifferentiated
"protoplasm of the social realm." But the force of this model of primitive
homogeneity was so constraining in D urkheim's mind that he concluded,
with no appeal to evidence, that the "simplest" types of "primitive" society
were "formed i m mediately and without any i n termediary by a repetition of
hordes . " 13 The horde, which became a "segment" of a larger "segmental" so
ciety by recapitulating the atomistic j uxtaposition of its members in its own
relations (or nonrelations) with other hordes, was for Durkheim the clan. A.
R. Radcliffe-Brown detected with acumen h o w this sociologically false and
misleading conception of groups in "primitive" societies remained basic even
in The Elementary Forms oft he Religious Lfi:: "One o f the results ofDurkheim's
theory is that it over-emphasizes the clan and clan soli darity. Totemism does
more than express the unity of the clan; it also expresses the unity of totemic
society as a whole in the relations of the clans t o one another within the larger
society." 14 0ne could add that totem ism might also be related to tension and
conflict within and between groups.
The tendency to see phenomena in "primitive" societies in terms ofidentity,
homogeneity, and confusion was carried to absurd lengths in Lucien Levy
Bruhl's attempt to make the Platonic principle of mystical "participation" the
sole basis of experience among the "primitives. " Despite his own criticism of
Levy- Bruhl's tendency to see an unbridgeable gap between forms of experi
ence in "primit ive" and modern societies, a strong element of the tendency
remained i n Durkheim's attempt to fi nd the source of religious beliefs i n
undifferentiated concepts like "mana." And Durkheim often continued t o see
the type of communal identity that is at most attained within confl ict groups
in revolutionary "effervescence" and within a stable society only periodically,
in ritual activities, as the exclusive functional principle of solidarity in ongo
ing "pri m i tive" societies. Durkhei m's thought, however, was not dominated
by the abstract force of concepts alone or by the generally unsympathetic
ethnocentrism of a Levy-Bruhl. What remained from beginning to end in his
conception of "primitive" societies was the idea of savage experience as the
total realization of the communal bond that he fel t was missing in modern
societies. Yet it is no exaggeration to say that a fundamental basis fo r the
advance of social and cultural anthropology beyond Durkheim has been the
application of the principle of differentiation to symbolic systems and social
stru ctures in "primitive" societies, or, even more forcefully, the questioning of
whether any common label (much less the designation primitive) fits certain
societies or, instead, relies on the tendentious opposition between "them"
and "us." Along with such questioning has come a fuller appreciation for
both the nature of experience in these societies and the role of differences
and differentiations i n all cultural symbolisms and social systems. H i ghly
complex occupational specialization might not be typical of certain societies.
Nor were universalistic values (which applied to all people in certain situa
tions, independent of personal status) or functionally specifi c norms (which
were limited to certain spheres of existence differentiated from other spheres).
But certain sorts of difference and differentiation were crucial in "primitive"
societies: the problem was their precise nature and relation to issues Durkheim
found important.
The difficulty of relating the universal and typical conditions of solidarity
in modern and "primi tive" societies was compounded in The Division ofL a
bor by the inclusion of other concepts and phenomena under the rubrics of
mechanical and organic solidarity. Under mechanical solidarity, Durkheim
included - along with similitude, or communal identity, i n "primitive"
society (indeed "traditional" societies in general) - the notion of conscience
collective, repressive or penal sanctions as the most objective index of this type
of solidari ty, and the idea of segmental structure. Under organic solidarity, he
included - along with differen tiation in modern society - the idea of the
weakening, if not the eclipse, of comcience collective, restitutive sanction as
the most objective index of this type of solidarity, the notion of "organized"
structure, and the emergence of universalistic values and individualism. As I
intimated earlier, at points in this intri cate exercise in opposing modern and
"other" societies, Durkheim threatened to fall into the trap of similar dualistic
attempts to classify the universe of societies known to cultural history: the
basing of "scientific" classification in sociology o n the vague and tendentious
opposition between "them" and "us."
Perhaps the most plausible way to pursue an analysis of this aspect of The
Division ofLabor is to take apart the idea clusters of mechanical and organic
solidarity, which were to decompose of their own weight over the years, and to
show how Durkheim and his disciples defined and redefined their conceptual
components until new and more (or less) relevant classificatory schemes ap
peared on the horizon of their thought.
Conscience Collective
The core concept of Durkheimian sociology which The Division of L a

bor included under mechanical solidarity was that of conscience collective.
Durkheim defined the concept thus:
The totality of beliefs and sentiments common to average members

of the same society forms a determinate system which has its own
life; one can call i t the collective or common conscience . . . . It is re-
alized only in individuals [but] it is the psychic type of society, a type

which has its properties, its conditions of existence, and its mode of
development. 1 5
Elsewhere Durkheim would indicate how the conscience collective might

remain pertinent to exceptions in society, even when it was transgresse d .
T h e conscience collective, i n contrast with the individual and the event, was
situated on the level of structure. In one sense, it was the sociopsychological
ground of a common culture in members of society. I n French, the word
conscience had the ambivalent meanings of "conscience" and "consciousness."
Durk heim, h owever, often stressed that aspects of the conscience collective
might be unconscious. And the concept, both in its conscious and uncon
scious aspects, applied above all to norms, constraining symbolic systems,
and moral or religious sentiments. Within the French tradition, the concept
recalled Comte's notion of consensus and Rousseau's idea of volonte gbzerale.
I t also was similar to Freud's concept of the superego. D u rkheim's notion
of "collective representation" (somewhat like Freud's "ego ideal") stressed
more specifi cally the conscious component of comcience collective. The ideas,
values, and symbols expressed in collective representations were sou rces
of legitimation for institutional practices and actual behavior in soci ety.
Without going into the complex qualifications that would be required i n
any extended discussion, o n e might also note that the concept of comcience
collective - especi ally in its unconscious or implicit aspect - resembles later
notions, such as Ferdinand de Saussure's langue (in contrast to parole) and
Levi-Strau ss's structure (in contrast to event) . B u t Durkheim also at times
retained a sense of ways in which the concept could not be inserted into a
system of binary oppositions b u t instead informed practices or actual uses
that had a degree of flexibility i n history and social life. Still, at its most
dubious, conscience collective approximated vague and tendentious notions
of national character.
The history of Durkheim's intellectual development was in large part
the story of his re-emphasis of factors in social life initially discussed under
the rubric of conscience collective. Yet, within the confining context of me
chanical solidari ty, he associated the conscience collectivewith repressive penal
sanctions and communal identi ty. Repressive sanctions, for Durkheim, were
t h e most obj ective i n dex or criterion of mechanical sol idarity: they i m posed
expiatory punishment upon the person who offended the comcience collective,
especially in its religi ous demands. This punishment was in contrast with
restitutive sanctions (correlated with organic solidarity), which simply tried
to reinstate the status quo ante, e.g., through the paym ent of damages. The
confinement of the conscience collective to norms defining crimes leading
to repressive sanctions proved in time to be too restrictive a notion for
Durkheim, altho ugh h e never lost interest i n the problem of crime and
punishment a n d its relation to the "hard core" of the conscience collective.
The correlation of comcience co!lectivewith communal identity or similitudes
in the "internal milieu" of the group imposed more extreme and at times
misleading restrictions on usage (restrictions which, in one sense, confl icted
with the emphasis on repressive sanctions, for, within limits, soci ety tended
to be more communal when it was less repressive and more repressive when
it was less communal ) . But the emphasis upon the importance of community
in a normal state of society was to be retained by Durkheim. And it revealed
the influence of Rousseau on his thought, especially in the belief that com
m u n i ty was m o s t pronounced in "pri m i ti v e societies.
"
In time Durkheim's conception of "normality" i n modern society re

scinded the narrow correlation of conscience collective, mechanical solidar
ity, and traditional soci ety. The first edition of The Division of Labor itself
presented humanism - the idea of a common human nature and universal
values as the ultimate basis of personal dignity - as the highest cultural
ideal of modern society. Humanism was the universalistic comcience col
lective of modern societies, and it enjoined the sentiment o f community
among all men qua men (often in blindly gendered and species-specific
terms which Durkheim replicated rather than critically analyze d). But its
abstract values and imaginary identifications seemed to evolve almost as the
unintended consequence of a process of elimination of other, more concrete
values, attachments, and face-to-face relations. Later, Durkheim argued that
universalistic humanism need not be incompatible w i th m o re particular
(but not narrowly particularistic) forms of comcience collective. Militant
nationalism contradicted a universalistic humanism; but liberal patriotism
complemented it. In Durkheim's conception of corporatism, moreover, the
insistence upon the necessity of communal intermediary groups was con
joined with the idea that a normal, solidaristic social system in modernity
would requ i re norms and laws which defined the relational conditions of
reciprocity and cooperation among differentiated elements or intermediary

groups in the larger social context. The specialized professional and other
particular contents of experience might be restricted to a given group (and
serve as the experiential basis for a particular component of the conscience
collective of that gro u p ) . But, for solidarity to predominate over particu
larism, related groups would have to share a conscience collective containing
norms which defl ned the justifled modes of interaction, mutual expectation,
and exchange with one another. This requirement placed a dimension of
organi c solidarity within the province of the conscience collective. In fact, we
flnd an awareness of this requirement i n the discussion of contract law and
its normative social context in The Division of Labor itself.
Crime and Punishment
The Division of Labor stressed the sociological importance of the com

parative study of legal systems. It placed special emphasis on the role of
organized sanctions in society. This e m p hasis h ad both m e thodological
and substantive bases.
Methodologically, the organized sanction was an objective and relatively
manifest component of social structure. Thus a focus upon it reduced the
possibility of subjective or ideological distortion of facts in the initial ori
entation of research. As Durkheim remarked in his preface: "To submit an
order of facts to science, i t is not sufflcient to observe them with care, to
describe and classify them. But, what is more difflcult, one must, in the
words of Descartes, flnd the way in which they are scientiflc, that is discover
in them some objective element which allows exact determination and, i f
possible, measurement." 16
Durkheim's later thought was less "positivistic" in that i t neither made
this degree of methodological objectivity the criterion of all significant
research nor maintained a prim ary e m p h asis upon fo rmal constraints and
sanctions. And, in marked contrast to important tendencies in social science
that continue to this day, his approach never made a fetish of measurement.
But it did retain the subs tantive basis of the focus on sanctions, which it
in tegrated into a notion of objectivity more adapted to the complex, mean
ingful demands of sociocultural enquiry. Sanctions could serve as an index
of solidarity in the "normal" state of society only because they shared in the
nature of the social system in general. For, in the "normal" state of society,
customary or written law was the most organized and stable dimension of
social structure . 1 7 Through its sanctions, a society put its authorized power
where its mouthed ideals were. One apparent defect of The Division of
Labor was the fact that Durkheim, despite his legalistic focus, did not treat
the problem of law and sanctions i n a society characterized by significant
conflict and marked differences among social groups in terms of wealth,
status, and power. What does law express and how does it function in a
society riven by conflict? Marx's answer was categorical: law serves the in
terests of the ruling class.
Durkh eim never provided a comprehensive and more nuanced answer to
the questions raised by the problematics oflaw i n a confl ict-ridden, stratified
society. His later writing contained only scattered references to the problem.
In Suicide, he observed i n passing: "When the law represses acts which public
sentiment judges to be inoffensive, i t is the law which makes us indignant, not
the act which it punishes." 1 8 One important problem which the propagandistic
World War I pamphlet Germany above All emphasized was the crisis generated
by a conflict between legal imperatives and the demands of a humanistic ethic.
Although the severity of this conflict challenged his optimistic evolutionary
assumptions about the non-authoritarian and democratic course of law and
government in modern society, Du rkheim's answer was unequivocal. In con
trast to the school of j u ridical positivism in Germany, which had exercised
some influence on his early thought, Durkheim without hesitation placed the
humanistic conscience collective of modern society above legal duties to the
state. Had he lived longer, Du rkheim might well have confronted in more
pressing terms the problem of the relation between his theory of value and
the issue of civil disobedience. 19
What was the nature of crime and the criminal from Durkheim's socio
logical perspective? The criminal was different from others. This difference
lay in the crimi nal's infringe m e n t of norms and values in wh ich oth ers found
identity through communal allegiance and shared commitment. Crime
disrupted the conscience collective. In Durkheim's neo-Kantian and some
what personifYing conception, punishment was the way a law responded to
transgression by reasserting its own threatened authority. As h e phrased i t i n
a later work:
A violated law must bear witness to the fact that despite appearances
it is always itself, that it has lost nothing of its fo rce and authority in
spite of the act which negates it. In other words, it must affirm itself
in the face of the offense and react in a way that manifests an energy
proportional t o the energy of the attack which i t has undergone. Pun
ishment is nothing other than this meaningfu l manifestation.20
Still, from Durkheim's perspective, sanctions in society were essentially

d i fferent from the conditioning of animals. D urkheim was never "pos
itivistic" in the behavioristic or even formalistic sense. One of his own
later criticisms of pragmatism (in his Pragmatism and Sociology) was its
proximity to purely behavioristic explanations of human activity. In turning
to the role o f internalized norms in people, Durkheim argued that "pun
ishment is only a sign of an internal state; i t is a notation, a language by
which . . . the public conscience of society . . . expresses the sentiment which the
blameworthy act inspires in i t . " 2 1 Durkheim did believe that when values
were deeply rooted in the comcience co llective, punishment might become
an almost instin ctive reaction. But the emotion involved i n this passionate
response to crime was not pure affectivity. It was affect or sentiment more
or less meaningfully, and perhaps unconsciously, structured by norms and
symbols that interposed themselves b etween stimulus and response. Indeed,
punishment served to counter the unsettling, at times traumatic, threat of
anxiety and anomie affectivity attendant on a challenge to on e's n o rmative
structure of experience.
These were the general notions of crime and punishment, first sketched
in The Division ofLabor, which D urkheim would retain and develop. In The
Rules ofSociological Method, however, he pointed to an error in his dominant
conception of crime and the criminal i n his first major work: "Con trary to
current ideas, the criminal no longer appears as a radically unsociable or
parasitical element, a fo reign and unassimilable body within society; he is
a regular agent of social life . "22 The Division of Labor, by Durkheim's own
admission, had stressed the negative nature of the criminal and his relation
to society - a viewpoint on the "deviant" which almost refl ected the at
titude of the conformist. In his conception of the possible social normality
of crime, Durkheim dialectically perceived the positive or productive ele
ment in cri me.
A certain rate of crime was an essential and inevitable constituent of

the healthy o r normal society. Functionally, crime provided the occasion
for a more or less dramatic display of social solidarity i n punishment. Si
multaneously, it tested existing institutions and relations, indicating that
social structures were flexible enough to allow fo r a measure of change.
Indeed, the criminal and the idealist were related by a hidden fu nctional
nexus between transgressi on and transcendence, which at times portended
a certain identity of nature. "For society to evolve, individual originality
must break through; for that of the idealist, who dreams of going beyond
his century, to manifest i tself, that of the criminal, who is below the level
of his time, must b e possible. O n e does n o t go without the other. "23
Even in the most " n o r m a l " society t h a t cam e closest to realizing its
values, there would be a necessary gap b e tween ideal discourse or sacred
text and practical reality. Hence, one had the existence of anomie and in
determinate interstices in which the criminal would always fi nd a place.
Imagine a society of saints, an exemplary and perfect cloister. Crimes

in the stri ct sense would be unknown there. B u t fau l ts which seem
venial to the vulgar would raise the same scandal as ordinary mis
demeanors i n ordinary consciences. Thus i f this society fo und itself
armed with the power to j udge and punish, it would qualify these
acts as criminal and treat them as s u c h.24
Thus i n all states, types, and milieus of society, the nature of crime said
something profound ab o u t the nature of society. Crime and conformity
were themselves bound together by a structure of reciprocity. Indeed,
especially in periods of rapid transi t i o n , it m i ght b e i m possi b l e to distin
guish clearly and distinctly between the idealist and the criminal, for both
might ambivalently participate i n the destructive and creative potential of
anomie. With the collapse of fi xed and stable reference p oints, it would
a t times be d i fficult to tell who was above and w h o below the level of the
time. D urkheim's frequent references to the trial of Socrates rested upon
an awareness of this dilemma and the problems it presented for moral
judgment.
For Durkheim, m oreover, the contradictions and equ ivocations of crime
represented like a distorted mirror i m age the uncertainties of conformi ty.
Revealing his recognition of the tendencies of one for m of modern hu

manism which were antithetical to his own growing desire for communal
warmth i n moderni ty, h e perceptively observed:
Such are the characteristics of our i m m o rality that they make t h e m

selves remarked more by cunning than by violence. These charac
teristics of our immorality are, moreover, those of our morali ty. It also
becomes more cold, self-conscious, and rational. Sensibility plays an
ever more restricted role, and this is what Kant expressed i n placing
passion beyond morals. 25
So great was D u rkhei m's belief in the importance of the intimate rela
tionship between crime and conformity that i t led to what was for him a
truly signifi cant step: the reorganizati on of material i n the A n nt!e sociologique.
Beginning with Volume IV, Durkheim included a section on the functi oning
of moral and j uridical rules in which he included b o th statistics and an
analysis of conformity and deviance. (This section was paralleled by one
on the genesis and structure of norms and institutions.) The explanatory
basis of this classificatory reorganization was the realization that disobeying
a rule was a way of relating to it. The typological variations of conformity
were matched by variations of criminality. As Mauss later observed: "In an
epoch when few statisticians recognized the fact, he distinguished between
violent cri minality directed against persons in b ackward classes and popula
tions and the milder crimi nality against goods (fraud, abuses of confidence,
etc.) in commercial classes and urban, policed populations." 2 6 Here we have
an inkling of what Sutherland was to call "w hire-collar crime."27 Whatever
the problematics of the manner in which he applied it to specific cases,
the general principle which underlay Durkheim's conception of crime was
the idea that an institutional order or value system expressed i tself in its
fo rms of deviance or transgression i n a m a n n e r fully co m p l e m e n tary to its
expression in its forms of "respectable" b ehavior. Thus for Durkheim crime
itself was not a social disease. Rather, the crime rate became a symptom
of social pathology when i t rose ab ove or fel l below certain thresholds of
collective tolerance: then it pointed to severe causes of pathology i n society
and attested to the need for social reform.
It would, moreover, be false to conclude, on the grounds that Durkheim
assimilated ordinary crime and ideological crime, that Durkheim's theory of
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial l-abor 9I
crime was convincing evidence o f h i s status q u o conservatism. Lucien Gold

mann, for example, has written, "It should be pointed out that [Durkheim's
definition of crime] includes acts as different as the deed of Jesus driving
money changers from the temple, the activity ofThomas M iintzer, Karl Marx
or Lenin, on the one hand, and, on the other, the latest hold-up or murder."28
This conAation, for Goldmann, is one proof of "the conservative perspective
in which all of Durkheim's sociology is implicitly elaborated and which al
lows us to explain a great many other features of both his work and that of
his disciples." Goldmann concludes, "the assimilation of the revolutionary to
the criminal naturally turns the reader against the former."29
Durkheim's point was that, especially in periods of rapid transition,
m e m b e rs of s o c i ety w o u l d t h e m s e lves experience a m b iva l e n ce in the
j u dgment of certain phenomena. That the ideological criminal could
himself p articipate in this ambivalence was shown by the case of S o crates.
Ye t D u rkheim did realize that the characteristic of ordinary crime was
its parasitical status vis-a-vis existing norms and institutions, whereas
ideological crime (or, at times, the ideological aspect of crime) placed in
guestion the e x i s t i n g rules o r p o l i cies. D u rkh e i m , in an article, tried to
take account of a criticism by Tarde that was s i m ilar to G o ldmann's b u t
that, i n contrast, stressed t h e radical implications of Durkheim's theory
of crime. In other words, Tarde fel t that the approximation of the revolu
tion ary to the criminal naturally turned the reader in favor of the latter.
D urkheim replied:
I said [in The Rules] that it was useful and even necessary that in
any society the collective type not repeat itself i d entically in all con
sciences . . . . When I tried to show how crime could have even direct
utility, the only examples I cited were those of Socrates and the
philosophical heretics of all times, the precursors o f free thought . . . .
Then I said that the existence of crime had a generally indirect and
sometimes direct utility: indirect, because crime could end only i f
t h e conscience collective i m posed itself upon individual conscien ces
with such incorrigible authority that all moral transformation was
rendered impossible; direct, because sometimes, b u t only sometimes,
the criminal was the precursor of a future morality . . . . In all times,
the great moral reformers condemned the reigning morality and were
condemned by it.30
Despite the debatable nature of Durkheim's moral futurism and his

omission of the point (so imp ortant for Walter Benjamin) that w h a t loses
out histori cally might be of value and worth redeeming for the present and
future, he did indicate the dialectical relation between crime and conformity.
This involved both the destructive and creative aspects of anomie that were
pre-eminently marked in ideological crime. Certain questionable features
of the argument in The Di11ision ofLabor, however, would be only partially
mod in ed in the course of time.
Durkheim never adequately inquired into the crisis i n the modern con
sciousness of punishment created by the puzzling intersection of an ideology
of individual responsibility, the theory of social determinants, and the idea
of "mental i l l ness." Nor did h e ever treat the psyc h o logical internalization
of norms and values with the care that would facilitate the building of
bridges to the insights of Freud. In his investigation of crime, D urkheim
did not treat self-punishment, which might have masochistic dimensions,
or the function of the punishment of others in acting out sometimes sadistic
sacrificial scenarios, suppressing one's own criminal tendencies, or relieving
o n e's frustrations and anxieties. In Durkh e i m , there was li ttle fee l i ng for t h e
possibility that people might commit crimes, a s they might turn t o suicide,
in order to find expiatory punishment fo r a pre-existing sense of guilt stem
ming from an explicit act, an overwhelming desire, or the general structure
of a repressive collective or individual conscience.
In his Ci11ilization and Its Discontents, Freud asserted that his intention
was "to represent the sense of guilt as the most important problem in the
evolution of culture, and to convey that the price of p rogress in civiliza
tion is paid in for feiting happiness through the heightening of the sense of
guilt. " 3 1 Despite his insistence upon the role of expiation in punishment,
Durkheim devoted scant attention to the problem of guilt - a critical lacuna
in his attempt to relate self and society. Even in his Education morale, which
contained some of his most acute observations on the social determinants
of character fo rmation, he tended on the w h o l e to restrict h i mself to prob
lems of social structure, solidarity, and blame. Thus crime and punishment
did constitute an area i n which Durkheim's curiosity was stunted by his
positivism and obj ectivism.
In The Di11ision of Labor, moreover, the same problems that plagued
his conception of comcience collecti11e b eset his theory of crime. Associating
crime in a one-dimensional manner with social homogeneity and communal

identity, he failed to explore fully the ways in which crime was related to
differentiation. The sector of modern l i fe that supported the correlation of
differentiation and restitutive sanction was that of the functionally specific
division of labor, or specialization, in formally rationalized contexts. B u t
Durkheim's tendency to universalize the correlation of communal identity
and penal sanction led him to ignore or underestimate crucial features of
social life .
Durkheim's i d e a that t h e criminal w a s different from others was asso
ciated with the idea that crime itself was a departure from the communal
identity assured by the conscience collective. The latter preconception pre
vented Durkheim fro m seeing that the criminal m igh t diffe r fro m others in
deviating from norms stipulating differentiation and that crime itself might
consist in bringing together in illicit communal identity "things" which
ought to remain separate. Crime as deviation from norms prescribing dif
ferentiation was in certain respects singularly significant in the "primitive"
societies that Durkheim interpreted in terms of homogeneity and com
munal identity. Durkheim's undialectical conception of the role of com
munal identity in crime accounted for the fact that, while he recognized the
importance of ritual interdict in creating the religious nature of crime and
the role of the incest taboo in kinship, he was never fully able to account
theoretically for these observations. Thus, for example, he never related the
incest taboo to differentiation among kinship groups and never saw the
way in which incest was (as the Chinese characters which stand for incest
express it) a "confusion of relati onships." Nor did he devote analytic and
critical attention to the dubious differentiation and illegitimate prohibitions
involved in the gendering of relations, for example, those confining women
to certain delimited social roles and occupations. Indeed his own analysis
(notably in Suicide) at times symptomatically replicated stereotypes related
to prevalent male gender anxieties.
Durkheim's l o n g article e n titled "Deux L o i s de !'evolution penale"
("Two Laws of Penal E volution")32 represented an extended footnote to
the discussion of crime in The Divisio n of Labor. In this article, he tried
to formulate tendential regularities in the development of penal sancti ons.
His focus shifted from restitutive to repressive sanctions i n m odern society.
H e approached the problem through the evolutionary bias of "laws" of
94 mile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
F.
quali tative and quantitative development i n punishment. His law of quali

tative variation asserted that punishments tended to become less religious
in nature. In modern socie ty, punishment was increasingly restricted t o the
deprivation of liberty through incarceration in special houses of detention.
(This insight was of course later important in the work of Michel Foucault
for whom Durkheim was not, however, an explicit reference point.)
In D urkheim's second I aw, the element of social optimism which existed
as an undercurrent in The Division of Labor emerged fully to the surface
of his thought. It stated that the intensity or severity of punishment varied
directly with the extent to which societies belonged to a simpler or "lower"
type and with the extent to which the central government was absolute.
T h i s idea was more nuanced than the tendency in The Division of Labor
to correlate "cruel and unusual p u nishments" with "primitiveness, " for i t
recognized a second variable i n the nature o f the central government - a
factor that was n o t pertinent to many "primitive" societies. B u t Durkheim
apparently did n o t believe that authoritarian government was a real pos
sibility in modern societies. Indeed, the entire problem of the nature of
government, which did not readily fi t i n to t h e s i m p le-co mp lex schema of
social organization, was deprived of sociological relevance. "This special
form of political organization [ i . e . , authoritarianism] does not pertain to
the congenital constitution of society b u t to individual, transitory, and
contingent conditions."33 Despite his thesis on Montesquieu, Durkheim
at this stage of his thought was far from learning the lessons in political
sociology that his great predecessor taught.
The generalized correlation of "simple" or "undifferentiated" society
with severe punishment, however, could not withstand the onslaught of
evidence. In this respect, Durkheim's lvforal Education (which began as a
lecture course j u st after the publication of 'Two Laws of Penal Evolution")
represented a significant advance i n his conception of crime and punish
ment. Commenting on the research of the ethnographer Sebald-Rudolf
Steinmetz, Durkheim observed:
A priori,one might believe that it is the rudeness of primitive mores,

the barbarism of the fl rst ages which gave birth to this [severe] system
of punishment. B ut the facts are far from concording with this hy
pothesis, h owever natural it may first appear . . . . In the great majority
of cases, discipline is of great mildness [ i n "primitive" societies] . The

Indians of Canada love their children tenderly, never beat them, and
do not even reprimand them.34
A little later Mauss, writing about a "primitive" society (that of the

Todas) in the A nn ee sociologique, asserted: "Penal law does not exist to
any significant extent. It is probable that the cause of this absence is the
extreme mildness of mores in these populations."35 Curiously, Durkheim
himself observed in an Annee review that predated his "Two Laws of Penal
Evolution": "The role of discipline grows with civilization. The notion of
rules, o f imp erative norms, which holds such a great place in our morality
has nothing primitive about it. It is thus natural that education becomes
impregnated with a certain austerity."36
These rather overstated observations on the repressive role of developing
civilization were supplemented in Durkheim's Moral Education with a line
of argument that did greater j ustice to the function of authoritarian gov
ernment by placing i t in the broader context of authoritarian and oppressive
institutional structures in general. In early modern history, corporal pun
ishment fou n d a privileged sanctuary i n the type of school that was marked
by maximal social distance b etween teacher and pupil and a claustration
of children that isolated them from their families and the rest of society.
This educational situation, Durkheim concluded, easily "degenerates into
despotism . " The means o f avoiding this danger was to prevent the school
"from closing in upon itself. . . and assuming too professional a c haracter."
This could be effected only by m u ltiplying the school's points of contact
with the external world. "In itself, the school, like all constituted groups,
tends toward auton omy. It does not easily accept control. Yet control is
indispensable for it, not only fro m an intellectual, b u t from a moral point
of view."37
Durkheim went on to elaborate a more inclusive theory of severe and
violent punishments, which he extended beyond the school to comprise
such phenomena as colonialism. Corporal punishment i n the school was
" a partJcu
. 1 ar case o f a 1 aw. ,
Every time two populations, two groups of individuals, of unequal

culture find themselves in sustained contact, certain sentiments
develop which lead the more cultivated group or the group which
beli eves i tself to b e more cultivated to do violence to the other. This

can be observed very frequently in colonies and in any country where
representatives of a European civilization find themselves at grips
with an i n ferior civil izati o n . Without violence having any utility,
and although i t presents grave dangers to those who indu lge i n i t and
who expose themselves to fearful reprisals, i t breaks out inevitably . . . .
There is produced a veritable drunkenness, a shameless exaltation
of the ego, a sort of megalomania which leads to the worst excesses,
whose origin is not difficult to perceive . . . . The individual does not
contain himself u n less he is faced with moral fo rces which he respects
and upon which he dares not trample. Otherwise, he knows no limits
and asserts himself without measure or bound.38
Here Durkheim did briefly address the problem o f colonialism and even
related its violent excesses to the "sublime" feeling of exaltation. His final
observation obscured the way social values and political or military practices
- not simply limitless individual assertion - may themselves be crucial
in exacerbating colonial excesses. But his valuable insight was that the truly
relevant variable in the severity of p u nishment is the degree of authoritari
anism in social institutions. Authoritarian structures or relations tended to
convert punishment into a systematic but often anomically unstable form of
extreme violence that might be met by the extremely violent reaction of the
oppressed.
Traditional D ijferentiation
The distinction between segmental and organized structures 11 The

Division of Labor paralleled that between the simple and the complex, the
mechanical and the organic, the primitive and the mod ern.39 The discussion
of segmental structures had the merit of bringing out the importance of
relatively small and self-sufficient populations i n societies marked by strong
communal ties, inherited status, attachment to traditions (represented socio
logically by the prestige of elders), local territory (or vicinage), religi ous belief
and practice, and the importance of kinship. However, Durkheim's idea of
segmental structures i n creased the d i fficulty of relating the various factors
that he inventoried, for it reinforced the preconception that certain societies
were based exclusively on homogeneous groups j uxtaposed, i n Durkheim's

simile, "like the rings of a ringworm ."40 D urkheim apparently did not sense
the absurdity in the idea of a structure that was not in any sense organized. He
could even make the incredible assertion that in "primitive" societies "kinship
itself is not organized."41
Given Durkheim's taste for biological metaphors, it is interesting to spec
ulate what might have been the effect on his thought if he had known about
the genetic code. The Division ofLabor relied on the idea that undifferentiated
protoplasm was the basis of organisms. In his later years, Durkheim did seem
to be on the brink of newer ideas which prefigured the great shift in social
and cultural anthropo logy that was to be effected in France by Marcel Mauss
and Claude Levi-Strauss.
In 1 9 03, D urkheim observed in an article on methodology written i n
collaboration with Paul Fauconnet:
These elementary forms exist now here in a state of even relative isola
tion which permits direct observation. Indeed, one must not confound
them with primitive forms. The most rudimentary societies are still
complex, although they have a confused complexity. They contain in
themselves, lost in one another [perdues les tmes dans les autres] , but
still real, all the elements which will be differentiated and developed
in the course of evolution.42
The question begged in this quotation is whether the confusion lies in

the comp lexity of certain societies or in the understanding of the observer.
D urkheim's thought i tself appeared in slightly clearer form in his Pragmatisme
et Sociologie (reconstituted from a course given j ust before his death), in which
he enunciated the idea of a "primitive nebula."
When Spencer affirms that the universe proceeds from the homo
geneous to the heterogeneous, this formula is inexact. What exists
at the origin is also heterogenei ty, b u t it is heterogeneity in a state
of confusion. The initial state is a multiplicity of seeds, of modali
ties, of different activities, not only mixed together, but, so to speak,
lost in one another so that it i s extremely difficult to separate them.
They are indistinct from one another. It is thus that in the cell of
monocellular beings all vital functions are as if gathered u p : all are
fo und there; only they are not separated. The fu nctions of nutrition
and the functions of relation seem confounded, and i t is difficult to

distinguish them. In social life, this primi tive state of indivision is
still more striking. Religious life, for example, is rich with a multitude
of fo rms of t h o ught and activity of all sorts. In the order of th o ught,
it comprises: ( I ) myths and religious beliefs , (2) an incipient science,
(3) arts, aesthetic elements, notably song and music. All these ele
ments are gathered up [ ramasses] i n a whole, and it seems diffi cult to
separate them: science and art, myth and poe try, morality, law, and
religion - all are confounded [ confondu] or rather melted [/ondu]
i n t o o n e another.43
This was Durkheim's most complete and perceptive statement of the

problem which began to intrigue him in The Division of Labor. To find
a more adequate conception of the nature and role of differentiation in
"primitive" societies, one must turn from Durkheim himself to a work
which perhaps m arked the beginning of truly modern social and cultural
anthropology in France: The Gift, by Marcel Mauss. Cla u d e Levi-Strauss
has compared the experience of the anthropologist in reading this essay to
that of Malebranche in fi rst reading D escartes. For, despite its suggestively
unfi nished quality and the honeycomb of erudition with which it is laced,
this little essay seems to bring together imaginative conceptualization and
massive evidence in a manner indi cating a life spent in intimate contact with
basic problems and an awareness of the way things fall into place without
losing their local color.
M auss fu lly realized that the fact that one never fi nds one homogeneous
group i n isolation b u t finds always at least two associated groups is indeed a
crucial fact for sociological theory. The idea of an isolated, undifferentiated
horde as the basis of social life was untenable. Thro ugh an analysis of gift
exchange, Mauss sought "a set of more or less archeological conclusions on
t h e nature of human transactions" which a m o unted to little less than a gen
eral theory of the role and nature of differentiation and exchange i n human
societies.44 The fundamental status of the exchange of gifts i n "primitive"
societies revealed the universality of social differentiation which in certain
contexts served to "bind clans together and keep them separate, divide their
labor and constrain them to exchange."45 In his study of the gift, moreover,
Mauss sought "the answer to the questi o n posed by Durkheim about t h e
religious origin o f economic value."46
What underlay and informed the exchange of gifts i n certain societ

ies was a structure of reciprocity that led men i n groups to relate to other
groups through the obligation to give gifts, accept them, and render gifts
in return. Members of indigenous societies conceptualized this structural
principle - which norm atively combined spontaneity and constraint, in
terest and obligation, freedom and necessity - in the idea that immanent
in the gift was a religious and magical force binding people to return what
they received. Thus receiving a gift was a dangerous as well as a gratifying
experience, for it obliged the receiver to reciprocate, at times with increased
largesse, often under the pain of magical sancti on.
Differentiation always implied a measure of conflict among different
iated entities. But in certain cases (e.g., in North A m erica a n d M e l anesia)
"amiable rivalry" compatible with mutual respect gave way to bouts of
excessive, even arrogant, gift-giving whose purpose was to establish po
litical and moral superiori ty. The circle of reciprocity was broken by the
domineering gesture and the unilateral disdain which crushed one's rival
with largesse. G i ft exchange, in a sense, inverted the principle of capitalis
tic accu m u l ation by i n stitutionally requi ring men t o give more than they
took rather than to profit by taking more than they gave. I n the p otlatch
- the "monster child of the gift system" - the "agonistic" component i n
largesse attained t h e tragic level of hubris i n ostentatious disp lay: enormous
quantities of gifts were not given b u t contemptuo usly destroyed or thrown
into the sea. The p o tlatch revealed why men might be feared and suspected
of treach ery, especially when bearing gifts. The fear of the gift one could
not repay was expressed in the ambivalence of the G erman Gift, meaning
both "present" and "poison." I n a s u p p l ementary article on the suicide
of a Gallic chi ef, M auss developed further the extreme complexity of the
moral psychology of gift exchange by recounting the tale of a leader who,
unable to reciprocate in kind, gave the only thing comparable i n value to
what he had received: his life .
But t h e gift in "primitive" societies was never a n isolated p h e n o m e n o n .
I n h i s concept o f the fait social total, Mauss revised and reformulated
Durkhei m's i d ea of a "pri m i t ive n e b u l a . " It was n o t that i d eas were
uniquely confused or differentiations lacking in certain societies, but that
differentiations tended to be cumulative in nature and to engage experience
on a multiplicity of levels simultaneo usly: "In these 'early' societies, social
phenomena are not discrete; each phenomenon contains all the threads of
which the social fabric is composed. In these total social phenomena rJaits
sociaux totaux] , as we propose to call them, all kinds of institutions find
simultaneous expression: religious, legal, moral, and economic. In addition,
the phenomena have their aesthetic aspect and they reveal morphological
types." 4 7
The difference between "primitive" and modern societies that Durkheim
sought could, i n the light of M a uss's ideas, be formulated, I think, as follows.
Certain societies accumulated relations among roles, groups, persons, values,
and ideas in a way which set limits to economic growth and technological
control of nature, but which also implicated people in an intricate, inclu
sive network of spiritual and sym b o l i c relations with o n e another and t h e
cosmos. Modern societies distinguished sharply between nature and culture
(as between humans and other animals), dissociated institutional spheres
from one another (fami ly, j ob , politics, art, religion, and so on), defined
often depersonalized roles in functionally specific ways, objectified nature
in the interest of manipulation and control (at the limit as "raw material" ) ,
and furthered technological mastery and the accu mulation o f eco n o m i c
goods, often ( i f n o t typically) a t t h e expense of the environment. The say
ing "Business is business" was a meaningfully tautological expression of
this orientation. In modern society differentiations tended to b e detached
from one another in relatively clear and distinct, Cartesian compartments
of activity and boxes of experience. Advanced specialization, in the modern
division of labor, was one prominent fo rm of this phenomenon.
What were the implications of this con trast b etween "primitive" and
modern societies for the problem of relating self and society? In "primitive"
societies, the relation between the self and social experience was more en
compassing, like the relation b etween people and nature, b ecause individual
and group gave more of themselves i n each relationship and in more many
sided ways. Individuality was subordinated to personhood in a sense that
m ight dimi nish or even seem to deny any existential distance between th e
individual and his or her roles or subject positions. In ultimate forms, the
individual found meaning for his or her own life in the cosmic archetype
that countered the role, if it did not negate the reality, of chronological,
irreversible time and might to some significant extent mitigate the anxiety
ridden confrontation of the individual with death.
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial labor I 0I
In modern society, each role o r group involved only a delimited invest

ment of the self and called for only a limited commitment, at times largely
restricted to external conformity or the stipulations of a contract mo tivated
by self-interest. Individuality became a keynote of sociocultural lif e, at times
in ways that masked related forms of sometimes extreme dependence on oth
ers. The gro up was less a milieu of existence, the development of the person
less a community project, the "personal" more markedly distinguished fro m
t h e "official" capaci ty, t h e "private" from t h e "public," occupation m o r e a
technically, professi onally, and economically rationalized enterprise, and the
search for identity an individual quest which often produced more weak
books than strong personalities. The way in which a person experienced
thi ngs or related to other people tended to b e "one-d i m e nsional." Reactions
to this state of affairs might prompt various types of group mobilization and
collective affi rmations of, or quests for, a shared identity.
In The Gift, Mauss drew critically accentuated moral and political con
clusions with specific reference to forms of modern society. Analytically, he
con trasted the institutions of a cap italistic economy with those related to
gift exchange.
Let us now test the notion to which we have opposed the idea of gift
and disinterestedness: that of interest and the individual pursuit of
utility . . . . If similar motives animate Trobriand and American chiefs
and Andaman clans and once animated generous Hindu or Germanic
noblemen in their giving and spending, they are not to be found in
the cold reasoning of the businessman, banker or capitalist. In those
earlier civilizations one had interests but they differed from those of
our time. There, if one hoards, it is only to spend later on, to put
people under obligations and to win followers. Exchanges are made
as well, but only of l uxury objects like clothing and ornaments, or
feasts and other things that are consumed at once . . . . It is only our
Western societies that quite recently turned man into an economic
animal. . . . For a long time, man was something quite different; and
it is not so long ago now since he became a machine - a calculat
ing machineY
One might of course qualify Mauss's hyperbole, which to some extent

was polemical, for example, by noting charitable giving in certain capitalistic
contexts. Still, Mauss himself went o n to consider reform i n a tram of

thought revealing that one basic sense i n which Durkheim and his school
were conservative was i n the desire to return to what they saw as bedrock
fundamentals of human existence that were depreciated in modern life
and particularly devalued in capitalistic market-oriented activity. These
elementary fo rms of sociocultural life provided a daily bread of solidarity
and led people to experience the necessary contradictions, liminal invita
tions, and anomie breakthroughs of existence in all their tragic profundi ty.
For Mauss as for Durkheim, basic institutional change adapted to modern
conditions might enable people to find a path back to the wisdom of" primi
tive" societies that was expressed in noble reciprocal gift-giving.
We should return to the old and elemental. Once again we shall

discover those motives of action still remembered by many societies
and classes: the j oy of giving in public, the delight i n generous artis
tic expenditure, the pleasure of hospi tality in the public or private
feast. Social insurance, solicitude in mutuality or cooperation i n
the professional group and all those moral persons called Friendly
Societies, are better than the mere personal security guaranteed by
the nobleman to his tenant, better than the mean life afforded by the
daily wage handed out by managements, and better even than the
uncertainty of capitalist savings . . . . For honor, disinterestedness, and
corporate solidarity are not vain words, nor do they deny the neces
sity for work. We should humanize the other liberal professions and
make all of them more perfect. That would be a great deed, and one
Durkheim already had i n view. I n doing this we should, we believe,
return to the ever-present bases of law, to its real fundamentals and
to the very heart of normal social l i fe.49
The probe into the problems which held the attention of the Durkheim
school has b een continued by a thinker who has acknowledged the indirect
infl uence o f D urkheim and the more direct, informal, and fruitfully personal
influence of Marcel Mauss: Claude Levi-Strauss. La Pensee sauvage ( The
Savage Mind) constituted a nodal point in the development of Levi-Strauss.
( I say more about its relation to D u rkheim's thought when I discuss the re
lation of the human sciences to epistemology.) In this extremely difficult and
professedly provisional pause in his work, Levi-Strauss broached problems
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial labor ! 03
which had b e e n downplayed in the thought o f D urkheim. These problems

included people's perceptual and metaphoric relations with nature, the
mediation between sensation and the intellect, the nature of time, cosmic
structures of experience, and the dialectic between the real and the imagi
nary. Indeed, i t would not be going too far to argue that La Pemee sauvage is
basically a study in the epistemology of perception which em ploys material
drawn from "primitive" or "savage" societies in a "crucial experiment" i n
t h e elaboration of a general theory. I n his own conception of the relation
of sociology to philosophy, Durkheim was fully aware of the symbolic and
structural bases of culture and society, b u t he was bound by a highly specific
metaphysic in his interpretation of this idea. The work of Levi-Strauss goes
beyond Durkhei m's social metaphysic in its contention that the notion of
mutual respect as the complement of self-respect must be extended to the
more generous, less narrowly anthropocentric, idea that one cannot respect
oneself or others without respecting the whole of nature. This gift of broader
solidarity i s entailed in Levi-Strauss's conviction that true humanism must
begin beyond "man" - that it "does not begin w i t h oneself, but places the
world above l i fe, life above man, respect for oth ers above egotism . " A more
intimate knowledge of certain societies enabled Levi-Strauss t o reassert the
primacy of Rousseau in modern cultural thought (and o f the Kant who
was greatly i nfl uenced by Rousseau), whereas Durkheim placed ultimate
faith in a Cartesianized neo- Kantianism which culminated i n a dualistic
conception of mind and body and left little epistemological room for Kant's
faculty of aesthetic j u dgment.
On the more circumscribed problem of the contrast between "primi
tive" and modern societies with respect to the existence of d i fferentiation,
Levi-Strauss observed:
We know the taboo on parents-in-law or at least its approximate

equivalent. Through it we are forbidden t o address the great of this
world and obliged to keep out of their way . . . . Now, in most societies
the position of wife giver is accompanied by social (and sometimes
also economic) superiori ty, that of wife taker by inferiority and depen
dence. This inequality b e tween affines may be expressed obj ectively
in institutions as a A u i d or stable hierarchy, or it may be expressed
subj ectively in the system of interpersonal relations by means of
privileges and prohibitions.
Thus nothing mysterious is attached to these usages which our

own experience unveils to us from the inside. We are disconcerted
only by their constitu tive conditions, different i n each case. Among
ourselves, they are clearly detached from other usages and linked
together in a nonequivocal context. In con trast, i n exotic societ
ies the same usages and the same context are, as it were, ensnared
[englues] in other usages and a different context: that of family ties,
with which they seem to us incompatible. We find it hard to imagine
that in private the son-in-law of the President of the French Republic
should see in him the chief of state rather than the father-in-law. And
although the Queen of England's husband may b ehave as the fi rst
of her subjects in public, there are good reasons for supposing that
he is just a husband when they are alone together. It is either one or
the other. The superficial strangeness of the taboo on parents-in-law
arises from its being both at the same time.
Consequently, as we have found already i n the case of operations
of understanding, the system of ideas and attitudes appears here only
as incarnated . . . . What appears to us [in modern relationships] as
greater social ease and greater intellectual mobility is thus due to t h e

fact that w e prefer to operate with detached pieces [pieces detachees] ,
if not indeed with small change [Ia monnaie de Ia piece] , while the
native is a hoarder: he is forever tying the threads, tirelessly turning
over on themselves all aspects of reali ry, whether physical, social, or
mental. We traffi c in our ideas; he makes of them a treasure. Sav
age thought [Ia pensee sauvage] puts in practice a philosophy of
finitude. 5 0
Freud's concept of transference would complicate Levi-Strauss's formu

lations and lead one to see somewhat differently the relation b etween the
"primitive" and the modern. In any event, the first great theoretical work of
Levi-Strauss, Les Structures element aires de la parente ( The Elementary Struc
ture ofKinship ) , was tacitly posited on the extension o f D u rkheim's category
of organic solidarity (in the sense of differentiation and reciprocity) to the
study of kinship structures in "primi tive" societies. In a summary which
Levi-Strauss gave of his general conclusions, he observed:
Now, in exactly the same way that the principle of sexual division of
labor establishes a mutual dependency b e tween the sexes, compelling
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial labor I05
them thereby to perpetuate themselves and to found a fam ily, the

prohibition of incest establishes a mutual dependency between fami
lies, compelling them, in order to perpetuate themselves, to give rise
to new fam ilies. It is through a strange oversight that the similarity
of the two processes i s generally overlooked on account of the use
of terms as dissimilar as division, on the one hand, and prohibition
on the other. We could easily have emphasized only the negative
aspect of The Division of Labor by calling it a prohibition of tasks;
and co nversely, outlined the posi tive aspect of incest-prohibition
by calling it the principle of Th e Division ofLabor of marriageable
rights between families. For incest-p rohibition simply states that
families (however they should be defined) can only marry between
each other and that they cannot marry inside themselves. 5 1
The role o f differentiation i n "primitive" societies was also investigated

by Levi-Strauss in a study of totemism which preceded La Penst!e sauvage. I n
Le 1otemisme a ujourd'h ui ( 1otemism), h e interpreted totemism on the most
general theoretical level as the assert ion o f a h o m o l ogy between a b i n ary
opposition between natural species and a binary opposition between social
group s . Levi-Strauss found the only specificity of totemism as a cultu ral
phenomenon to be the privileged role of natural species as logical operators.
The logical "similitude," moreover, was postulated neither within society
as a homogeneous whole nor between the group and a natural species. The
"similitude" referred to comparable differences between natural species and
social groups. Durkheim's later theory of religion comprised a conception
of a global totemic institution combining religion, kinship, and alimentary
taboos. In The Elementary Forms ofthe Religious Lfe, Durkheim would argue
that the totem was simultaneously the "family" name of the clan and the
sacred object of religious devotion, and he would center his interpretation
on the idea of an identification between a solidary social group (the clan)
and an essential principle of religi ous meaning asserted by him to be the
"hidden" referent in the figurative and emblematic representation of a natural
species. D u rkheim argued that this "hid d en" referent was society itself, and
religion for Durkheim had an essentially social meaning. For Levi-Strauss,
religion had a social aspect, b u t it included this aspect in a broader network
of relations, including prominently peo ple's relation to nature. To temism
did not have an invariably religi ous function. The logical identity affi rmed
JOG Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
by totemism, moreover, referred to the relation b etween internally differ

entiated series of natural and social groups. And the entire notion of an
original social and cultural complex gravi tating around the totem formed
an untenable "totemic illusi o n . "
Through the usage o f a n animal and plant nomenclature ( i ts unique

distin ctive characteristic), the alleged totemism does no more than
express in its own way - by means of a code, as we would say today
- correlations and oppositions which can be formalized in other
ways, e.g., among certain tribes o f N orth and South America by op
positions of the type sky/earth, war/peace, upstream/downstream,
red/white, etc. The most general model and the most sys tematic ap
plication of this is perhaps to be fo und in China, in the opposition
of the two principles Yang and Yin, as male and female, day and
night, summer and winter, the union of which results in an organized
totality (tao) such as the conjugal p air, the day, or the year. Totemism
is thus reduced to a particular fashion of posing a general problem:
how to make opposition, instead of being an obstacle to integrati on,
serve rather t o produce it.52
Thus totemism for Levi-Strauss amounted to a subcase of the general

problem of making differentiation the ground of integration - the very
problem which Durkheim had earlier conceptualized in terms of organic
solidarity. The highly complex role of more or less comprehensive, cumu
lative differentiations in symbolic systems and social structure (conceived
analytically as one type of symb olic system rather than as an invariably
autonomous, "sui generis realm of social facts") has been fu rther extended
by Levi-Strauss into the study of mythology, a problem area that Durkheim
largely p assed over in silence. Since this aspect of Levi-Strauss's thought
is both the most intricate and the least accessible to the nonspecialist, we
shall have to b e content with its mere mention. It is, however, safe to say
that the thought of Levi-Strauss has thoroughly exploded Durkheim's idea
of simplicity, homogenei ty, and diffuseness as the essence of "primi tive"
societies. In its place, there have arisen problems of such magnitude that
modern social scientists often feel compelled to call upon other specialists,
e.g., mathematicians, and thereby invoke the modern division of labor i n
order t o track certain societies' "primi tive" complexity and possibly tran
shistorical implications.
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial labor 107
But the transcendence of Durkheim's ethnocentrism has in practice

often led to the loss of his profound interest in the nature and course of
modern societies. Judging from Levi-Strauss's own work, the major problem
of the ethnologist is no longer objectivity in relation to experience in other
societies because of his commitments in modern society but detachment
from the problems of modern society because of commitment to the ways
of other societies. This attitude easily shades into elegiac remembrance, a
form of aestheticism which, in its social implications, has little to distinguish
it fro m less elevated forms of escapism and divertissement. Yet it was Levi
Strauss who in his " Inaugural Address" formulated, in spite of his apparent
reluctance, the pregnant possibility sensed by Mauss and vaguely felt by
Durkheim h i m self.
I f i t were - and t h a n k G o d i t is n o t - expected of t h e anthro

pologist that h e presage the fu ture of humanity, no doubt h e would
conceive it, n o t as a prolongation or a transcendence of present
forms, but rather on the model of an i ntegrati on, progressively
u n i fying the ch aracteristics proper to cold societies [ i . e . , t h e type
of order, approximated i n "primitive" societies, which rests on the
primacy of reversible, cyclical time] and hot societies [ i . e . , historically
turbulent change and "progress , " approximated i n modern societ
ies] . His reflection would take u p the thread of the old Cartesian
dream of placing machines, like automata, i n the service of man.
He would follow the traces of this dream i n the social philosophy
of the eighteenth century u p until Saint-Simon. For, in announcing
the passage "from the government of men to the administration of
things," the latter anticipated the distinction between [material]
culture and society and the convers ion, which information theory
and electronics enable us at least to p e rceive as possible, from a type
of civilization which historical b e coming inaugurated in the past
- b u t at the price of a transformation of men into machines - to
an ideal civilization which could succeed in transforming machines
into men. Then, culture having received the b u rden of manufactur
ing progress, society would be lib erated from the millennia! curse
which forced i t to enslave men in order to progress. Thenceforth,
history could make itself. And society - placed above, or below,
h i story - cou l d once again assume t h a t regular and almost crystal
line structure which the best preserved of primitive societies teach
us is not contradictory to human nature. In this perspective, even if

utopian, social anthropology would find its highest justification, for
the forms of life and thought which it studies would no longer have
only historical and comparative interest. T hey would correspond to
a permanent choice for man which social anthropology, especially in
our most somber hours, would have the mission of safeguardingY
This notion of reconciling progress with legitimate order in modern

society, whichDurkheim expressed in his own way in terms of the dialectic
of anomie and a structurally informed conscience collective, brought the
Durkheim school beyond the retrogressive memories ofComte. It showed
the way to an idea of the legitimately conservative possibilities of modern
society. Given the nature of status quo institutions and conditions in mod
ern society, however, this vision increasingly led to what might be called a
selectively radical conservatism requiring basic structural change. For only
structural change would permit the use of modern material culture in ways
compatible with a (re)turn to fundamentals in social life through structural
transformation involving the planned avoidance of unwanted change.
Yet one crucial problem left by Durkheim has not been adequately
resolved by French thinkers influenced by him. Durkheim perceived in
an exaggerated fashion the importance of community in "primitive" so
cieties. Lucien Levy-Bruhl's stress on this idea was even more one-sided.
Durkheim, moreover, increasingly saw the need for significant commu
nity in all "healthy" societies. The problem he lef t was that of the precise
relationship between community and dife
f rentiated structure at various
levels of t he "tree" of social life. A danger in the methodological revision
ism of Claude Levi-Strauss is the radical de-emphasis of the problem of
communtty.
For f urrher insight into this problem, one may turn to Victor Turner,
o n e of the most important English-speaking anthropologists significantly
influenced by the thought of Durkheim. Turner deserves more adequate
coverage than he receives here, for in his treatment ofDurkheim's thought
as a living tradition, he showed himself to be a thinker of a stature com
parable to Levi-Strauss's. I shall confine myself to a few brief indications
of the line of argument in the three concluding chapters of one ofTurner's
most synthetic works, The Ritual Process. 54
Chapter 3 The Divtston ofSocial rabor 1 09
The Ritual Process in a sense revives the problem posed in The Division
of Labor. For Tu rner focuses on the roles of structural differentiation and
communitas as complementary and dialecti cally (or dialogically) related
aspects of the social system. C ommunitas is more diffl cult to grasp than
structure. But a study of it is vital and is related to the understanding of
structure itself.
Communitas is made evident or accessible, so to speak, only through

its juxtaposition to, or hybridization with, aspects of social struc
ture. Just as in Gestalt psychology, flgure and ground are mutually
determin ative, or, as some rare elements are never found i n nature
in their purity but only as components of chemical compounds, so
communi tas can be grasped only in some relation to structure. Just
because the communitas component is elusive, hard to pin down, it
is not unimportant. Here the story o f Lao-Tse's chariot wheel may
b e apposite. The spokes of the wheel and the nave . . . to which they
are attached would be useless, he said, but for the hole, the gap, the
emptiness at the center . . . which is nevertheless indispensable to the
fu nctioning o f the wheel. 55
In this quote, Turner problematizes identity by suggestively linking com

munitas to generative emptiness or absence rather than to any substantial
or reified notion of community. For Turner, moreover, in any society com
munitas may existentially erupt i n the extreme experience of individuals,
e.g., in mystical states. In a relatively stable, ongoing social system, however,
communitas is normatively integrated with structure, for example, in rituals
such as rites of passage that meaningfully relate t h e liminal or transitional
stages of a person's development to his or her life cycle as a whole. In a society
excessively bound by formal structures, communitas may be ideologically
afflrmed by restive segments of the population. Revolution itself represents
a liminal state of society as a w hole. Turner concludes that "communitas
breaks in through the i n terstices of structure, i n liminality; at the edges of
structure, in marginality; and from beneath structure, in inferiority. It is
almost everywhere held to be sacred or ' holy,' possibly b ecause i t transgresses
or dissolves the norms that govern structured and institutionalized rela
tionships and is accomplished by experiences of unprecedented potency. " 5 6
Hence communitas would paradoxically seem related to a certain mode of
anom1e.
II 0 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
Through the concept of communitas, Turner i s able to relate - at

times i n perhaps too facile or insuffl ciently developed a manner - such
seemingly diverse phenomena as "neophytes in the liminal phase of ritual,
sub jugated autochthones, small nations, court j esters, holy mendicants,
good Samaritans, millenarian movements, 'dharma bums,' matrilaterality
in patrilineal systems, patrilaterality in matrilineal systems, and monastic
orders . " 57 The mere indication of the problems Turner treats shows the
continuing relevance of the questions raised i n Durkheim's The Division
of Labor. To some extent, Turner's ideas inform my later discussion of
developments i n D u rkheim's thought.
Theory of Change
After his discussion of mechanical and organic solidarity i n normal

states of society, Durkheim's focus in The Division of Labor shifts to the
process of change, which purportedly has led from one type of solidar
ity to the preponde rance of t h e other. I n view of stereotyped notions of
Durkheim's "static" b i as, it is signiflcant that the question of change is at the
center of his fl rst major work. Increasingly, his reformist goal was the type
of institutional structure that would limit uncontrolled historical change
and establish legitimate order. In this sense, stabilization was indeed his
aim. But, analytically and empiri cally, Durkheim was not oblivious to the
problem o f change. The questionable feature of The Division of Labor and
of Durkheim's thought as a whole is not the neglect of historical change
b u t the i d ea of it Du rkheim at times entertained. D u rkheim often assumed
that an essential similarity of structure in two societies or social types, one
of which was (or was believed to be) in some sense logically "simpler" than
the other, permitted the inference that the second society had evolved his
torically from the first by a process of increasing complexity of structural
devel o p m ent. This preconception enabled the theorist to play havoc with
the relationship between logic and time.
In fa ct, D urkheim's entire evolutionary fram ework i n his first ma
jor work o ften amounted to an uncritical reliance on S p e ncer's idea of
evolution as a movement fro m h o m ogeneity to differentiation. In his
First Princip les, Spencer h a d formulated h i s general i d e a of evolution
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial labor Ill
thus: "Evolution is an integration of matter and concomitant dissipation

of motion; during which the matter passes from a relatively indefinite,
incoherent homogeneity to a relatively definite, coherent heterogeneity; and
during which the retained motion undergoes a parallel transformation."58
In his parody of Spencer, William James brings out the confusion under
the verbiage of this "grand theory" of change from homogeneity to d i f
ferentiation: "Evolution is a change from a no-howish, untalkaboutable,
all-al ikeness to a somehow ish and in general talkaboutable not-all-alikeness
by continuous sticktogetherations and somethingelsifications."5
Durkheim's dependence on d i ffuse ideas of evolution for his model
of change accounted, no doubt, for the fact that The Division of Labor
has no genuine historical dimension. The known process of change - or
"moder n i zation," a term w h i c h is at times a b are-faced euphem ism - i n
"primitive" societies took t h e form o f colonialism, imperialism, a n d "cul
ture contact" with societies which had already attained economic, military,
and technological superiori ty. Yet Durk h e i m h ad little to say about t h i s
process, a process w h i c h c o u l d b e documented historically. Indeed, the
uprooting of "primitive" societies by " h i gher" types of civilization made
the "primitive" man in modern history prone, among other things, to
anomie suicide - a fact which Durkheim did not discuss, even in Sui
cide. Moreover, the modern i n dustrial societies w h i c h most concerned
Durkheim had developed, not from a general type of "primitive" or tra
ditional society, b u t , with a great deal of turmoil, from a feudal past. As
Tocqueville had u nderstood, as experience in France m a d e evident, and
as Durkheim himself seemed to realize in his less grandly theoretical mo
ments, the precise nature of the historical development from a fe udal past
was intim ately related to the specific problems faced by various Western
countries in the modern perio d . In the United States, which l a cked a
pronounced feudal past, a heritage of slavery and racism created severe
d i fficulties for the achievement of consensus in ways which differed ac
cording to region. Of these matters, D urkheim said nothing. And one
of the most blatant omissions in his d i s cussion of modern society in the
West was the absence of any extended treatment of the speci fi c nature of
social structure in G e rmany and its relation to G e rmany's domestic situ
ation and international position. D u rkheim touched upon the "German
II2 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
problem" only i n propagandistic pamphlets toward the end of his life. And
i f h e had wanted to i nvestigate an internal process of change from "primi
tive" cultures to Western practices and beliefs , the logical historical place
to start would h ave been pre-Socratic Greece. The Division of Labor, i n
bri ef, often subordinates real problems and historical processes t o models
at least as abstract as those of the classical economists whom D u rkheim
never tired of criticizing.
Although Durkheim's discussion in The Division ofLabor gives little
historical insight into significant cases o f change, it is noneth e l ess inter
esting fo r his general conception of social process and for what it reveals
concerning h i s u n certainties a b o u t m o d ern society. The abstract quality
of his argument derived largely fro m the fact that he was addressing him
self, not p os i tively to empirical evidence and problems in the analysis of
society, b u t predominantly to the models o f o ther theorists. D u rkheim
presented massive change in soci ety as a process in which integrated social
structures are s ubjected to conditions b eyond their control and w h i ch
results in a transitional phase o f pathological d isord e r b efo re society can
reorganize on new structural bases.
With the fre quently false and superficial rigor of m o n ocausal the
ories of the time, D urkheim selected population pressure as the cause of
the u p s e t in the functional balance o f society. His v a l i d p o i n t was that
demographic conditions are always socially relevant as well as affected
by social fo rces and that a well-ordered society requires a normatively
controlled p o p u lation p o l i cy. In fact, shi fts in pop ulati o n did have spe
cial i m p o rtance in causing unwanted change in " p ri m i tive" societies
where norms and b el i e fs generally functioned to keep p o p ulation down
to manageable proportions. The cmcial role of d e m o graphy in "devel
oping" and m o dern societies has, of course, b e co m e increasingly obvious.
But a methodologically pertinent criticism is that D u rkheim's extreme
monocau salism prevented h i m fro m devoting s u ffi cient attention to
other factors - e . g. , technology and i d e o logy - in processes of maj o r
social change.
Theoretically and ideologically, this model of change, which envisioned
a passage from "normal" structure through a period of "pathological" tran
sition to a new form of "normal" structure, had great imp ortance. For
Du rkheim as fo r earlier thinkers such as Saint-Simon, Comte, and J . S.
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial labor I 13
Mill, modern society was passing through a transitional phase in which

pathogenic causes had not yet been fully transcended. D urkheim's con
ception of utili tarianism was derived from the thought of Bentham and
Spencer, and it was infl uenced by Social Darwinism. Had he studied the
thought of Mill, fo r example, he might have discovered ideas that cor
roborated his own theories. But, given his conception of utilitarianism,
his model of change enabled D u rkheim to situate i t (as well as Social
Darwinism) as a theory relating to a period of rapid transition and social
pathology. D urkheim argued in Social Darwinian fashi o n that pop ulation
pressure caused an increased struggle fo r existence which resulted in time
i n the survival of the fittest. But he did not identify the fittest with those
i ndividuals or social units that m a x i m ized their own self- i n terest or s u rvived
rabid competition and struggle. This entire state of affairs for him was
an aspect of transition and pathology. Rather, he envisioned a process of
evolution that would eventuate in the survival of the fittest form ofsocial
structure, i . e . , the "normal" state that would cooperatively employ the social
contrib utions of all members of society for the common good.
The most obvious interpretation of Durkhei m's assertion that "every
thing happens mechanistically" (tout se passe mecaniquement) is in terms
of a comprehensive positivistic theory o f causation that excludes the pos
sible intervention of human agency and conscious effo rt or control in
the historical p r o cess. Here, however, one must distinguish b e tween the
passage from the normal to the pathological and the passage from the
pathological to the normal. In The Division of Labor, the assertion that
"everything happens mechanistically" appeared in Durkhei m's treatment
of change from one in tegrated social system to the transitional state of
pathology. Apparently, D urkheim did believe that a m aj o r and disorient
ing departure fro m a viably i ntegrated social order was caused initially
by i m p ersonal, mechanistic processes that i n their socially relevant form
were not intended. People did not choose to abandon a traditional mode
of cultural i n tegration: they were fo rced out o f i t by external conditions
such as p o p u lation pressure. Here Durkheim's ideas were similar to those
of both Rousseau and Darwin.
But D urkheim was much less clear ab o u t the relation of mechanistic
pro cess to other factors in the passage fro m pathology to normality. H e
seemed to rely o n a D arwinian noti o n of "natural selection" i n a process
of evolution. And h e argued that one could not attribute the fu nctions
of social institutions to the manifest intentions of social agents. B u t
Durkheim never fully sorted o u t the interaction i n t h e historical process
of such factors as intentional agency, unintended consequence, uncon
scious motivation, ano m i e , and the structure and functioning of institu
tions. Significant ideas he developed are that social consciousness arises
in response to social disorder and that sociology, as the most advanced
consciousness of modern soci ety, has the task of informing meaningful
social action. How these ideas are related t o the over-all understanding of
the historical process or to the more limited question of the intentional
action o f social and political agents remains a blank chapter in Durkheim's
th ought.
Residual Dou bts
One feature o f The Division of Labor that has puzzled many commen
tators is D u rkhei m's extensive treatm e n t of t h e relation of The Division of
Labm to happiness. Yet this question was i m p ortant for Durkheim in terms
ofboth the theories he opposed and the theories he defended. The idea that
the division oflabor as the handmaid of economic growth bri ngs happiness
and is indeed the result of a conscious pursuit of happiness constituted a
favo rite theme of utili tari ans and classical economists. Durkheim did not
investigate the possibility that the pursuit of happiness might function
ideologically as a form of false consciousness. His rejection of the corre
lation between happiness and the division of labor relied u p o n a statistical
means of testing the proposed relationship. Durkheim argued that there
was no positive index of happiness that carried methodological convicti on.
But, h e ob served, there was an obj ective index of collective unhappiness:
the suicide rate. If economic progress brought happiness, the suicide rate
should drop. But "on the con trary, true suicide, i . e . , sad suicide, is in an
endemic state among civilized peoples."Go Thus economic growt h, at least
under the extremely unstable conditions which have accompanied it in
modern history, does not bring happiness. This point would be more fully
elaborated i n Suicide, which responded to the correlation of unhappiness
and suicide i n The Division ofLabor, D urkheim related all disruptive change
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial I_abor II5
to anomie and saw the degree of happiness possible in life to b e dependent

on overcoming runaway (but not all) anomie and simultaneously creating
solidarity in society.
Quite apparent i n the first edition of The Di11ision of Labor was
Durkheim's attempt to find a middle way between the complacency of
utilitarians and the moral nihilism of prophets of doom. If Durkheim at
times in the fl rst edition seemed to share more of the complacency of the
utilitarians and classical economists, it was not because he agreed with their
idea of legitimate order, b ut because h e opti mistically believed in an evo
lutionary movement of modern society toward his own ideal of legitimate
order, however uncertain he may have been about its precise nature or mode
of attainment. Clearly, Durkheim rejected Com te's belief that the division of
labor necessarily entails social disorder. But he was tempted, as he so often
was, to affl rm the opposite of another theorist's view: at times he seemed to
argue that The Di11ision of Labor per se created social solidarity.
Durkheim also wanted to distinguish his position from that of Ferdinand
Tonnies, in whom he saw a theorist with an excessively negative view of
modern soci ety. In fact, Durk h e im's tendentious ideas about "primitive"
societies were due less to ethnocentric noblesse oblige than to a desire to
avoid the dire conclusions of modern prophets of doom. Durkheim tended
to invert Tonnies' equations by finding in modern organic solidarity the
virtues Tonnies placed in "primi tive" Gemeinschaft (community) and to
ascribe to "primitive" mechanical solidarity the defects Tonnies found i n
modern Gese!lschafi (society) . Durkheim at points saw primitive societies as
miniature mass societies without any "organic" structure, characterized by
herd conformity and repressive pu nishments, and held together by bonds
which were weaker and less stable than those i n modern society.6 1 Tonnies,
in Gemeinschafi und Gesellschafi , had stated his position in these terms:
The theory of Gesellschafi deals with the arriflcial construction of an

aggregate of human beings which superflcially resembles the Gemein
schaft ins ofar as the individuals live and dwell together p eacefully.
However, in Gemeinschafi they remain essentially united in spite
of all separating fa ctors, whereas i n Gesellschafi they are essentially
separated in spite of all uniting factors. In the Gesellschaft, as con
trasted with the Gemeinschafi, we find no actions that can be derived
from an a priori and necessarily existing unity; no actions, therefore,
II 6 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
which manifest the will and spirit of the unity even if performed
by the individual; no actions which, i nsofar as they are performed
by the individual, take place on behalf of those united with h i m .
I n the Gesellschafi such actions do not e x i s t . On the contrary, here
everybody is by himself and isolated, and there exists a condition of
tension against all others. 62
Ti:innies asserted that D urkheim's ideas of mechanical and organic soli

darity were "altogether different" (ganz und gar verschieden) from his own.63 In
an I 889 article on T i:innies' book, Durkheim, with comparable in transigence,
made an apparent effort to accentuate the positive in modern society.
The point where I separate myself fro m him is i n his theory of Ge

sellschafi. I f I h ave understood h i m , Gesellschafi is characterized by a
progressive development of individualis m , whose dispersive effects
the state's action could for a while prevent. It would be essentially a
mechanical aggregate; everything that remained of truly collective
life would result not from spontaneity b u t from the entirely exter
nal impulsion of the state. In a word, this i s society as conceived by
Be ntham. Now I believe that the life in great social agglom erations
i s j ust as natural as that i n little aggregates. It is not less organic or
less internal. Beyond purely individual movements, there is in our
contemporary societies a properly collective activity which is as natu
ral as that of smaller societies of the past. I t is assuredly different;
it constitutes a different type, but b etween these two species of the
same genus, however diverse they may be, there is no difference of
nature. To prove i t would take a book.64
T h e book was The Division ofLabor. But the b o o k remained ambiguous

about whether and how existing forms of The Division of Labor or their
d evelopmental tendencies created social and moral solidari ty. The argum ent
concealed a "missing link" i n the evolutionary chain.
Uncertainty also characterized Durkheim's treatment of modern indi
vidualism and irs relation to solidarity. In addition to other aspects of the
problem, Durkheim later tried to distinguish between forms ofindividualism
compatible with solidarity and excessive, atomizing individualism or ego
ism, particularly in the economic sphere. The Division of Labor attempted
to correlate increasing social differentiation, u niversalistic values, and indi-
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial labor II7
vidualism. But its idea of the relation of individualism to solidarity was veiled
in darkness. At times, Durkheim stressed the importance of personal dignity
and the individual choice of a function in keeping with humane values and
one's capacities. At other times, he seemed to argue that all institutionalized
or ideologically shared individualism is the egoistic expression of a self- e f
facing conscience collective - despite his own attempt to base solidarity on
phenomena bound up with modern individualism.
If [modern individualism and the cult of the person] are common

insofar as they are beliefs shared by the community, they are indi
vidual in their object. If all wills are turned toward the same end,
this end is n o t social. Thus individualism is in an entirely excep tional
situation i n the conscience collective. It is from society that it draws
its force, b ut i t is not to society that it attaches us: i t is to o u rselves.
Consequently, i t does not constitute a truly social bond. This is
why theorists who make this sentiment the exclusive basis of their
moral d o ctrine may with j u stice b e met with the reproach that they
dissolve society. 65
Another matter left in doub t i n The Division of Labor was the rela
tionship of differentiation to stratification, class formation, gendered roles,
and structures of domination in society - and their relation, i n turn, to
reciprocity and solidarity. This was a notable omission in a purportedly
general sociology of a world in which the historical price of abundance and
"high" culture for the few had typically been the exploitation of the many.
Here Durkheim's failure to come to terms with M arx and become aware of
Weber lessened drastically the relevance of his sociology to both the under
standing of historical societies and the elaboration of his own concepts of
normality and pathology. And here more than anywhere else is a basis for
the charge that D u rkheim was a "bourgeois id ealist" whose thought d iverted
attention from the realities of historical society. Apparently, D u rkheim did
not believe that functional differentiation n ecessarily involves strati cation
and discrimination or that the nature of a function somehow entails a dif
ferential evaluation of roles or groups in terms of higher and lower. B u t he
apparently did believe that all differentiated social orders were correlated
with some typ e and measure of stratification which in modern society would
be based on merit or achievement.66
What the causes, mechanisms, consequences, o r principles of this

correlation might be, either typologically or universally, was never fully
examined by D urkheim. Even i n his proposed model of a normal, soli
daristic form of modern society, he did not offer a sustained, searching,
and detailed enquiry into the problem of power, prestige, and economic
reward in various institutional spheres and in the overall social order.
Only certain elementary ideas emerged fro m h i s discussions, and they
were hardly adequate to the problems raised. These ideas are discussed
in the next two chapters.
Contract and Solidarity
D urkheim's tacit acceptance of Spencer's conception of evolution was

not i n d i cative of his estimation, in The Division ofLabor, of the thought
of the English theorist. His generally critical reaction to Spencer is m o s t
apparent in B o o k I, chapter v i i , i n which he contrasts Spencer's idea of
co n tractual s o l i darity w i t h h i s own i d e a of organic solidarity. T h i s piv
otal chapter immediately precedes D u rkheim's discussion of change fro m
mechanical t o organic s o l i d arity, b u t i t i n troduces t h e concluding section
o n pathological forms of The Division of Labor by bringing o ut ways i n
which development i n modern society has n o t reached a stage adequate
to serve as a functional b as is of solidarity.
For Spencer, industrial society was based u p o n a vast cash nexus of
private contracts sanctioned b y a laissez-faire police state. "The typical
fo rm of social relation would be the economic relation stripped of all
regulation. " 6 7 If this kind of market relationship characterized society,
Durkheim reasoned, there w o u l d b e little i f any solidarity.
In the fact of econo m i c exchange, the d i fferent agents remain out

side one another, and with the termination o f the operation each
one E nds himself alone again. Consciences are only s u perfl cially i n
contact; they neither penetrate nor adhere strongly to one another.
If one gets to the bottom of things, one will see that all harmony
of interests conceals a conflict which is latent or simply adjourned.
For where interest reigns alone, there is nothing to restrain egoism,
and each ego E nds itself on a warlike footing with all others. Any
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial labor II9
truce to this eternal antagonism cannot b e long-range. Indeed,

i n terest is the least constant of all things in the w orld. Today it is
in my interest to unite with you. Tomorrow the same reason will
make me your enemy. 68
Thus Ti:innies' critique, excluded by the fro n t door, seemed to gain

entry b y the b ack. D urkheim's own position was summed up in the as
sertion that "not everything is contractual in the contract."69 D u rkheim
meant that the contract could not b e reduced to ad hoc acts o f will among
private parties, b u t that it presupposed a framework of norms and laws
upheld and sanctioned by social agencies. As examples, he cited the re
quirements of the French Code, which fo rbade the making of contracts
by an incompetent and contracts concerning things which could n o t b e
sold o r involving illicit dealings. There were also posi tive obligations i n
contract law, fo r instance those enabling a j u dge t o grant a delay t o a
debtor under certain conditions.
The crucial substantive question, however, was whether and t o what
extent the i n terve n t i o n of the state or o ther social agencies was restricted
to p o lice fu nctions and the enforcement of the rules of the game in a
profl t-oriented market economy. Were the conditions of organic solidar
ity fulfl lled by the pursuit of self- interest in market relationships as long
as one did not break the law (thro ugh theft, fraud, and so on)? In other
words, w a s D urkheim a t b es t scoring a debater's points against Spencer
by presenting an academic reinterpretation of the same facts, or was h e
arguing that solid arity i n society required structural bases very different
fro m those envisaged by Spencer and the economists?
At this j uncture of the argument, Durkheim began to make critical
comments and to lay down general principles which took him far b eyon d
legal procedures o r the " formal" freedom o f contracting parties and i n t o
substantive considerations o f social j ustice. T h i s prerequisite of solidarity
in society cannot be conceived as the automatic resultant of market forces
or even as a possible achievement of a Keynesian welfare state. Du rkheim's
remarks i m p l y that b asic structural reform i s required to provide the
ground work of soli darity in society.
No doubt, when men unite by contract, i t is because simple o r com

plex division oflabor has made them need one another. But for them
I 20 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
to cooperate harmoniously, it is not sufficient for them to enter into

relations nor even to feel the state o f mutual dependence i n which
they find themselves. It is further necessary that the conditions of
this cooperation be fixed fo r the entire duration of their relation
ship. I t is necessary that the duties and rights of each be d efined, not
only in view of the situation as it presents itself at the moment of
contract, but in prevision of circumstances which may develop and
modify it. Indeed, it is necessary not to forget that i f the division of
labor makes i nterests interdependent, it does not confound them;
it leaves them distinct and rival. . . . Each contracting party, while in
need of the other, seeks to obtain what he needs at the lowest price,
that is, to acquire the most rights possible in return for the fewest
obligations possible.7
For solidarity to be created in this context, the conscience collective re

lating differentiated functions would have to stipulate institutional norms
that would establish and sanction relational conditions of reciprocity. Only
the generally accepted norm could locate the "middle term between the
rivalry of interests and their solidarity. " Hence Durkheim concluded that
"there is only a difference of degree between the law which regulates con
tractual o b l i gations and [ t h e laws] which fix other social duties of citize n s . "
And he asked whether the absence of effective social control of key sectors
of the economy "was n o t the effect of a morbid state" of society.7 1
Significantly, however, Durkheim realized that regulative norms would
not eliminate all conflict i n society. Although he did not devote adequate
attention to the problem of conflict in its various fo rms and functions, he
did see that conflict in itself was not "path o l ogical" a n d that, w i t h i n l i m i ts,
it might be conducive to "normal" integrati o n . "Normal" social o rder, he
believed, was not static equilibrium. Confl ict was one component of social
dynamics. The pathological began only when confl ict was unregulated.
To what extent confl ict should be regulated in order to arrive a t a "middle
term" - a normative golden mean or compromise formation that could
not be conflated with a status quo juste milieu - was a diffi c u l t question
Durkheim never fully answered. But, in general, M auss's term "amiable
rivalry" well expressed Durkheim's i d e a .
Durkheim went o n t o reject the myth o f freedom of contract and to
pose the problem of the relation between bargaining positions in society and
Chapter 3 77u Division ofSocial labor I 2I
the social regulation of contract. For Spencer, the object of contract was to
ensure that the worker received the equivalent of the outlay his work cost
him. Durkheim believed that contract could never fill such a role without
contracts "being much more closely regulated than they are today." Classical
economists replied that the law of supply and demand would automatically
re-establish economic equilibrium. Durkheim countered that this view
neglected the social fact that workers living in poverty could not move
on to higher paying jobs. Even for classes with greater mobility, changes
of occupation took time. "In the meanwhile, unjust contracts which are
antisocial by definition have been executed with the complicity of society,
and, when equilibrium has been established at one point, there is no reason
for its not breaking up at another."72
In one of his veryfirst articles, Durkheim was even more explicit about
the myth of equating formal legal freedom with real contractual freedom
in society:
What can the poor worker reduced to his own resources do against
the rich and powerful boss, and is there not a palpable and cruel irony
in assimilating these two forces which are so manifestly unequal? If
they enter into combat, is it not clear that the second will always and
without difficulty crush the first? What does such a liberty amount
to, and does not the economist who contents himself with it become
guilty of taking the word for the thing?73
In the discussion of contract and organic solidarity in The Division of

Labor, Durkheim went on to draw a very radical conclusion from the idea
of social justice:
If a contract is not just, it is destitute of all authority. In any case,

the role of society cannot be to reduce itself to the passive execu
tion of contracts. It must also determine under what conditions
they are executable and, if necessary, restore them to their normal
form. The agreement of parties cannot render just a clause which
in itself is unjust, and there are rules of justice whose violation
social justice must prevent, even if it has been consented to by the
interested parties.74
Thus even when society depended most fully o n The Division ofLabor,
It could not resolve itself into "a dust of j uxtaposed atoms" having only
"exterior and passing contacts" with one another. According to Durkheim,
people cannot live together "without mutual understanding and, conse
quently, without becoming bound to one another in a strong and durable
manner. All soci ety is a moral society . . . . The individual is not sufficient
unto himself."75
Modern Social Pathology
Durkheim's reflections on contract were continued i n his concluding

section on pathological forms of the division of labor. In the pathological
state, the division of labor did n o t fu nction to create solidarity but, on th e
contrary, was related to social crisis and disease. Biology, for Durkheim,
was the science with the greatest interest for sociology, although he always
made clear that this interest was limited to the metaphors and analogies that
biology might provi d e . The two sets of concepts with bio logical analogues
that had greatest importance for sociology were, of course, the notions of
structure and fu nction and the distinction between the normal and the
pathological. Aside fro m his general methodol ogical belief t h at in sociol
ogy as in biology the study of the pathological was complementary to the
study of the normal, Durkheim turned to the study of p athology for the
specific reason that historically the division of labor "would not have been
the object of such grave accusations if i t really did not deviate more or less
from the normal state."76 Thus, despite the apparent conviction in his first
major work that society in time would "mechanisti cally" tend to assume
a normal or i ntegrated form, Durkheim did recognize that this condition
had not yet been reached.
The pathological forms Durkheim treated were the anomie, the fo rced,
and what might be termed the alienated, division oflabor. It is significant that
his core concept of anomie made its first appearance in his earliest work and
in a context i n t i m ately related to i llegitimate constraint or expl o i tative struc
tures. In fact, the concept of anomie, which was to receive its fu ll theoretical
development in Suicide, already took on in The Division ofLabor features of
what Marx had conceived as structural contradictions in society.
Durkheim b egan his discussion of the anomie division of!abor by giving

specific cases, some of which he also included in Suicide: "The fi rst case of
this genus is furnished by industrial or commercial crises, by bankruptcies,
which are so many partial ruptures of organic solidarity; they bear witness
to the fact that at certain points of the organism, certain social functions
are not adjusted to one another." Instead of decreasing with the division
of labor, industrial and commercial crises had increased with its advance.
Durkheim recognized, however, that crises could not be unequivocally
correlated with economic growth in general, for enterprises had become
concentrated to a greater degree than they had multiplied. Indeed, he went
on to observe that "small industry, where labor is less divided, offers the
spectacle of a relative harmony between worker and boss; it is only in big
industry that conflicts are in a b i tter state."77 Anomie i n big industry, ac
cording to Durkheim, was due to an absence of functional coordination. He
did not consider the possibility that impersonal bureaucratic organizations
which minutely coordinated functions and roles on an i nstrumental and
formally rational level might produce anomie on the level of substantive
irrational ity by denying or marginal izing face-to-face relations and foste r i n g
meani n gless human relationships.
Durkheim found a "more striking" case of anomie in the confl ict of
labor and capital. "To the extent that industrial functions become more
specialized, so far from solidarity increasing, the struggle becomes more
lively."78 Relying on Emile Levasseu r's Les Classes ouvrieres en France jusqua
Ia Revolution ("The Working Classes i n France up to the Revolution," 1 8 5 9 ) ,
Durkheim observed that before the fifteenth century conflicts had been
i n frequent, largely becau se master and apprentice were almost equals. In
many metiers, the apprentice could look forward to becoming a master in
his turn. Beginning with the fifteenth century, conditions b egan to change,
but confl icts remained restricted to matters bearing on specific grievances.
With the coming of b i g i n dustry in the seventeenth century, the third stage
i n the process of growing class conflict b rought the separat i o n of worker
and boss, the genesis of two alien "races" i n the fa ctories, and the b i rth of
revolutionary ideologies.
After this brief but illuminating slice of history, Durkheim enunciated
his own idea of the close relationship between anomie and exploitation.
In a sense, social disorder derived b o th from the absence of the right kind
of regulation and the presence of the wrong kind o f regulation. More

speciflcal!y, exploitation could b e seen as an element in a broader fl eld
of anomie, for i t involved an irrational contradiction b e tween the condi
tion or institutional position of a group and its values and needs, i f not
t h e values and needs o f society as a whole. A t this point i n t h e argument,
D u rkhei m's faith in a "mechanistic" trend over time toward integration
began to falter; at most, he believed that i ntegrati o n would be achieved only
in a p ost-revolutionary phase of social pathology. In a pre-revolutionary
social context, "mechanistic" and impersonal processes would not be forces
for integration and solidarity.
There is, h owever, one case where anomie can be produced even
though contiguity [among functions] i s suffl ci ent. It i s when the
necessary regulation can be established only at the price of transfor
mations of which the social structure is no longer capable: because
the plasticity of societies i s not indefl nit e. When i t is at its end, it
may make impossible even necessary changes.79
Thus, according to Durkheim, society might E nd itself i n a structural

bind in which a historical conjunction of anomie and exploitative insti
tutions would require revolution for possible structural transformation.
D u rkheim never beli eved that in the modern context violent apocalypse
was necessary fo r structural reform - he never considered it sufflcient i n
a n y context - b u t he did increasingly see the need for basic structural
change effected through arduous, i f ill-defined, effort.
By this point in the argument, the full range of Durkheim's concept of
anomie, which receives fuller exposition in Suicide, becomes more evident.
In the E rst edition of The Division of Labor, Durkheim did provide suf
flcient grounds for rejecting any attempt simply to identify anomie with
a total absence of institutions, norms, or values - a situation which in
Du rkheim's usage of the term "anomie" constitu ted only an extreme case.
The D u rkheimian defl nition of "anomie" referred to the absence of gen
erally accepted limiting norms. Thus contradictions in the social system,
including normative contradictions, were, in D urkheim's sense, anomie
because there was no norm of a higher order t o resolve the structural
problems that they caused. And institutions or ideologies might be anomie
i n the sense t h at they i m posed limitless assertion or expans i o n , which for
Durkheim was invariably bound up with substantive irrationality in the

larger soci ety. One cannot b egin to understand the full extent to which
Durkheim had a notion of substantive reason and the ways i n which
his concept of social pathology has o ften been distorted if one does not
understand the scope and implications of his concept of anomie and the
importance fo r him of an institutionally based sense of legitimate limits
in society.
I n The Division of Labor, as i n Suicide, D u rkheim treated as anomie
an institutional system which structurally imposed limitless, maximizing
activity upon members of society: a profit-oriented market economy. His
ideas on the anomie "anarchy of the market" coincided with those of both
C o m te and Marx, who i n this circumscribed respect were in agreement.
Durkheim wrote: 'Today there are no longer rules which fix the number
of economic enterprises and, i n each branch of industry, production i s not
regulated i n a way that m akes i t remain at the level of consumption . . . . This
lack of regulation does not permit a regular harmony of functions."80
Although he prudently refrained from making prescriptive recom
mendations on the necessity of social control for integrati on and solidarity,
Durkheim did go on to assert that the economists' idea of the re-establishment
of economic equilibrium through the free play of market forces ignored the
social havoc wrought by the market. "The economists demonstrate, it is true,
that this harmony becomes re-established by itself when it is necessary, thanks
to the rise or fall of prices which, according to needs, stimulates or slows
down production. But in any case it re-establishes itself in this way only after
ruptures of equilibrium and more or less prolonged troubles ."8 1
D u rkheim found another case of anomie in modern society in the lack
of coordination among specialized disciplines: "Science, which is fragmented
into a multitude of detailed studies which do not fi t together, no longer forms
a solidary whole. What manifests best this absence of concert and unity i s
the widespread theory that each particular science has a n absolute value. "82
Hence Durkheim did not endorse the tendency toward the autonom ization
of differentiated spheres of activity in modern society. The integration of
science and of society were companion goals of his endeavor. And his line
of thought implies that structural change and cultural reorientation are the
prerequisites for making any i nterdisciplinary study of modern society more
than a large-scale investigation of fragmentation, partial truths, and internal
inconsistencies. Without such change, the university itself threatened to be

a rather vacuous idea - an i nsubstantial catch-all for a series of expansive
microcosms gravi tating in their own orbits.
Next Durkheim turned to the "constrained" (in the sense of "forced")
division of labor; the discussion both resumed his enquiry into contract and
overlapped with his treatment of anomie. He began with a pregnant obser
vation that reveals his full awareness that certain types of laws or institutional
norms might abet confl ict, disorder, and malaise in society.
It is not sufficient t h at there be rules, however, because sometimes the

rules themselves are the causes of evil. This is what occurs in class wars.
The institution of classes [apparently intended here to signifY orders
or estates] or of castes constitutes an organization of The Division of
Labor, and it is a strictly regulated organization; i t is, nevertheless, a
frequent cause of dissensi ons. The lower classes, not satisfied, or no
longer satisfl ed, with the role which custom or law has devo lved upon
them, aspire to dispossess those who are exercising these functions.
From this there arise civil wars, which result fro m the manner in which
labor is distributed.s3
Thus the problem of s o c i a l conflict was not entirely ignored in

D u rkheim's first major work. In a d i rect criticism o f Tarde's theory of imi
tation, Durkheim recognized that rising expectations might be involved i n
the genesis o f social confl ict, perhaps a s o n e component o f a more compre
hensive process of structural change and social uprooting. His ideas on this
subject were similar to Vilfredo Pareto's theory of the "circulation of elites."
Imitation of one class by another takes place only if there are "predisposing
grounds." "For needs to spread from one class to another, it is necessary that
differences which originally separated the classes should have disappeared
or diminished. It is necessary, through changes produced in soci ety, that
some become competent in functions which formerly were beyond them,
while others lose their original superiority."84 Once a lower class perceived
that opportunities fo r its growing ability to exercise certain functions were
closed off, it was m otivated to assert its prerogatives, if need be through
revolutionary action.
Durkheim distinguished sharply b etween constraint, in the sense of
obligation rooted in commitment to legitimate norms, and pathological
constraint based upon pure power and the reality or threat of force and vio
lence. "If the commitment which I have torn fro m someone by threatening
him with death is morally and legally null, how could it be valid if, in order
to obtain it, I have profited from a situation of which I was not the cause,
it is true, b u t which puts someone else under the necessity of yielding to
me or dying? "ss Durkheim believed that in modern society the creation of
solidarity depended upon the abolition of illegitimate constraint both i n
j o b opportunities and i n the interrelations o f groups and functions. On the
level of j o b opportunity, the democratic values of modern society enjoined a
more complete passage from inherited status to the recognition of equality
of opportunity and achievement. In an article on Albert Schaeffle written
eight years before the publication of The Division of Labor, Dur k h e i m was
quite clear about the need fo r one basic type o f individual lib erty in modern
society:
I f by these words [ " i ndividual l i b erty"] o n e means the faculty of

violating the principle of causality, of withd rawing from all social
milieus in order to posit oneself as an absolute, there is no merit
i n sacrifi cing it. It i s a sterile independence; it is the plague of all
morality. The one thing which must be upheld is the right to choose
a m o n g all fu nctions the one which we j udge to be the most in accord
with our nature.86
In The Division ofLabor, the idea of equality of opportunity as a func

tional prerequisite of integration in modern society led Durkheim to a very
radical conclusion that he would later expand and modifY.
If one class in society is obliged, in order to live, to have its services

accepted at any price, while another class can do without them, thanks
to the resources i t controls - not necessarily because of some social
superiority - the second unjustly imposes its law upon the first. In
other words, there cannot be rich and poor fro m birth without there
being unjust contracts.87
Tru e equality of opportunity, unj ustly inhibited b y existing fo rms offamilial

inheritance of wealth, was for D urkheim made all the more necessary by
the collapse o f religious legitimation of the social order. The humanistic
conception o f social structure as a purely human creation laid it open

to the claims of people. As an entirely human work, "it could no longer
oppose itself to human demands." This circumstance made the reconcili
ation of The Division ofLabor with an " i d e a l of spontaneity" all the more
imperative.88 Equality of opportunity was the first functional prerequisite
of j ust contract and solidarity in modern soci ety. But it was also necessary
"to relate functions to one another."89 This was possible only i f f unctional
contributions were fl exibly limited and adjusted to one another by shared
norn1s.
Durkheim's concept of achievement cannot be identified with a gener
alized performance principle in society. Limitless competitive achieving
was fo r h i m a conspicuous case of ano m ie. Ach ieve m e n t in Durkheim's
"normal" society had the very classical meaning of fulfi lling oneself i n
ways complementary to the self-fulfi llment of others. Limitless striving
would be restricted to a marginal aspect of the average personality and to
marginal groups of exceptional individuals. This line of argument again
brought D u rkheim face to face with the need fo r a conscience collective in
modern society.
The last pathological form of The Division of Labor was left unnamed
by Durkheim. But the concept of alienation expresses his basic idea. This
pathological form was exemplifi ed in the extreme division oflabor i n which
functions "were distributed in such a way that they did not offer suffi cient
matter for the activity of individuals." Here Durkheim took yet another
step away fro m the economists and what has become known as Taylorism
or Fordism. In so doing, he did not content himself with the discovery of
a " h u m a n factor" among the resou rces mobilized by the process of pro
duction. His conception of the normal state of the division of labor was
directly oriented to the human worker rather than the economic process.
The division o f labor imposed duties i f, and only if, it provided the means
for an in-depth development of the self compatible with reciprocity with
others. " H owever one m ay represent the moral ideal," Durkheim remarks,
"one cannot remain indifferent to a degradation of human nature. If mo
rality has as its goal the perfection of the individual, i t cannot permit the
individual to be ruined to such a degree; i f it has society as its end, i t can
not let the very source of moral lif e stagnate: fo r the evil does not menace
economic functions alone, but all social functions, however elevated they
may b e . "90 Thus D urkheim's indictment of the d i lettantism of Renais

sance man, which he correlated with undemocratic forms of elitism, was
complemented by an equally severe indictment o f extreme specialization.
M o reover, h e fu lly recognized that i m p roving leisure-time activities and
the level of general culture did not resolve the problem of making jobs
meaningfu l. "The division of labor does n o t change its nature b e cause i t
i s preceded b y general culture. No d o u b t i t is good for the worker to be
able to interest himself i n art, literature, etc. But i t is n o less bad fo r him
t o b e treated all day l o n g like a mach i n e . " 9 1
B y t h i s point, i t should b e obvious where the "missing link" between
the division of labor and solidarity was to b e fo und: in the specifically
sociological issue of the institutional organization of the division of labor
with respect to legitimate, limiting norms and substantive values, as well
as the historical processes which might lead to the genesis of a desirable
state of society. It was not the division o f labor per se which created either
solidarity or disorder, b u t the nature of the division of labor and the way
in which it was institutionally organized.
Durkheim's d i d not i n h i s first m aj o r work an alyze closely existing
social realities and the ways i n which they might be transformed to make
society more livab l e . He o ffered no systematic investigation of the state,
bureaucracy as an institutional form, the army, the economy, education,
the fam i ly, gender, religion, existing occupations, and their i n terrelations
in society as a whole. His treatment of the economy was confined to the
specific features that concerned him most from a moral point of view. He
did not, for example, treat capitalism as an institutional system and attempt
to trace its stages of development or project its probable course. Nor did he
try to apply his concepts of normality and pathology i n a consistent appre
ciation and critique of existing realities. It was, to some extent, annoyance
at D urkheim's failure to investigate more intensively existing social fo rces
and their concrete effects on the lives of human b e ings that prompted his
own disci p l e Celestin B o ugie to observe i n a 1 9 0 1 article, " T h e o ries of
the Division o f Labor," in the Annee sociologique itself:
One can indeed fear that the division of labor, as i t becomes per
fected, tends in certain respects to isolate individuals and make il
lusory the interrelations formerly believed to be effective in creating
consensus among people. When relations between produ cers and

consumers, or entrepreneurs and workers, remain direct and man
to-man, then one might b elieve that specialization brings with it
certain associations of ideas and sentiments which naturally i n c l i n e
those whom i t brings i n contact t o respect o n e another. B u t when
these relations become abstract, when some work for others without
being i n contact with o r seeing one another, can the moral effect
be the same? Is not one of the consequences of the role of money
i n our societies the replacement almost everywhere o f concrete,
living, and h u m a n relationships by i m personal and abstract rela
tions? . . . To the extent that the division of labor is responsible fo r
the development of o ur entire commercial system, one can say that
it makes habitual the tendency no longer t o see men above things,
[but] to treat men as things.92
Durkheim's own discussion of anomie, fo rced, and alienated forms of

the division of labor - despite its extreme generality and hypothetical
air - did imply the necessity of basic structural reforms b efore solidarity
could b e created in modern society. Like all of Durkheim's major w o rks,
The Di11ision of Labor ended with a call to action:
We fee l only too m uch how laborious a task it is to build this so

ciety where each individual will have the place h e merits, will be
rewarded as he deserves, and where everybody, consequently, will
spontaneo usly work for the good of each and all. . . . It has been said
with j ustice that morality - and b y this must be understood not
only moral doctrines b ut customs - is going through a real crisis.
What precedes can h e l p us to u n d e rstand t h e nature and causes o f
this sick condition. Profo u nd changes have been prod u ced i n the
structure o f our societies i n a very short time . . . . The functi ons
which have been disrupted i n the course o f the upheaval have not
had time to adjust themselves t o one another; t h e new life which
has e m e rged so suddenly has n o t been able to b e co m e com pletely
organized, and above a l l , it has n o t been organized in a way t h at
satisfies the need for j u stice which has grown more ardent in o u r
hearts. I f this i s so, t h e remedy for t h e evil is not t o seek t h e revival
of traditions and practices which, no longer corresponding to pres
ent conditions of society, can live only an artificial, false life. What
we m ust do is bring this a n o m i e to an e n d and fi n d the means for
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial labor I3 I
making the organs which are still wasting themselves in discordant

movements concur harmoniously . . . . In a word, our fi rst duty is to
create a morality . . . . What refl ection can and must do is mark the
goal that must b e attained. That is what we h ave tried to do.93
Hence, the requirement for solidarity was to create a morality not in

t h e abstract or purely discursively but with respect t o institutional practices
and forms of social relation. What social and political agents might respond
to this call was a question not raised, much less answered, by Durkheim.
But Durkheim seemed to conclu d e , however haltingly, that community
and differentiated structure were complementary elements o f society and
culture that all normal types of society would h ave to integrate in their
own specifl c ways.
J 32 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
Notes
1. Robert Nisbet, ed., Emile Durkheim (Englewood Cliffs, N . J . : Prentice Hall,

1 96 5 ) , p . 3 0 .
2. The Structure of Social Action: A Study in Social Theory (first pub. 1 937;
Glencoe, Ill.: Free Press, 1 949), p . 3 0 8 .
3. Pragmatisme et sociologie (Paris: Librairie Philosophique J . Vrin), 1 9 5 5 .
4. George Lichtheim, Origins ofSocialism (New York: Praeger, 1 9 68), p . 5 6 .
5. Preface to 1 st ed., D e L a Division d u travail social (7th e d . ; Paris: Presses
U niversitaires de France, 1 960 ), p. xliii.
6. Raymond Lenoir, " L'Oeuvre sociologique d'Emile Durkheim , " Europe, XXII
( 1 93 0 ) , 294.
7. Celestin Bougie, ibid. , p . 2 8 1 .
8. Bougie, ibid.
9. Marcel Mauss, I n trod., 1 st ed., Emile Durkheim, L e Socialisme; i n Socialism,
trans. Charlotte Sattler (New York: Collier Books, 1 9 5 8 ) , p. 34.
1 0. Division d u travail social, p . 393.
11. Division du travail social, p . 393.
12. Les Regles de la methode sociologique ( 1 5th ed.; Paris: Presses U niversitaires de
France, 1 96 3 ) , p . 82.
13. Ibid. , p. 83.
14. Structure and Function i n Primitive Societies (London: Cohen & West, 1 9 6 1 ) ,
p . 1 29 .
1 5. Division du travail social, p . 46.
1 6. Ibid., p . xlii.
17. Ibid. , p. 29.
18. Le Suicide (first pub. 1 8 97; Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1 9 60), p .
426.
1 9. Marcel Mauss, " I n Memoriam: COeuvre inedite de Durkheim et d e ses col
laborateurs," A mu!e sociologique, n . s . , 1 ( 1 92 3 ) , 9.
20. L'Education morale (first pub. 1 92 5 ; Paris: Presses Universitaires de France,
1 963 ) , p. 1 3 9 .
21. Ibid. , p. 1 4 7.
22. Regles de fa methode sociologique, pp. 7 1 -72.
23. Ibid. , p. 70.
24. Ibid. , p . 68.
25. Leons de sociologie (Paris: Presses Universitai res de France, 1 960), p. 1 42 .
26. Mauss, " I n Memoriam," p . 1 2 .
27. Edwin Hardin Sutherland, White Collar Crime (New York: Dryden Press, 1 949).
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial rabor 133
2 8 . The Human Sciences and Philosophy, trans. Hayden V. White and Robert
Anchor (f rst p u b . 1 966; London: Cape Editions, 1 9 69), p. 3 8 .
2 9 . Ibid. , p p . 3 8 , 40.
3 0 . "Crime et sante sociale," Revue philosophique, XXX ( 1 8 95 ) , 520-5 2 1 .
3 1 . Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents (Garden City, N .Y. : Double-
day Anchor Books, 1 9 5 8 ) , p. 9 0 .
3 2 . A mu!e sociologique, I V ( 1 899- 1 90 0 ) , 6 5 - 9 5 .
3 3 . Ibid. , p. 70.
3 4 . Education morale, p. 1 5 4.
3 5 . Marcel Mauss, review of\'V: H . Rivers, The Todas, i n A n nee sociologique, XI
( 1 906- 1 90 9 ) , 3 1 4.
3 6 . Review of S.-R. Steinmetz, "Das Verhaeltniss zwischen Eltern and Kindem
bei den Naturvoelken , " in A n nee sociologique, I I I ( 1 898- 1 8 9 9 ) , 446.
37. Education morale, pp. 1 64- 1 6 5 .
3 8 . Ibid. , p. 1 6 1 .
3 9 . Division du travail social, pp. 1 49ff.
4 0 . Ibid. , p. 1 5 0.
4 1 . Ibid.
42. "Sociologie et sciences sociales , " Revue philosophique, LV ( 1 9 0 3 ) , 477-478.
43. Pragmatisme et sociologic, pp. 1 9 1 - 1 92 .
44. Marcel Mauss, The Gft, trans. Ian Cunnison (frst pub. 1 92 5 ; New York:
Norton, 1 9 67).
45. Ibid. , p. 7 1 .
4 6 . Ibid. , p. 7 0 .
47. Ibid. , p. 1 . Mauss related the study of total social phenomena to a "holistic"
methodology conceived in terms reminiscent ofHegel: "We are dealing then
with something more than a set of themes, more than institutional elements,
more than institutions, more even than systems of institutions divisible into
legal, economic, religious and other parts. We are concerned with 'wholes,'
with systems in their entirety . . . . I t is only by considering them as wholes
that we have been able to see their essence, their operation and their living
aspect, and to catch the fleeting moment when the society and its members
take emotional stock of the mselves and their situation as regards others . . . .
H i s torians believe and j ustly resent the fact that sociologists make too many
abstractions and separate unduly the various elements of society . . . . Whereas
fo rmerly sociologists were obliged to analyse and abstract rather too much,
they should now fo rce themselves to reconstitute the whole . . . . The study of
the concrete, which is the study of the whole, is made more readily, is more
interesting and furnishes more explanations in the sphere of sociology, than
the study of the abstract" (pp. 77-78 ) . Mauss's discussion of the foit social
134 Emile Du rkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
total, however, often seemed to lead more in the direction of apprehending the
complex, overdetermined, and hybridized - rather than totalized - nature
of certain "concrete" social and cultural phenomena or processes.
48. Ibid. , pp. 73-74.
49. Ibid. , p. 67.
50. La Pensr!e sauvage (Paris: Plan, 1 962 ) , pp. 3 5 2 - 3 5 3 .
51. Claude Levi-Strauss, "The Family, " i n H. Shapiro, e d . , Man, Culture, and So
ciety (frst pub. 1 9 5 6 ; New Yo rk: Oxford University Press, 1 96 0 ) , p. 277.
52. Le Totr!misme aujourd'hui (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1 96 2 ) , pp.
1 27 - 1 2 8 .
5 3 . Claude Levi-Strauss, "Ler;:on inaugurale," Jan. 5 , 1 96 0 , College d e France,
No. 3 1 , pp. 43-44.
54. Victor Turner, The Ritual Process (Chicago: Aldine, 1 96 9 ) .
5 5 . Ibid. , p. 1 27.
5 6 . Ibid. , p . 1 2 8 .
5 7 . Ibid. , p . 1 2 5 .
5 8 . Herbert Spencer, First Principles (New Yo rk: Appleton, 1 8 6 4 ) , p. 407.
59. Quo ted i n Gilbert Highet, The Art ofleaching (New York: Knopf, 1 9 54), p.
207.
60. Division du travail social, p . 226.
6 1 . Ibid. , p . 1 2 0 .
6 2 . Ferdinand Ti:innies, Co mmunity and Society, Charles Loomis, trans. and ed.
(New Yo rk: Harper Torchbooks, 1 963) , p . 64.
6 3 . Quoted in Harry Alpert, Emile Durkheim and His Sociology (f rst pub. 1 93 9 ;
New Yo rk: Russell & Russell, 1 9 6 1 ) , p . 1 8 5 .
6 4 . Review ofTi:innies, Gemeinschafi and Geseflrchafi, Revue philosophique, X). I I
( 1 8 8 9 ) , 42 1 .
6 5 . Division du travail social, p. 1 47.
66. See Durkheim's review of Celestin Bougie's Essais sur le regime des castes
(Paris: Alcan, 1 9 0 8 ) , in Annee sociologique, Xl ( I 906- 1 90 9 ) , pp. 384-387.
One of Durkheim' s basic points i n this review is that hierarchy is not due to
the division of labor itself but, in castes, to a specific sort of ritual principle.
Bougie had analyzed castes in terms of a combination of heredi tary division
of labor, hierarchical organ ization, ritual rep ulsion, and endogamy. For a more
extensive structural analysis of hierarchy, see Louis Dumont, Homo hierar
chicus (Paris: Gallim ard, 1 9 6 6 ) . See also the course given by Roger Bastide,
"Formes elementaires de Ia stratifcation sociale," Centre de Documentation
U niversitaire, Paris. Bas tide observes that even in "primitive" societies where
there is no signifcant stratifcation among groups, there is always stratif ca
tion among individuals on the basis of performance. I n terestingly enough,
Chapter 3 The Division ofSocial rabor 135
Bastide retains the general neo-Kantian frame of reference of the Durkheim

school, but he argues that "the fault o f Kant was to base his thought upon
a particular culture, i . e . , that of bourgeois and puritan German society, in
order to disengage the a priori form of the moral law" (p. 8 3 ) . Bastide, i n
m y opinion, makes too much o f intimations of stratification in The Division
of Labor. True, Durkheim spoke of the central state in organic solidarity,
b u t he always conceived of it in a democratic fo rm that involved a highly
specialized type of stratification. And Durkheim had little to say about so
cioprofessional hierarchy. Bastide, moreover, observes that Levi-Strauss "is
in the process of rewri ting the Critique ofPure Reason'' (p. 82) , b u t he fails
to notice that Levi-Strauss is often much closer to the Critique ofjudgment
in his emphasis upon the centrality of aesthetics and perception. But Bast ide
is to the point in calling for a continuation o f Durkheim's work of rewriting
the Critique ofPractical Reason in a way that would be less ethnocentric and
genuinely comparative, fo cus upon values and the process of evaluating, and
concentrate upon entire societies instead ofanalytically abstracted structures
detached fro m history.
67. Division du travail social, p. 1 8 0 .
68. !bid., p . 1 8 1 .
69. !bid. , p. 1 8 9.
70. Ibid. , pp. 1 90- 1 9 1 .
71. Ibid. , pp. 1 9 1 , 1 93 .
72. Ibid. , p p . 1 94- 1 9 5 .
73. Revue philosophique, XXI I ( 1 8 86), 7 3 .
7 4. Division du travail social, p . 1 94 .
75. Ibid. , p. 207.
76. !bid. , p. 8 .
77. Ibid. , pp. 344, 346.
78. !bid. , p. 345.
79. Ibid. , p. 3 6 1 n .
80. !bid., p . 3 5 8 .
81. Ibid., pp. 3 5 8 - 3 5 9 .
82. Ibid., p . 347.
83. Ibid. , p. 367.
84. Ibid., pp. 368-369.
85. Ibid., p. 376.
86. "Albert SchaefHe," Revue philosophique, I ( 1 8 8 5 ) , 8 8 .
87. Division du travail social, p . 3 7 8 .
88. !bid., p . 347.
89. Ibid., p. 374.
9 0 . Ibid. , p p . 3 8 3 , 3 6 3 .
9 1 . Ibid. , p . 364.
92. IV ( 1 90 1 - 1 9 02) , 1 06- 1 07 .
9 3 . Division du travail social, p p . 404-406.
4
Suicide and Solidarity
There is ony one truly serious philosophical problem: suicide. To judge that life
is or is not worth living is to answer the fimdamental question o[philosophy.
- Albert Camus, Le Mythe de Sisyphe
In a coherent and animated society, there is from all to each and fro m each to
all a continual exchange of ideas and sentiments - something like a mutual
moral support - which makes the individual, imtead of being reduced to his
own forces alone, participate in the collective energy and find in it sustenance
for his own lifo when he is spiritual& exhausted.
- Suicide
The Object and Limitations of Suicide
An obvious difference separated Suicide from The Division of Labor.

The Division of Labor b egan with concepts. Suicide began with a concrete
problem that was conceived as an avenue of approach to the understanding
of soci ety and culture as a whole. This shift in focus did much to dissipate
the air of detached abstraction that hung like a pall over Durkheim's first
major work.
Another significant difference was the direct emphasis on social pa
thology in modern society and the clearer conception of the necessity and
direction of structural change to achieve legitimate social order. Suicide was
of primary i n terest to Durkheim, not as an isolated tragedy in the lives of
discrete individuals, but as an i n dex of a more widespread state of pathol
ogy i n society as a whole. Along with other symptoms of modern social
pathology, suicide, when in terpreted sociologically, pointed to basic causes
of disorder and disorientation which revealed the relation of personal crisis
to collective malaise.
And more clearly than i n The Division of Labor, Durkheim showed

awareness of the value and limi tations of individualism in society. Excessive
individualism was symptomatic of social disintegration. B u t in the normal
state of modern society, individual rights would be protected in a manner
that would not entail self-defeating, atomizing extremes.
Underlying the differences between the two works, however, were conti
nuities and indications ofless significant developments in Durkheim's ideas.
The fo cus of Du rkheim's analysis remained the relation of self and soci ety.
And the root principle of organization - methodological and normative
at the same time - was the distinction between normality and pathology
in society. The attack upon utilitarianism continued. And it was more ob
viously conjoined with the rej ection of violently apocalyptic socialism. The
selection o f the problem o f suicide itself seems t o indicate that for Durkheim
the greatest internal threat to the stability of modern societies was disinte
gration, not with a bang but a whim per. The higher suicide rate among the
socially privileged (managers, members of the lib eral professions) indicated
for him that all segments of modern society had a real existential interest i n
fundamental change. Indeed, t h e a n o m i e absence of meaning i n experience
had special relevance for privileged groups that were liberated from economic
need and from the incentive to carry on provided by the desire for affluence.
With the penchant for indiscriminate overstatement often characteristic
of the Annie school, Gaston Richard partially recognized this point in his
review of Suicide i n the fl rst volume of the A nnie sociologique:
This b o o k is one of those works which j ustify all the hopes which
enlightened ob servers of the great modern crisis place i n social sci
ence. Parties (and at times individuals as well) use social science,
b u t it can be put to the uses of none of them. Durkheim proves i t .
Socialists a n d economists are dismissed b a c k t o b a c k with a proof o f
their incompetence. What c a n remain of t h e thesis of class confl ict
considered as a fundamental law of social structure if it is proved
that the regime of unlimited competition destroys the happiness
and the existence o f the capitalist class even more than that of the
proletariat? Now, is not the thesis of class confl ict more than ever
the fo undation of so-called scientifl c socialism? On the other hand ,
how can one celebrate with the old fai thfuls of the Manchester
school the emancipation of economic forces if one sees how these
Chapter 4 Suicide and Solidarity 13 9
unchained forces can b e h o m i cidal - how the quest for wealth

engenders disgust fo r existence? 1
The main lines of Durkheim's argument were as clear-cut as they were

compelling. After dealing with initial problems of defl ni tion, Durkheim
began b y distinguishing between the suicide rate and the individual case
of suicide. The rate, which displayed a constancy o r tendential regular
ity over time, was the specifl cally sociological phenomenon. It could not
b e explained b y a random distribution of purely idiosyncratic motives
or i n ter-individual i m i tation. W h e n t h e s u i c i d e rate rose above or fe ll
below a certain threshold, it b e came an index of social pathology. While
Durkheim left this threshold undefl ned, his analysis implied that its de
termination bore u p o n the relation of the suicide rate to the disintegration
of sub stantively rational structures and socially germane affective bonds
i n soci ety. The explanation of the rate depended initially upon its corre
l a t i o n with social co n ditions, i nstitutional structures, cultural values, and
symb olic systems. The meaningfulness of this correlation depended upon
its interpretation with reference to the intervening variable of solidarity
or integration in society.
Thus, the subject o f social sol idarity and its relation to substantive ra
tionality retained i n Suicide the central i m p o rtance it had ass umed i n The
Division ofLabor. The higher-order typology in terms of which Durkheim
classifled various social and cultural phenomena i n Suicide had as its fo cal
point the nature and degree of solidarity in society: the polar opposites
of egoism and altruism, anomie and fatalism, were relevant to the suicide
rate through the functional relationship between social solidarity and the
phenomena which they characterized.
On the basis of these considerations, Durkheim arrived at his famous
suicide " l aw." This is perhaps the o n l y signiflcant law-like statement i n
sociology, b u t i n the works o f socio logists i t has received divergent fo rmu
lations. Although D u rkheim himself never provided a proposition which
formulated his "law," i t may b e stated thus: the suicide rate varies inversely
with the increasing degree of soli darity in society, until the degree of soli
darity reaches a certain threshold, at which point the covari ation becomes
direct. But this " l aw" is m u ch less signifi cant than the i n te r p retative effo rt
Durkheim made to make sense of it.
The elementary ambiguities apparent i n The Division ofLabor none

theless continued to plague Suicide. Indeed, Durkheim's social metaphysic
became increasingly manifest. The metaphysical component of his thought
was never concerned with the substantial existence of some sort o f "group
mind" detached from individual members of society. Rather it dealt with
the more subtle problem of the conception of society and social solidarity
as providing the essential meaning and ultimate reality b eh i n d all forms of
cultural symb olism. D u rkheim never fully saw how social solidarity itself
might be enriched when it became one aspect of a more comprehensive
universe of meaning. His ultimate explanatory gesture was invariably
reductionistic. In the terms of his social metaphysic, all cultural phenom
e n a b e ca m e external signs of social real i ty - icing on the cake of social
custom o r social action.
If, as it is of ten said, man has a dual nature, i t is b e c a u s e there is

s u p e r i m p osed u p o n physical man a social m a n . Now the latter
presupposes ne cessarily a s o c i e ty which h e expresses and serves.
When s o c i e ty d i s i n tegrates, when we no longer feel it acting
and living aro u n d and a b o u t u s , all that there i s of the s o c i a l
i n u s finds itself devoid o f obj ective fou n d at i o n . There is o n l y
an artificial c o m b i n a t i o n of illusory i m ages, a phantasmagoria
which a little reflection s u ffices to whisk away. C o n s e q u e n tly,
there is n o t h i ng to serve as an e n d for o ur actions. Yet this social
man is the w h o l e of civilized m a n ; i t is h e w h o represents the
value of existence.2
I n his m e taphysical m oments, D u r k h e i m w a s a l m os t led to lose a good

cause through bad arguments by con ceiving a necessary condition and
a vital necessity as exclusive, self-contained realities. The social matrix
of cultural and symbolic experience became mater et magistra. In fact,
Suicide already contained the i n terpretation of religion which would b e
more fully developed i n The Elementary Forms: "The power which has
imposed itself u p o n m an's respect and which has become t h e object of
his adoration is society, of which the gods were o n ly the hypostatized
fo rm. Religion is i n a word the system of symbols through which society
becomes conscious of itself; i t is the manner of thinking appropriate to
the collective b eing."
Chapter 4 Suicide and Solidarity !41
I n c e r t a i n ways Suicide was a n advance over The Division of Labor

b e c a u s e i n t h e fo r m e r t h e a m b i g u i t i e s o f a s o c i a l i z e d a n d C a r t e s i a n i z e d
n e o - K an t i a n i s m b e c a m e so t r a n s p a r e n t t h a t t h e y w e r e a l m o s t i n c o n s e
q u e n t i a l . D u rkheim's c o n f u s i o n w a s e s p e c i a l ly apparent i n h i s idea of t h e
r e l a t i o n o f psychol ogy t o s o c i o l o gy. B y "psych o l o g y " , D u r k h e i m m e a n t
a n u m b e r o f t h ings w h i c h w e r e n o t a l t o g e t h e r i d e n t i c a l . H e m e a n t t h e
s t u d y o f (1) t h e psychophysical s e l f a n a l y t i c a l l y c o n s i d e r e d i n i s o l a t i o n
fr o m s o c i e t y a n d c a p a b l e o n l y o f s e n s a t i o n ; (2) the m o s t g e n e r a l , i l l - d e
fi n e d p s y c h i c t r a i t s o f t h e h u m an b ei n g, e . g . , s e x u a l desire o r p at e r n a l
affe c t i o n ; (3) t h e i n n e r , p r i v a t e , and u n o b s e r v a b l e a s p e c t s o f t h e self; ( 4)
t h e i n dividualized a s p e c t s o f t h e s e l f; and (5) the s i n g u l a r i n di v i d u a l i n
h i s o r h e r c o n crete p a r t i c u lari ty. S o c i o logy w a s d i rectly co n ce r n e d w i t h
none of t h e s e m e a n i n gs o f t h e p s y c h o l o g y o f the i n d i v i d u a l . I n c o n t r a s t ,
s o c i o l o gy w a s directly concerned w i t h s o c i a l psychol ogy and t h e w a y i n
w h i c h c o l l e c tive fe a t u r e s w e r e i n t e r n a l i z e d b y t h e p e rs o n . T h e confusion
i n D urkheim's thought a p p e a r e d in two ways. First, the l a n g u age he
used i n m a k i n g the above p o i n t s was a t times a m b i g u o u s . S e co n d , he a t
t i m es s e e m e d t o c o n c e i ve o f t h e p e r s o n as a m e r e c o m p o s i t e o f t h e s o c i a l
s e l f a n d t h e psychophysical s e l f. It w a s t h i s s e c o n d s o u r c e o f confusion
that stemm e d fro m h i s C ar t e s i a n i z e d n e o - K a n t i a n refo r m u l a t i o n o f the
dualism between m i n d a n d b o dy. Thus, D u rk h e i m a t times seemed t o
argue i n Suicide tha t t h e i n d i v i d u a l h a d n o role i n t a k i n g h i s o r h e r o w n
l i f e . O n e's p s y c h o p h y s i c a l c o n s t i t u t i o n p r e d i s p o s e d o n e to a greater o r
lesser degree t o t h e causal a c t i o n o f s p e c i fi c a l l y s o c i a l fo rces. I n d i v i d u a l s
were fe lled b y " s u i c i d o g e n e t i c " s o c i a l fo rces a c t i n g like some fan t a s t i c
d e a t h ray.
O n e i n s t a n c e o f D ur k h e i m's c o n f u s i o n w a s i n t h e d i c h o t o m y h e
see m e d t o p o se b e tween c o g n i t i o n a n d i n t e n t i o n i n acts o f s u i c i d e . H e
b e g a n b y defi ning s u i c i d e as "every case o f d e a t h w h i c h results d i r e c t l y
o r i n d i rectly from a p o s i tive o r negative a c t of the v i c t i m h i m s e l f w h i c h
h e k n o ws will p r o d u c e this result"4 Un l e s s i n vestiga t i o n ( e . g . , t h r o u g h
the u s e o f d e p t h psychology) reveals o t h e r w i s e , a n a c t w h i c h is p e r
fo r m e d b y a p e r s o n w h o knows t h e c o n s e q u e n c e o f h i s a c t i s p r i m a facie
c o n s i d e r e d i n t e n t i o n a l . Yet - b ec a u s e of h i s s u s p i c i o n of p s ychology
- D ur k h e i m , i mm e d i a t e l y b efo re o ffe r i n g his defi n i t i o n , i m p u g n e d
a n i n t e r e s t i n i n t e n ti o n s w i t h an argument w h o s e g e n e r a l i ty s e e m e d t o
14 2 Emile Durkheirn: Sociologist and Philosopher
exclude even t h e cognitive e l e m e n t i n h i s own defi nitio n . " I n t e n t i o n i s

t o o i n t i m a t e a t h i n g t o b e s t u d i e d fro m t h e o u t s i d e b y m o r e t h a n gross
a p p r o x i m a t i o n s . It even escapes self- o b servati o n . " 5
Durkheim has a t times been mistakenly criticized for including a cognitive
element in his definition of suicide. But the value of his definition in this
respect is in its recognition that suicide is a relatively complex act that requires
initiative and the coordination o f thought and activi ty. A more relevant objec
tion is that Durkheim was not clear about the relation o f his conception of
t h e role of cognition to h i s criticism of the focus o n manifest intentions and
to the problem o f a more general theory of m o tivation. Yet a crucial chapter
of Suicide itself (Book II, chapter vi) attempted to relate sociological catego
ries to psyc h o logical expressions and personality types. Thus, any idea that
Durkheim simply ignored psychological factors obvio usly misses the mark.
The b asic point i s t h a t h e was often confused or ambiguous, in part because
of the Cartesianized, neo-Kantian strand o f his thought, which led him at
times to postulate a dualistic division b etween the "outer" and the "inner"
. .
m expenence.
At t i m e s the main target o f D u rkheim's attack was t h e use of naive intro
spection and the psychological categories o f official gatherers of statistics to pro
vide adequate accounts o f motivation. But Jack C. D o uglas has observed:
Unfortunately fo r Durkheim's own arguments, the official categor

izations of a death as caused by "suicide" were generally most dependent
on their imputations of an intention to die by one's own action: since
one of the critical dimensions o f meanings involved in the statutory
definitions of "suicide" as a cause o f death and in the general com
monsense meaning of "suicide" i n the Western world is precisely that
of "intention to d i e , " the official categorization of "suicide" can in
general be only as valid as official categorizations of"intention." Since
Durkheim thought official categories of intentions or mo tives t o be
completely invalid and unreliable, h e s h ould have concluded the same
thing about o ffi cial statistics on suicide.6
Douglas' conclusion becomes more forceful when it i s realized that shared

attitudes toward suicide influence t h e reporting of suicides, so that the more
solidary groups also tend to b e more reluctant a b o u t reveal i n g suicides to
t h e outside world. Furthermore, the i m p o rtance of concealment assumes
Chapter 4 Suicide and Solidarity 143
major proportions given the small fraction of the p o p u l a t i o n committing

suicide ( b etween one hundred and three hundred p e r million). Indeed, some
statisticians have argued that, even aside fro m problems of concealment, the
n u m b ers involved are too small fo r statistically significant variations and, i n
any event, fo r i n ferring far-reaching s o c i a l and cultural p r o p o s i t i o n s about
m i l i e u s o r contexts.7
Ambiguity i n the conception o f the relation o f psychology to sociology
also appeared in D u rkhei m's discussion of psychopathology and suicide.
Although h e recognized a "social factor" i n psychopathology, h e restricted
his discussion t o making inverse or inconclusive correlations b etween rates of
suicide and rates of" i nsanity" in terms of age, sex, religion, and nationali ty.
He d i d n o t address h i mself t o t h e p r o b l e m s of t h e fu n c t i o n a l a n d c u l t u ral
definition of psych o p athology and the relation of rates of psych o p a t h o logy
to cultural variables. But only by considering these p r o b l e m s could he have
arrived at a more pertinent conception of psych o p athology, its significance
i n different types of civilization, and its possible relation to suicide and
sociopathic states. Curi ously, however, his own discussion o f personality
types stressed the special i m p o r t a n c e i n modern suicides o f what would
today be called manic-dep ressive syndromes (which he correlated with
anomie-egoistic suicide). 8
Ambiguity arose as well in D urkheim's conception of case histories. I n
general, h e recognized t h e fully complementary relationship o f t h e u s e o f
case histories a n d an analytic approach centering o n instituti onal a n d cul
tural conditions. At times he accurately saw the specificity o f case history
in its fo cus o n t h e concrete individual in whom general factors assumed a
particular confi gu ration: "We cannot d ed u c e all the particularities which an
individual case may p resent, because there are some which depend u p o n the
specific nature of the s u b j e c t . Each s u i c i d e gives t o his act a personal mark
which expresses his temperament [and] the special conditions in which he
is placed, and which consequently cannot b e explained by the social and
general causes of t h e p h e n o m e n o n . " 9 At o t h e r ti m es , however, t h e s o c i o l o
gistic reformulation o f t h e mind-body dualism led Durkheim to con ceive
the individual personality as a mechanical combination of psychophysical
and social factors: "Everything depends upon the i n tensity with which the
suicidogenetic causes have acted upon the individual."10 Whether because
of m e t h o dological and m e taphysical i n h i b i t i o n s o r because o f the unavail-
14 4 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
ability of usefu l documents, the fac t remains that Durkheim did n o t u s e

case h i s t o r i e s a n d other empirical evidence t o i l l u s t r a t e h i s argument. Here
again there was a continuation o f the institutional and legal fo rmalism of
Th e Division ofLabor i n the failure to substantiate an analysis with concrete
evidence and to consider the way in which social factors are experienced
b y people. And like the earlier work, Suicide often rested on a (much more
successful) coordination of the m o dels of earlier theorists. H i s t o r i ans like
Roger Lacombe and Albert Bayet were especially sensitive t o t h e absence
of documentation which might reveal whether and how the institutional
contexts and analytic variables discussed by Durkheim manifest themselves
operatively in actual events and experience. As Bayet puts it i n his Le Suicide
et Ia morale:
What is really a grave difficulty is that one m u s t take the author's

word fo r things. Where are the usages which prove that Protestants
"punish s u i cide"? How is t h e "drawing away" from those who touch
t h e suicide e x p ressed? W h a t facts p e r m i t one to say that c o m m o n
morality blames s u i c i d e ? Du rkheim does n o t t e l l u s . No d o u b t h e
beli eves t h a t t h e morality o f his time i s h i s own a n d he knows i t . . . .
B u t the testimony o f the greatest p h i l o s o p h e r cannot, fro m the sci
entific point of view, replace o b s ervations s u bjected to control and
criticism.11
On a conceptual level, certain ambiguities evident in the typology of The

Division ofLabor also persisted i n Suicide. In keeping with the emphasis o n
modern social p a t h o l ogy, t h e category o f egoism replaced t h a t of organic
solid ari ty, and anomie became a central problem. But the analytical dis
sociation o f reality was at times carried over from Durkheim's first major
work. Thus Durkheim seems a t p o i n t s to have b e l i eved that a concept l i ke
egoism applied to a discrete set of historical phenomena ( e . g . , Protestant
ism) and that the concept o f anomie applied to other phenomena ( e . g . ,
capitalism). Durkheim d i d n o t ask whether h i s analytic variables a p p l i e d
simultaneously t o a number of i n s t i t u t i o n a l contexts ( e . g . , whether Protes
tantism or capitalism, to a greater or lesser extent, was characterized b y b o t h
egoism a n d anomie) or whether i n s t i t u t i o nal contexts or symbolic systems
were historically related to one another in ways which could be illuminated
b y t h e appli cation o f models (vide Weber i n The Protestant Ethic).
B u t j us t as t h e t y p o l o gy i n The Division ofLabor was b a s e d i m p l i c i tly

u p o n a n o t i o n of the t r a n s h i s t o r i c a l c o n d i t i o n s o f s o c i a l n o r m a l i ty, t h e
Suicide t y p o l o gy w a s b a s e d i m p licitly u p o n a n o t i o n o f t h e transhistorical
c a u s e s of social p a t h o l o gy. I n fac t , the i d e a of a coincidentia oppositorum
seems t o s u rface in the n o t i o n t h a t any extremely p a t h o logical social s t a t e
w o u l d i n s o m e way display a p a r t i c u l a r c o m b i n a t i o n o f t h e general c a u s e s
o f s o c i a l p a t h o l o gy. One v i r t u e of t h e c o n c e p t o f a n o m i e was i t s a b i l i t y
to m e d i a t e t h e m i n d - b o d y d u a l i s m ; i t s h o w e d h o w organically r o o t e d
desire a n d aggressiveness existed i n d i a l e c t i c a l r e l a t i o n t o b i n d i n g n o r m s
a n d sym b o l s , e r u p t i n g c h a o t i cally i n c a s e s o f n o r m ative a n d symb o l i c
breakdown o r e m erging p r e d i c t a b l y w h e n certain n o r m s a n d s y m b o l i c
systems t h e m s e l ves p re s c r i b e d o r c e l e b rated excess a n d u n l i m i t e d asser
ti o n . And D u r k h e i m c o n c l u d e d that a n o m i e and egoism were "generally
only two d i ffe r e n t aspects of t h e same state of s o c i e t y. " 12 T h us, in Suicide
t h e s e c o n d a n d m o r e H e g e l i a n s t r a n d of D u rk h e im's t h o u g h t s t r ongly
asserted i ts e l f and t e n d e d t o overlay his C a r t e s i a n i z e d neo- K a n t i a n i s m
w i t h a m o r e d i a l e c t i c a l n o t i o n o f e x p e r i e n c e a n d analysis.
In o n e c r u c i a l r e s p e c t , h o w ever, this was n o t t h e case. A l t h o u g h
D u r k h e i m i n t e n d e d h i s s t u d y o f s u i c i d e to s e r v e a s a m e a n s o f a p p r o a c h
to t h e analysis o f s o c i e t y a s a w h o l e , h e d i d n o t a d e q uately investigate
t h e relation of his variables to social p h e n o m e n a in the g l o b a l soci al
c o n t e x t . T h e o nl y a r e a in w h i ch he e x t e n d e d h i s analysis was in a discus
sion o f h o m i c i d e . Durkheim fai l e d i n Suicide to relate h i s s o c i o l o gi c a l
a n d c u l t u r a l variables n o t o n l y t o t h e i r i n d i v i d u a l and i n t e r - i n d i v i d u a l
m a n i festations ( s u i c i d e and h o m i ci d e ) , b u t t o m o r e s p e c i fi c a lly s o c i a l
fo rms of a c t i o n and r e a c t i o n . Ye t , o n e t y p i c a l r e s p o n s e t o a n o m i e and t h e
a n x i e t y i t p r o v o k e d w a s t h e a t t e m p t t o "reintegrate" e x p e r i e n c e t h r o u gh
collective a c t i o n and group m o b i l i z a t i o n . I n d e e d , i t w o u l d s e e m t h a t
a n o m i e l e d t o s u i c i d e o n l y i n a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h e g o i s m . I n cases where
a t o m i s t i c i n d i vidualism was not present o r c o u l d b e ove r c o m e , a n o m i e
m i gh t g i v e way t o t h e form a t i o n of g r o u p s wh i c h r e s p o n d e d t o severe
d i s i ntegration b y s e e k i n g new and p e r h a p s more d e m a n d i n g , even au
t h o r i t a r i a n o r fan a t i c a l , fo r m s of s o l i d a r i t y and a t t i m e s engaging i n
collective v i o l e n c e . T h e p recise m an n e r i n w h i c h t h i s c o u l d take p l a c e
d e p e n d e d , o f c o u r s e , u p o n s p e cif1 c h i s t o r i c a l c i r c u m s t a n c e s a n d m o des
o f g r o u p m o b il i z a t i o n .
Here there was a basis fo r convergence with the ideas of Marx - a basis
upon which D urkheim himself failed to b u i l d . Durkheim was to make a t least
an oblique reference t o capitalism in his discussion of anomie. But he did not
provide an i n tensive and direct investigation of the structural contradictions in
a capitalist economy. Nor did h e see class-consciousness as an in regrating force
that counteracted the effects of anomie in the "internal milieu" of a group.
The very focus upon suicide as the key problem for an analysis of modern
society may b e seen as diverting attention fro m this possibility and from the
revolutionary potential Marx believed it held.
At the other end of the ideological spectrum, the relation of anomie to the
rise of extreme authoritarianism was another possibility Durkheim ignored.
This matter has received extensive coverage in subsequent li terature. Karl
Mannheim, for example, observed:
The secret of taboo and the collective formation of symbols in prim

itive societies is mainly that the fre e expression of i m p ulses i s held in
check by the various mechanisms of social control and directed towards
certain objects and actions which benefit the group. Only the impul
sive energies which have been set free by the disintegration of society
and are seeking i n t egration a b o u t a new object have those eruptive
destructive quali ties which are customarily and vaguely regarded as
characteristic of every type of mass behavior. What the dictatorships in
certain contemporary mass-societies are striving to do is to coordinate
through organizations the impulses which the revolutionary period un
chained and to direct them towards prescribed objects. The conscio usly
guided fi xation of mass i m p ulses upon n e w obj ectives takes the place
of earlier forms of wish fi xation which fo und their objectives organi
cal ly, that is to say, through a slow selective p rocess. S o , for instance,
the attempt is made to create a new religion, the fu nction o f which
is first to d estroy the old emotional setting, and then to make these
disintegrated i m p ulses more subservient t o one's own aim through the
use of new symbols. 1 3
I n a certain context o r group, anomie might foster suicide. In a comple

mentary aspect of the gro up's life, in another context, or in the same context
over time, anomie might lead to various types of group m obilization and
ideological assert ion. Problems of this sort, however, could be investigated
only by historical analysis within the context of society as a whole over time
Chaper 4 Suicide and Solidarity 147
in a manner that went beyond one-dimensional correlations ofvariables such

as anomie with phenomena such as suicide rates.
On the basis of the foregoing considerations, one might conclude that
Durkheim's Suicide has limited value as an attempt to use a particular
problem as a means of approach to an analysis of society as a whole. It
may be argued that Durkheim was basing highly significant interpreta
tions and practical conclusions upon statistically insignificant information.
In this respect, two things may be said in defense of Durkheim. A crucial
aspect of his argument was that social and cultural forces that account f or
suicide rates are operative, consciously or unconsciously, in people who are
not moved to take their own lives. To put it crudely, the few people who
commit suicide in modern society are indices of a much larger number of
distraught or disoriented people who are handling their malaise in more
or less constructive ways. One of the apparent implications of Durkheim's
discussion is that, as a rule, people in primitive societies, when left to their
traditional forms of existence, tended to sacrifice theirlives in defense of their
values, while people i n modern societies were driven to the extreme act as
a sign of personal negation and a vote of no confidence in society, either in
spite of shared values or because of an absence of values. Durkheim clearly
perceived the crisis of meaning and legitimacy in moder n societies. The
second defense is that, from a normative perspective, even a small number
of suicides represent a morally and spiritually scandalous sacrifice of life,
especially when the "sacrifice" is meaning less.
Anomie and Egoism
Durkheim's typology in Suicide attempted to provide a conceptual

framework for the systematic classification of social and cultural causes of
extreme!y high or extremely low suicide rates, which served as one objective
index (among others} of states of social pathology. The typology may be
represented diagrammatically thus:
anomie
egotsm altruism
fatalism
148 Emile Durkheirn: Sociologist and Philosopher
Anomie and fatalism were conceptually p o l a r o p p osites, as were egoism

and altruism. Anomie signified the absence of a n i n s t i t u t i onally grounded
a n d i d e o logically legitimated sense o f substantive limits in society and the
personali ty. The absence of an ingrained sense o f limits was fo r Durkheim
the sociocultural cause o f disorientation and aggression i n society. In the
normal s o c iety, a normative sense o f limits became i n t i m e a perso n's second
nature, indeed h i s or h e r m o d e of being; i t w a s , m oreover, the only possible
b asis of solidarity i n society. Fatalism, in contrast, was caused by t h e setting
of limits that were excessively authoritarian in rep ressive or o p pressive ways
a n d which, by that token, resulted in rules which were themselves obstacles
t o solidarity. "Egoism" referred, in its most general sense, to a state i n which
t h e p r i n c i p l e o f indi viduation was carried to t h e extreme of particularistic
and self-centered atomistic individualism. Conversely, "altruism" denoted a
state of excessive c o m m u n i ty, which in its figuratively incestuous i n t i m acy
submerged the individual i n the group and i n h i b i t e d solidarity in society
as a whole.
The Suicide typology had the merit of transcending certain limitations
of t h e "organic" and "mechanical" schema o f Th e Division of Labor. I t also
clarified Durkheim's idea of the relation of sociology to morali ty. On the
level of society as a whole, the argument i n Suicide implies that any normal
or healthy social system would be based upon some o p t i m al c o m b i n a t i o n
of community, a reciprocal relationship a m o n g different p a r t s (individuals,
roles, groups), and an autonomously accepted, disciplined sense of substan
tive l i m i ts to personal o r collective asser tion. In this light, t h e fu ndamental
moral fu nction o f institutions and values in society was seen as the provision
of the o b j e ctively given and s u b j e c tively i n ternalized foundation fo r these
qualities in a conscience collective that furthered viable solidarity in society
as a whole. Integration i n the normal o r good ( b u t n o t perfect) society thus
involved simultaneo usly the relatively ( b u t not totally) coherent nature of
institutional norms and symbolic systems, the a u t o n o m o u s and spontane
o u s acceptance of norms and symbols by the i n dividual, and the creation
of meani ngful moral solidarity i n society as a whole.
In Suicide it also b ecomes clear that Durkheim did n o t conceive of the
normal or healthy society as a crystal palace. Even the normal society would
contain a marginal leaven of anomie, egoism, and extreme altruism. Some types
of society would normally develop certain of these characteristics more than
other types. Community was developed i n "primi tive" societies to a n extent

impossible and undesirable in large and functionally differentiated modern
societies, while egoism in modern societies was an excessive development o f the
cardinal emphasis on individual rights and personal responsibility. Mo reover,
certain milieus within a society would normally have certain extreme tenden
cies that, within limits, were necessary and positive fo rces in the development
of society as a whole. A measure of anomie corresponded to an element of
"free play" in society and the personality: anomie indeterminacy and daring
risk were conditions of progress and prerequisites o f an ability to respond
creatively to changes in relevant conditions of existence. And anomie would
b e especially typical o f artistic and innovative milieus. Egoism was to some
e x t e n t a c o n c o m i t a n t of intel lectual originality. To this e x t e n t , Durkheim
recognized the importance of the considerations that preoccupied a theorist
like Gabriel Tarde or were included i n We ber's notion o f personal election as
an element of charisma.
But D urkheim considered pathological the distorted, unbalanced, or
runaway development and generalization o f these qualities in society. The
sociopathic began at the p o i n t at which the conceivably valuable exception in
society tended to become a h armfu l rule. Thus, fo r D urkheim as for Aristotle,
a vice was i n the last analysis an excessive development of a virtue. In fact,
the concept of anomie in its primary meaning of an absence of a sense of
legitimate limits recalls the notion of hybris. And implicit in suicide and its
typology was an optimal point ofintersection of D urkheim's variables that cor
responded to the G reek idea of a golden mean. Nowhere else was Durkhei m's
indeb tedness t o the classical tradition of Western philosophy more telling.
And nowhere else was the vision of his own France - with its insistence on
mesure - as the guardian of what was valid i n this tradition more apposite.
In the normal society, the golden mean - normatively incarnated in the
conscience collective - would restrict hybris to the exceptional individual or
the extraordinary fea t whose shocking singularity amb ivalently fascinated and
repelled society as a whole.
D urkheim's concept of anomie as t h e absence of a normative sense of le
gitimate limits at times covered a great deal of territory rather indiscriminately.
The meaning of anomie as an operational concept, its relation to egoism, and
its connection with such "structural" problems as stratification, exploitation,
scarci ty, and group conflict have been sources of confusion.
150 J:rnile Durkheirn: Sociologist and Philosopher
T h e b as i c cause o f generalized a no m i e was r a p i d and u n c o n t r o l l e d

change i n t h e c o n d i t i o n s , i n s t i t u t i o n s , o r values c o n s t i t u t i v e o f the s o c i a l
system i n t h e largest s e n s e . T h e relevant effe ct of r u n away change w a s t h e
unsettling displacement, uprooting, and disorientation of the groups or
categories affected b y h i s t o r i c a l change. Ra p i d transformation m i g h t have
p o s i t ive value fo r s o c i a l develo p m e n t o n l y at certain e u p h o r i c phases of
t r a n s i t i o n ( e . g . , a classical revo l u t i o n ) . A n afte r - b i r t h of b an a l i z e d and
misdirected hybris plagued modern s o c i e ty. P r o m e t h e u s had b e e n taken
d o w n fro m his p r e d e s t i n e d rock and m a d e over into a face in t h e crowd.
And tragedy had b e c o m e triviali zed. M o d e rn society n e e d e d s t r u ct u r a l
reform that w o u l d bring legitimate s t a b i l i z a t i o n a n d p u t a s t o p to ir
r a t i o n a l , r u n away c h ange i m p o s e d by the s t a t u s q u o and i ts h i s t o r i c a l
t e n d e n c i e s . F o r i n m o d e r n s o c i e t y t h e p a t h o logical fun c t i o n i n g o f t h e
s t a t u s q u o fre q u e n t ly exacerbated an o m i e a n d h e l p e d d e t e r m i n e t h e i r
r a t i o n a l c o m p o n en t s o f s o c i o l o g i cally and p h i l o s o p h i cally u n i n fo r m e d ,
merely s e l f- i n d u l g e n t p r o tests against i t . I n a p a t h o l o gi c a l s t a t u s q u o ,
o n e o f t h e legitimate fu n c t i o n s o f s o c i o logy ( i n D u r k h e i m's s e n s e ) was
t h e d i ffu s i o n of a c o n s c i o usness of p r o b l e m s w i t h i n t h e s o c i e t y and o f
t h e ways i n w h i c h t h e y c o u l d b e o v e r c o m e in an a t t e m p t t o achieve
s u b s t antive r a t i o n a l i t y and social j us t i c e . High s u i c i d e rates c o n s t i t u t e d
a p r o b l e m o f t h i s s o r t . And D u rk h e i m's classical s t u d y o f t h e i r causes a n d
c o n c o m i tants c o n c l u d e d w i t h a r e c o m m e n d a t i o n o f s t r u c t u r a l reform
and a call t o a c t i o n .
A l i m i t e d m e a n i n g o f "an o m i e , " a s i t s e t y m o l ogy suggest e d , w a s " a
s t a t e of c o m p l e t e n o r m l essness and m e a n inglessness o f e x p e r i e n c e at
t e n d a n t u p o n i n s t i t u t i o n a l and m o r a l b r e a k down . " The p s y c hological
expression of ano m i e i n the i n d i v i d u a l p e r s o n a l i ty was the fe e l i n g o f
a n x i e t y a n d fr u s t r a t i o n . I n t h e a b s e n c e o f m e a n i n gful s y m b o l i c systems
and norms that c o n t r o l l e d anxiety and p r o v i d e d a c o n n e c tive tissue in
s o c i e ty, t h e i n d i v i d u a l b e cam e prey t o l i m i t l ess desires and m o r b i d fears.
In one i m p o rt a n t s e n s e , D u r k h eim's c o n c e p t of a n o m i e s i t u a t e d H o b b es's
d e fi a n tly defensive and power-hungry m a n as a p e rs o n a l i t y type w i t h i n a
s p e c i fi c , p a t h o l o gical state of s o c i e ty. H o b b es i a n m a n d i d n o t r e p r e s e n t
" h u m a n n a t u r e " b u t only o n e p at h o l o g i c a l p o s s i b i l i t y o f h u m an n a t u r e
that emerged and w a s p r o n o u n c e d i n an an o m i e s t a t e o f s o c i e ty. D i s t r u s t
a n d an o b s essive fe a r o f o t h e r s b ec a m e a prevalent m o de o f s o c i a l i n ter-
a c t i o n o nly w h e n n o r m a tive s t r u c t u r e s fai l e d t o create an i n s t i t u t i o n a l

fo u n d a t i o n fo r s o l i d a ri ty.
The term "anomie" also referred to the presence of extreme distortions and
i m balances in the social system, which might lead to the nightmarish state
of normlessness. In this sense, "anomie" recalls Marx's notion of structural
contradictions. Durkheim fo rmulated this notion in terms of a contradiction
between fel t needs and expectations on the one hand, and values and insti
tutionalized means of satisfaction on the other. Structural contradictions
were a basic cause of passing ruptures in the social system that might have
more or less durable effects fo r the overall shape of social life. M oreover, the
general theory of anomie revealed that the effect of either a depression o r an
economic boom might be similar in the uprooting, social displ acem e n t , and
moral disorientation o f people. In a depression, the economic means at one's
disposal dropped below one's customary level of expected satisfactions. I n
a windfall situation, one's means soared above one's accustomed needs and
might further unsettle one's level of expectation. Both imb alances distorted
the traditional structure of experience and generated anxiety. Rapid change
i n economic posi t i o n , which might come to the indi vidual in t h e appearance
of good or bad luck, thus had similar sociological and socio-psychological ef
fe cts. Implicit in this entire line o f argument was a return to the theme of the
social, moral, and psychological costs of economic growth which preoccupied
Durkheim i n his fi rst major work. 1 4
As has already been observed, fro m D u rkheim's viewpoint exploitation
could b e seen as a variant o f anomie, i n s o far as it i n volved a contradiction
b e tween institutional practices o r social conditions and the felt needs o r
values o f an o p p ressed gro u p , i f n o t of s o c i e t y as a w h o l e . T h e one area i n
which D urkheim proved u n a b l e to a p p l y this insight w a s gender, the relation
b e tween the sexes, and their bearing on marriage. Durkheim was b y and
large unable to think critically a b o u t the category o f gender and, i n contrast
to his general insistence on sociological e x p l anations fo r social phenomena,
had at b e s t an equivocal, i n part naturalized or essentialized understan d i n g
of i t . I n The Division ofLabor h e relied o n a neo-Aristoteliean and common
sensical psychology to argue that opposites attract, and h o m osexual desire
o r the possibility of stable, m o rally legitimate relations, including marriage,
b e tween homosexuals or lesbians seemed entirely b eyond his ken. I n Suicide
he provided an overly general, prej udi cially gendered explanation of specifi c
152 I:rnile Durkheirn: Sociologist and Philosopher
differences i n suicide rates b etween unmarried or divorced men and women,

i n virtue of which women were less negatively affected b y celibacy or divorce
( o r, conversely, b enefi ted less fro m m arriage ) . H e simply appealed to his
transhistorical model o f a hypothesized, presocial organic b alance w h i c h was
u p s e t by the passage to society and culture (and had t o b e institutionally
recreated) in order to argue that women, excluded fro m anomie social areas
and confined to the conj ugal fami ly, had greater proximity to the p utative
organic or instinctual e q u i l i b r i u m . This s i t u a t i o n presumably m a d e them
less in need o f the regulatory restraints of marriage o n sexual desire. In this
manner h e did not fo cus analytically and critically on the very problem of
exclusion but instead partially naturalized that very exclusion of women from
eco n o m i c and profes s i o n a l activities and could envision an i n creased social
role fo r them only through an i n tensifi cation of gendered differences: b ecause
of t h e i r presumed "natural" aptitudes, women would become increasi ngly
specialized i n aesthetic fun c t i o n s . H e did not o ffer the seemingly obvious
sociological explanation t h a t women confi ned, if n o t claustra ted, within the
conjugal family might be prone to a variant of "fatalistic" suicide i n good
part because of t h e i r e x c l u s i o n fro m o t h e r areas o f social and public life.
(A reading of Haubert's Madame Bovary would have been e n o u gh to sug
gest such an explanat i o n . ) He thus either kept women within t h e conj ugal
fam i ly, which on his own analysis b r o u ght t h e m ( i n contrast t o men) little
of social value and even had adverse e ffects o n them when the family was
childless, o r relegated them to what he saw as less "serious" sides of social
life, implicitly ignoring them in his treatment of the corporative groups that
were the key to his idea of beneficial social refo r m .
Nonetheless, D u rkheim's overall sociological a p p r o a c h , w h i c h insisted
on the analysis and reform o f social causes - not merely sym ptoms - of
social problems, provided the bases for a non-essentialized analysis o f the
fam i ly, gender, and sexual relations that he himself was unable to develop.
For example, in his discussion o f a n o m i e , Durkheim wrote:
Discipline can be useful only if it is considered j u s t by the peoples

subjected t o it. If it maintains itself only through habit and force,
peace and harmony exist only in appearance. The spirit of unrest and
discontent is latent. And superfic ially restrained appetites waste I i tt l e
time i n becoming unleashed. This is what happened in Rome and
Greece when the beliefs on which the old organization of the patricians
and plebeians rested were shaken, and in our modern societies when
aristocratic prejudices began to lose their sway. 1 5
I n t h e context o f t h e classical i d e a of exploitation, o n e clearly defined group

benefited fro m the injustices imposed upon another clearly defined gro u p .
A l ienation, however, m i g h t r e s u l t from a contradiction between n e e d s o r
values and institutional patterns or s o c i a l conditions t h a t created a fe eling
of frustration, meaninglessness, and hostility to the "system" even when a
group had n o t b een directly subjected to invidious exploitation. Indeed,
alienation might be experienced b y groups that were p rivileged o r that
materially benefited fro m exploitation. The fr ustrations of the privileged
in an anomie situation generated a type of restlessness that, in the absence
of constructive alternatives, might feed the s u i c i d e rate o r find other nega
tive ou tlets.
In this respect, a little-noticed aspect o f D urkhei m's argument was crucial.
He went beyond the ideas o f structural contradictions and gaps to a n o t i o n
of institutionalized or ideological a n o m i e . Where institutional and ideologi
cal anomie existed, limitless or excessive assertion was actually prescribed or
lauded, with w h a t Durkheim considered ty pically damagi n g consequences
fo r society as a whole. H e saw this fo rm of le mal de l'injini (infinity sick
ness)16 in numerous aspects o f modern culture, e . g. , i n romanticism. But i t
was especially i n h i s conception o f the economy that h e advanced beyond
the analysis of The Division of Labor to a perspective that anticipated the
similarities b e tween lib eral capitalism and a certain sort o f socialism.
Governmental power, instead of being the regulator of economic life,

has become its instrument and servant. The most opposite schools
- orthodox economists and extreme socialists - agree that it should
be reduced to the role of a more or less passive intermedi ary between
different social functions. One side wishes it to be simply the guard
ian of individual contracts. The other side delegates to it the task of
collective b o okkeeping, i . e . , to chalk up the demands of consumers,
to transmi t them to producers, to inventory aggregate income, and
to distribute it according to a set formula. But b o t h sides refu s e gov
ernment the right to subordinate other social organs and have them
converge toward a higher goal. O n all sides, men declare that nations
ought to have as their sole or principal obj ective the achievement of

industrial prosperity. Thus the dogma of economic materialism serves as
the basis of these seemingly opposed systems. And since these theories
merely express the state of opinion, industry, instead of being viewed
as a means to an end which transcends it, has become the supreme
end o f individuals and societies. 1 7
F o r Durkheim this state of affairs a n d the ideologies that legitimated i t

constituted a paradigm case of institutionalized and id eological anomie.
T h u s t h e appetites which in dustry activates have been freed fro m all

limiting authority. The apotheosis o f well-being h a s , i n sanctifying these
appetites, placed them above all human law. To check them seems to
be a sort of sacrilege . . . . Here is the origin of the effervescence which
reigns in this part of society [the economy] and fro m i t has spread to
all the rest. I t is because the state of crisis and anomie is constant and,
so to speak, normal. From the top to the bottom of the ladder, desires
are stimulated without the possibility of satisfaction. Nothing can calm
them, because the goal toward which they aspire i s i n fi nitely beyond
anything that can be attained . . . . H enceforth the least setback leaves
one unable to recover . . . . O n e may ask whether it is not especially this
moral state which today m akes economic catastrophes so produ ctive
of suicides. For in a society with a healthy moral discipline, men are
b e tter able to cope with the blows of fortune . . . . And yet these dispo
sitions have become so inbred that society has grown to regard them as
normal. I t is continually repeated that it is man's nature to be eternally
dissatisfied, to advance constantly without rest or respite toward an
indefinite goal. The passion for infinity is daily presented as a mark
of m o ral distinction, whereas i t can appear only within unregulated
consciences which elevate t o the status of a rule the lack of regul ation
from which they suffer. The doctrine o f the most rapid progress a t any
price has become an article of faith . 18
Such statements indi cate a frequentl y ignored dimension of Durkheim's

concept of anomie, bring out its critical edge, and refu t e the idea that he
identified social health and normality with conformity to any and every kind
of status quo. O n the contrary, his normative and philosophically grounded
idea of social normality enabled him to work out something like a concept
of the pathology of nor malcy within certain extstmg states of soci ety. 19 It
even provided the basis for a critique of some o f his own more questionable
analyses or arguments.
We are now i n a position t o understand better D u rkhei m's idea o f the re
lation o f anomie to egoism and the more cogent elements of his conception of
the relation o f sociology to psychology. Egoism, in the sense o f atomistic in
dividualism, obviously had a large area of analytic and empirical overlapping
w i t h i ndividualistic forms o f anomie, and both might b e i n s t i t u t i onalized
o r i d e ologically j ustifi ed. But Durkhei m's neo-Ka n t i a n assumptions made
possible a d i s t i n c t i o n between anomie and egoism which, while allowing
fo r events involving both anomie and egoism, was analytically "clear and
d i s t i n c t . " In this sense, " an o m i e" referred to a p a t h o logy ( a n d pathos) of
practical reason and "egoism" t o a p a t hology of theoretical reas o n .
Suicides o f b o t h types [a nomie a n d egoistic] suffer fro m w h a t might

be called infi nity sickness [le mal de l'inji ni] . B u t this sickness d o e s
n o t t a k e t h e s a m e fo r m i n the t w o c a s e s . I n e g o i s m , i t i s c o n s c i o u s
i n telligence w h i c h is affected a n d w h i c h b e c o m e s h y p e r t r o p h i e d
b e y o n d m e a s u r e . In a n o m i e , i t i s s e n s i b i l i t y which i s overexci t e d
a n d u n h i n g e d . I n t h e former, t h o u g h t , through constant t u r n i n g
b ac k u p o n i tself, n o longer has a n o b j e c t . In the latter, p a s s i o n ,
n o l o n ge r r e c o g n i z i n g any l i m i ts , no l o n g e r has a g o a l . T h e fi rst
loses i tself in the infi n i t y o f the d r e a m ; the s e c o n d , in the infi nity
o f d es i r e . 20
Thus anomie, i n this more special sense, was related to the "practical,"
a p p e titive, and active fac ulties: desire, passion, and will, especially the will
to power. Egoism was related to t h e imaginative, intellectual, cognitive, a n d
" t h e o retical" fac u l t i e s .
I n fact, the m o r e p h i l o s o p h ically s p e c i a l meani ngs o f "anomie" a n d
"egoism" were closest t o Du rkheim's c o n c e p t i o n of personality types and
psychological expressions of his sociological variables. D e s p i t e its lack of
empi rical substantiati o n ( e . g . , through the analysis of case studies), B o o k
I I , chapter v i , of Suicide is p r o o f o f t h e i n adequacy o f t h e preval e n t i d e a
t h a t Durkheim, even o n a theoretical level, ignored t h e problem o f social
psychology and the internalization of social norms and conditions. Here he
argued that anomie was expressed in anxiety and manic agitation, egoism
in depression and melancholy. In fact, his conception of their socio-psycho

logical manifestations helps to explain why he correlated anomie, b u t n o t
the m o r e effete, p assive, a n d inner-directed egoism, w i t h the possibility o f
h o m i c i d e . A n d i t was from literature and philosophy t h a t he derived t h e
examples of t h e relation of social factors to individual personali ty, which h e
d i d n o t provide i n t h e fo rm o f empirical case studies. H e cited t h e cerebral
a n d i n d e c isive heroes of Lamartine as cases approximating the pure form of
egoism. Drawing on classical philosophy, he distinguished b e tween the more
detached and introspe ctive stoical, and the more disabused and skeptical
epicurean, variants of egoism. I n a rare m o m e n t of tragic i r ony, h e observed
of the egoistic frame of mind: " H owever individualized each one may b e ,
t h e r e i s always s o m e t h i ng w h i c h remains c o l l ective: i t i s t h e depression and
the melancholia which result fro m t h i s exaggerated i n d i v i d u a t i o n . One
communes i n sadness when one has n o t h i n g else i n comm on . " 2 1 Later, in his
Moral Education, D u r k h e i m was even more b i t t e r : " H u m a n activity . . . dis
simulates no thingness by decorating it with the specious name of infi nity." 22
In Suicide he offered as an exam p l e approximating t h e pure fo rm of anomie
the o u t l o o k o f Rene, t h e h e ro o f C h a t e a u b r i a n d , who e x c l a i m e d : "Is it my
fau l t i fl find limits everywhere, i f what i s fi n i t e has n o value fo r m e ? " 2 3 But,
as w e have already observed, Durkheim d i d recognize the p o s s i b i l i ty - and
indeed the probability in certain states of society - of a combination o f
t h e i d e a l types o f a n o m i e and egoism i n t h e "manic-depressive" personality
which displays "an alternation o f depression and agitation, dream and action,
waves of desire and the meditations of the melancholic." 24
Still, Durkheim d i d not sufficiently entertain t h e possibility that certain
areas of society and culture, such as art and the thought o f contestat ory
intellectuals, might, even in "normal" or n o r m atively legitimated condi
tions, represent relatively safe havens for radical experiments and even
h y p e r b o l i c o r excessive i n i tiatives involving extreme states that were b o th
significant in themselves a n d had a t least i n d i r e c t bearing on social life.
N o r d i d h e d e v o t e e x t e n d e d a t te n t i o n (as d i d M i khai l Bakh t i n ) to certain
social i n s t i t u t i o n s (for example, carnival) in w h i c h legitimated transgres
s i o n m i g h t be located and, to s o m e extent, made a p a r t o f the o n g o i n g
r h y t h m of s o c i a l life. D u rk h e i m d i d s e e a l i m i t e d role i n m o d e r n societies
fo r anomie as well as fo r certain s o c i a l milieux as special b e arers of a n o m i e
a n d e g o i s m , b u t h e did n o t provide a d i fferentiated view of t h e i r p o s s i b l y
creative as well as destru ctive c o n t r i b u t i o n s to s o c i e ty as a w h o l e . While h e

d i d l a t e r envisage feasts as effervescent events t h a t recreated social values i n
ways t h a t m i g h t a t t i m e s b e disconcerting, D u r k h e i m's thought w a s clearly
i n h o s p i t a b l e to unrestrained advocacy or celebration o f excess in any area
o r to the c o n c e p t i o n o f limits as mere pretexts fo r breaking t a b o o s . H e
nonetheless d i d have o p e n ings i n h i s t h o u g h t for a m o r e sustained under
standing o f actual and p o s s i b l e interactions between normative l i m i t s and
excessive, a t times radically transgressive, challenges t o them. But h e did
not develop them into a n u a n c ed, complex b a sis fo r analysis and j u dg
m e n t . After D urkheim, of course, the p r o b l e m of l i m i t s and excess b e c a m e
a fla shpoint o f French c r i t i c a l t h e o ry, with structuralists often stressing a
s o m e t i m es fo r m a l i d e a of l i m its a n d p o s ts t r ucturalists a n o t i o n of excess
which went b a c k to G e o rges Bataille's understanding of dep ense (excessive
expenditure) via a rather one-sided reading o f t h e gift presumably in terms
of p o tlatch - a r e a d i n g that t e n d e d t o reverse Durkhei m's stress on l i m i t s
and t o e l i d e M a uss's affi nity with D urkheim i n t h e e m p h a s i s o n t e m p e red
fo rms o f gift exchange related to "amiable rivalry."
A l t h o ugh h e did n o t fu l l y i n vestigate its i m p o r t fo r collective b e h avior,
the problem of the relation of scarcity to aggression and conAict in society
was basic to Durkhei m's notion o f anomie. He recognized two fo rms of
scarcity relevant t o social lif e. The first was de facto scarcity i n the form, fo r
example, of insufficient natural resources in relation to p o p ulation and the
existing state o f technology. The second was a form that depended on the
cultural definition of scarcity, as well as o n t h e institutional creation or social
conditioning of scarcity effected by t h e apportionment of things o f social
and cultural value and, o f course, of any economic s u r p l u s . The problem
of social order and solidarity was concerned with the dialectical relation of
these two types of scarci ty, fo r instance the ability o f the second to shape
o r distort the first - an a b i l i ty that i n certain ways might increase w i t h the
development of science and technology. Durkhei m's initial conception of t h e
p r o b l e m im p l i e d t h e circularity a n d tendenti ousness of argu m e n t s defe n d i n g
institutions, which thems elves aggravated scarci ty, b y an indiscriminate re
liance on the universal prevalence of scarcity. B u t , within limits, i t also
i m p l i e d the relativity o f exploitation and the ethnocentrism of arguments
which restricted the possibility of plenitude to modern societies possessed of
advanced technology. Defi nitions of what constituted legitimate expectation
a n d n e e d , beyond the requirements o f b i ological s u rvival, varied according

t o social type. One o f Durkheim's contentions was that the relative poverty
of traditional societies was itself often a basis fo r the limitation of desires
and expectations to a level a t which they could be institutionally satisfied
with available resources. This was the basis fo r the correlation o f poverty,
in certain societies, with low suicide rates. And especially in "primitive"
societies, the institutional definition of legi timate needs oft e n seemed to
be consensually accepted by all interested groups.
In societies undergoing a process of "modernizati o n , " the development
of s o c i a l order a n d soli darity amounted i n large p a r t t o t h e creation o f insti
tutions and traditions t h a t viably realized newer values and were consen
sually accepted as t h e basis fo r a d e fl n i t i o n o f legitimate needs. In modern
societies, partly because o f the fu nctional i m p eratives of t h e advanced
degree of divisi o n of labor, achievement tended to replace inheritance as
the basis o f status in society. The problem of social order, however, resided
in the relation o f status to stratification, scarci ty, and anomie. In Suicide,
Durkheim seemed to assume the existence of s o m e s o r t of stratification i n
a l l societies. B u t , a s in The Division of Labor, h is treatm e n t of stratification
was minimal and hesitant and tended t o raise questions rather than furnish
answers. Once again, h e fai l e d to i n q u i r e into the principles or principal
causes of stratification i n various types o f s o c i e ty. And h i s fo cus was clearly
o n anomie. Durkheim relied on the truism that, whatever the elements of
stratification in s o c i e ty, they would have t o b e complementary, rather than
contradictory, to fo rms of reciproc i ty, and consensua l ly accepted as j u s t , if
solidarity was to prevail i n society as a whole. I f fo rms of stratification, e.g. ,
in economic reward, were to be eliminated or even substantially reduced,
a sense o f legitimate limits enshrined in a conscience collective would be all
the more necessary to induce the more talented or powerfu l to accept equal
treatment with the mediocre or powerlessY
The elementary and reiterated point of Durkheim's argument was that
runaway a n o m i e , i n c l u d i n g i t s institut ionalized vari ety, made the problem
of solidari t y and social order insoluble, because i t both maximized scarcity
and eliminated the possibility of reciprocity in social relations. In a state of
society i n which desires were perpetually stimulated and status always i n
d o u b t, m u tually invasive and aggressive relations were inevitable. A society
that combined achievement values and anomie faced devastating problems,
for it gave rise to the type of person who was constrained to be preemptively
rapacious in his o r her dealings with others and anxiously uncertain i n his or
her every action. Through a combination of institutional change and advanced
technology, modern societies might be able to transcend the cruder forms of
economic exploitation. B u t economic exploitation, despite its importance,
was not the sole cause of restlessness and conflict in society. And affluence
alone was not a solution to the social problem of scarcity. In the absence of
consensually accepted norms which defined within fl exible limits an optimal
set of compatible alternatives i n the j u s t allocation of resources, any surplus
- however great it might be in absolute terms - would b e socially and
psychologically experienced in terms of uncooperative competition for scarce
values. And a n o m i e on t h i s level would p revent t h e s o l u t i o n of th e problem
of creating social milieus and symbolic forms which would permit people to
fe el at home in the world, at least t o some viable extent.
In some measure, Durkheim tried to provide more concrete answers to
these problems i n his corporatist proposals and his theory of morality and
religi o n . H i s underlying concern, however, was t o overcome uncontrolled
scarcity and a n o m i e b y creating appropriate institutional norms and c u l t ural
values. This overcoming required the divorce of achievement from limitless
achieving, i t s correlation with viable self-fulfillment, and i t s reconciliation
with the humanistic ideal which asserted that human b eings were equal in a
sense m o r e basic than all the senses in which they were unequal. D u rkheim
more than intimated that in a state of society marked by extreme anomie and
egoism, people were in fac t a l ready equal in a respect perhaps as fu ndamental
as all the respects in which they were unequal - i . e . , in their common anxiety
and isolation. The problem was to use this condition, which so easily lent
itself psychologically t o destructive compensatory reactions, as a motivation
for the creation of a j ust society. Only thro ugh a sense o f j us t institutional
limits could society conjoin modern achievement values with the humane
classical ideals o f personal maturation and legitimate social order as the
coordinate fo u n d a t i o n s o f s e l f-fulfi l l m e n t and s o l i d arity. I n d e e d , i n one of
his very first articles Durkheim enunciated the idea that was to serve as the
inspiration o f Suicide and o f his social philosophy of finitude i n general:
" H o w I prefer the words of the old sages who recommend b e fore all else the
full and tranquil possession o f oneself. N o d o u b t , the s p i r i t as it develops
needs to have b efore it vaster horizons; b u t for all that it does not ch ange
/ 60 J:rnile Durkheirn: Sociologist and Philosopher
its nature and remains finite."2 6 One might add that, in t h i s context, the
very desire fo r transcendence might b e displaced i n the direction o f radical
transgression, which would also pose problems for a viable relation b e tween
normative limits and challenges to t h e m .
S o c i ety and personality as complemen tary int egrated wholes whose
finite fu llness was activated and agitated b y a marginal leaven o f anomie:
this was D u rkheim's essential vision throughout his life. And he increasingly
saw the healthy society as one that b o t h institutionally constrained and
spontaneously evoked the commitment o f all b u t the incorrigibly criminal
a n d the extraordinarily creative. It accomplished this feat by fo unding the
d o m i n a n t sense of solidarity and "wholeness" in a conscience collective that
represented a c u l t urally relat ive vari a n t of substantive reason t h a t A e x i b l y
disciplined t h e imagination and controlled d e s i r e a n d will.
Altruism and Fatalism
Durkheim began h i s discuss i o n of altruism with t h e fo l l owing general

pronouncement:
In the ordering of life, nothing i s good without measure [mesure] .

A b i o logical characteristic can fulfill the ends i t m u s t serve only i f i t
does n o t g o beyond certain limits. T h e same principle applies to social
phenomena. If excessive individuation leads to suicide, insufficient
individuation produces the same effect. \'Vhen a man is detached from
society, h e readily kills himself; he also kills himself when he is too
strongly i ntegrated into societyY
Thus a l t r u i s m , in contrast t o egoism, was c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of a s o c i a l

c o n t e x t m a r k e d b y excessive i n t e g r a t i o n a n d s o l i darity, e s p e cially i n
e x t r e m e c o m m u n a l fo r m s . F a t a l i s m , i n c o n t r a s t t o a n o m i e , character
ized a social context marked b y "an excess of r e g u l a t i o n t h r o u gh w h i c h
s u b j e e r s find t h e i r future p i t i lessly w a l l e d u p and t h e i r p a s s i o n s violently
i n hi b i te d b y a n o p pressive d i s c i p l i n e . " 2 R But D u rk h e i m beli eved t h a t nei
t h e r altruism n o r fatalism was signifi cant i n modern s o c i e ty. In h i s view,
modern s o c i e ty in the West was characterized by egoism and a n o m i e , by
m i n i m a l c o m m u n i ty, and by i n s t i t u t i o n a l structures that m i g h t be rigid
and authori tarian b u t were often comparatively b enign in nature. More over,
for h i m , o p p ressive or repressive fe atures of m o d e r n i n s t i t u t i o n s w o u l d
b e m e t , n o t b y fatal i s t i c resignation, b u t b y m i l i t a n t , i m p a t i e n t p r o t e s t
t h a t often a t t a i n e d b y i ts d e m a n d s a n o m i e h e i g h t s c o m p l e m e n t a r y t o
t h o s e o f t h e d o m i n a n t system. T h e p e c u l iarly u n s t a b i lizing force of t h i s
c o m b i n a t i o n of factors d i d n o t e s c a p e D u r k h e i m , although he fa iled t o
relate i t to t h e p o s s i b l e genesis o f n e o f atalistic o p p ression a n d authori tar
ian regi m e n t a ti o n in s o c i ety.
For Durkheim extreme altruism was a trait of traditional, and especially
of "primitive," societies. D urkheim's discussion of the p o s s i b l e extremism
of self-sacrificial devotion t o o thers made apparent the s u p e r fi c i a l i ty of
i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s that present h i m as the u n c o n d i t i o n a l advocate of solidarity
i n s o c i e ty. All forms of excess were antipathetical t o his b a s i c p h i l o s o p hy,
a t least i n s o fa r as t h e y b e c a m e generalized i n s o c i e ty.
I n extremely a l t r u i s t i c contexts, s u i c i d e m i g h t i n certain cases b e o b l i g
a t o r y ( e . g . , the practice of s u t t e e a m o n g widows in I n d i a ) , b e considered
a sup ererogatory virtuous act ( e . g . , martyrdom for a c a u s e ) , or simply b e
t h e result o f a t o t a l involve m e n t i n t h e collectivity a n d its m a n y religious
c u s t o m s . Another fo rm of suicide classified by Durkheim as altruistic was
t h e self-immolating t y p e i n w h i c h a n offense a g a i n s t a d e e p l y rooted value
created a sense o f g u i l t so strong that suicide b e c a m e a mode of expiation.
E x a m p les o f a l t r u i s t i c suicide i n o n e fo r m or another a b o u n d e d in tradi
tional societies. S i m i l a r to the obligation o f s u t t e e was the i n j u n c t i o n t h a t
retainers n o t s u rvive t h e d e a t h of t h e i r c h i e f or patron. Danish warriors
c o m m i t t e d s u i c i d e to escape the ignominy o f dying i n b e d . For the G o ths,
natural death was shamefu l ; t h e m y t h i c a l punishment fo r i t was condem
nation to eternal stagnation i n caves fi lled with venomous animals. The
Visigoths h a d a high rock, named t h e R o c k o f Ancestors, fro m which old
men threw themselves when they were t i r e d of l i fe a n d fel t themselves to
b e a burden to t h e c o m m u n i ty. Among the Spanish Celts a fut u r e life of
glory was reserved fo r s u i c i d e s , while hell a w a i t e d t h o s e who died of illness
o r old age. These might b e called suicides of strength. Altruistic suicide also
had i t s a p p e a l to the weak who had n o other viable alternatives. S u i ci d e s
expressing p r o t e s t m i g h t b e directed b y t h e o p p r e s s e d a g a i n s t a p o werful
oppressor a n d , in r i t u a l form, be conceived as i m p o s i n g u p o n the adver
sary a b urden of guilt of crushing p r o p o r t i o n s . I n a sense, r i t u a l s u i c i d e
1 62 J:rnile Durkheirn: Sociologist and Philosopher
might fu n c t i o n as the symbolic vengeance of the weak, who "altruisti cally"

conferred u p o n t h e i r e n e m i e s an imaginary gift of d e a t h .
Isolated instances o f altruistic s u i c i d e o f course occurred i n modern
society. There was, fo r example, the m o th e r who sacrificed her life i n order
t o save her child fr o m harm. But the institutional context that Durkheim
treated extensively as e m b o dying a modern vestige o f "primi tive" morality
was the m i l i tary. In fact, this was the only section of his chapter on altruistic
suicide i n which D u rkheim cited statistics. They showed higher suicide rates
among military men than among civilians and a tendency for the suicide
rate to increase with the duration o f mili tary service. The statistics indicated
that the nature o f military organization and the t y p e of social psychology
it fo stered e x p l a i n e d t h e rate d i fferentials. As was t h e case a m o n g " p r i m i
tive s , " the extreme s p i r i t o f abnegation and collective solidarity induced
m i l i t a r y m e n t o place l i t t l e value o n t h e i r own i n d i v i d u a l existence a n d
t o b e ready to risk t h e i r lives for a point d'honneur. T h e Suicide rate of the
military over t i m e , however, was following a downward trend. D urkheim
fo und the reason in the decline o f the old m i l i tary spirit and the influence
of modern values and c o n d i t i o n s i n fos t e r i n g a m o re flexible disci p l i n e and
greater individualism within the mili tary itself?9
T h e nature and significance of altruistic suicide were of course q u i t e
d i fferent from those of egoistic o r a n o m i e s u i c i d e . Al t r u i s t i c s u i c i d e was
prompted b y an affirmation of the norms and values of society and was at
t i m e s even honored by the relevant group. Egoistic and anomie suicides were
induced by despair, anxiety, and s u ffering and were generally c o n d e m n e d
b y soci ety.
In his discussion of egoistic suicide, however, Durkheim touched o n
t h e possible genesis i n modern society o f extreme a n d , indeed, fanatical
"altruistic" c o n texts which depressed the rate of suicides caused by egoistic
conditions. H i s brief but p o i n t e d discussion - his only significant refer
ence i n Suicide t o social conflict - reveals his awareness o f the " i n tegrating"
fu n c t i o n of social c o n fl i c t .
G reat social co m m o ti o n s , like great p o p u l a r wars, i n A a m e collective

sentiments, s t i m u l a t e party s p i r i t a n d p a t r i o t i s m , p o l i t ical fai t h and
national fai t h , and by concentrating activities toward the same goal,
determine, at least fo r a time, a stronger integration o f soci ety. T h i s
Chapter 4 Suicide and Solidarity 1 6.3
salutary infl uence is n o t d u e to the crisis i t s e l f b u t to t h e struggles of

which the crisis is the cause. Since they oblige men to come together
to conf rant a c o m m o n danger, the individual thinks less of h i m s e l f
and m o r e o f the c o m m o n cause. M o reover, o n e understands how
this integration m a y n o t be p u rely m o mentary but may a t times
s u rvive t h e causes which were i t s immediate o c c a s i o n , e s p e c i ally
w h e n it i s i n t e nse. 30
Earlier, in h i s discussion of the correlation of intellectual p u rsuits and

egoism, Durkheim had applied the same principle of the integration of
groups and personalities through shared social antagonism to the Jews, who
a voided suicide b y c o m b i n i n g intellectualism w i t h ethnic s o l i d arity.
It is a g e n e r a l law t h a t r e l i g i o u s m i n o r i t i es , in o r d e r to be able t o
m a i n t a i n t h e m s elves m o r e s e c u r e l y against t h e h a t r e d s o f w h i ch
t h e y are t h e o b j e c t s , or s i m p l y t h rough a s o r t of e m u l a t i o n , m ake
an effo r t to be s u p e r i o r in knowledge t o s u r r o u n d i n g p o p ulations.
T h u s P r o t e s t a n t s t h e m s e l ves s h ow m o re taste fo r l e a r n i n g when
they are a m i n o r i ty. The Jew seeks e d u c a t i o n , not t o replace his
collective prej u d i ce s with t h o u g h t - o u t n o t i o n s , b u t s i m ply t o b e
b e t te r a r m e d i n t h e struggle. Fo r h i m t h i s i s a m e a n s o f c o m p e n
s a t i n g f o r t h e d i s a d v a n t a g e o u s s i t u a t i o n w h i c h i s c r e a t e d fo r h i m
b y o p i n i o n a n d a t t i m e s b y t h e l a w. S i n c e l e a r n i n g i n i tself h a s
l i ttle effect on vigorous t r a d i t i o n s , h e s u p e r i m p o ses h i s i n t ellectual
l i fe o n his c u s t o m a r y activity w i t h o u t h a v i n g the fo r m e r c u t i n t o
t h e latter. H e n c e t h e c o m p l e x i t y o f h i s p h y s i o g n o my. P r i m i t i v e
i n c e r t a i n w a y s , h e is i n o t h e r w a y s a c e r e b r a l a n d refi ned t y p e .
T h u s h e j oi n s t h e advantages o f l i t t l e g r o u p s o f t h e p a s t w i t h
t h e b e nefits o f t h e i n t e n s e c u l t u r e o f o u r g r e a t c o n t e m p o r a r y
s o c i e t i e s . H e has all t h e i n t e l l i g e n c e o f m o d e r n s w i t h o u t s h a r i n g
t h e i r d es p a i r. 5 1
I t wou ld, o f course, b e d i ffi c u l t not t o see a n element of biographical nos

talgia in this portrait, as well as a partial i n t i m a t i o n o f Durkheim's reformist
hopes fo r professional gro u p s .
D u r k h e i m devoted only a brief foo t n o t e t o "fatalistic" s u i c i d e , fo r h e
believe d t h i s type t o b e largely o f h i s t o r i c a l i n t e r e s t . Although h i s c o n c e p t
o f fat a l i s m s e e m s t o h a r k b a c k t o t h e d i s c u s s i o n o f t h e c o n s t r a i n e d o r
fo rced d i v i s i o n o f l a b o r in h i s fi r s t m a j o r w o r k , D u r k h e i m d i d n o t refer
to t h i s p r o b l e m in t h e l a t e r b o ok. I n p a r t , t h i s was b e c a u s e the i d e a of
fat a l i s m in Suicide was not r e l a t e d t o t h e existence of e x p l o i tative s t r u c
tures alone. I t d i a l e c t i c a l l y c o m p r i s e d b o th t h e o p pressive or repressive
nature o f i n s t i t u t i o n a l n o r m s and the nature of i n d i v i d u a l or collective
r e s p o n s e t o t h e m . F a t a l i s m , in o t h e r w o r d s , i m p l i e d the kind of resig
n a t i o n t o " m o r a l or m at e r i a l d e s p o t i s m " that l e d , n o t to s p o n t a n e o u s o r
organized p r o t e s t , b u t t o s u i c i d e ( o r p e r h a p s t o c r i m e ) . 3 2 F r o m h i s t o r y
D u r k h e i m d r e w examples o f t h e s ui c i d e s of slaves. F r o m m o d e r n soci
e t y, h e cited the less i n s t i t u t i o n a l l y p e r t i n e n t instances o f wives w i t h o u t
children a n d o f h u s b a n d s t o o i m m a t u r e t o a s s u m e t h e r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s
o f m arri age; h e d i d n o t r a i s e t h e q u es t i o n o f t h e r e l a t i o n o f t h e s e cases
to the s o c i o c u l t u r a l defi nition o f t h e role o f t h e m a r r i e d w o m a n , t h e
gendering o f r o l e s i n g e n e r a l , t h e r e l a t i o n o f t h e s e x e s , or t h e n a t u r e o f
t h e m o d e r n family.
D urkheim's b r i e f d i s c u s s i o n o f fa t a l i s t i c s ui c i d e h a s t h e m e r i t of j usti
fying t h e inclusion i n t h e d e fi n i t i o n o f s u i c i d e of a cognitive factor t h a t
i m p l i e d t h e a b i l i t y o f t h e i n d i v i d u a l t o assess t h e o b j ective s i t u a t i o n a n d
t o take a fo rm o f a c t i o n t h a t r e q u i r e d a s i g n i fi c a n t m e a s u r e o f i n i t i a t i v e .
For s u i c i d e t o b e a t y p i c a l r e a c t i o n t o o p p r e s s i o n , a u t h o r i t a r i a n i s m w o u l d
have t o b e s t r o n g e n o u gh t o check m o r e effective forms o f p r o t e s t , b u t
n o t s o s t r o n g a s t o e l i m i n a t e all p o s s i b i l i t y o r h o p e o f resistance. I t h a s
been remarked that in situations approximating total oppression, the
suicide r a t e , i n s t e a d o f rising, tends t o d r o p . T h i s was, for example, true o f
Nazi c o n c e n t r a t i o n c a m p s . 3 3 In t h e context o f e x t r e m e a u t h o r i t a r i a n i s m ,
c o n d i t i o n s m i g h t i n d u ce d i s e m p o w e r m e n t , a n i n a b i l i t y t o m a k e obj ective
assessments, a loss of the sense of p e r s o n a l i d e n t i t y a n d "ego b o u n d a r i e s , "
a n d e v e n w h a t Fre u d t e r m e d " i d e n ti fi cation w i t h t h e aggr e s s o r. " T h u s a
s i t u a t i o n of e x t r e m e s o c i a l p a t h o l o g y m i g h t exclude even the o p ti o n of
s u i c i d e as an e x i s t e n t i a l r e s p o n s e .
Although D u rkh e i m fai l e d t o i n v e s t i g a t e a d e q u a t e l y t h e g e n e s i s a n d
n a t u r e o f extremely a u t h o ri t a r i a n a t t e m p t s a t i n t e g r a t i o n , i t m a y b e o b
served t h a t h i s b el i e f t h a t m o d e r n Western s o c i e t i e s w o u l d give b i r t h ,
n o t t o fatalistic s u i c i d e s , b u t t o a c o m b i n a t i o n o f l i b eralized i n s t i t u t i o n al
n o r m s ( o r a t l e a s t b e n i g n a u t h o r i t a r i a n i s m ) a n d fo r m s o f p r o t e s t s h o t
through with a n o m i e h a s b e e n b o r n e o ut b y a t least c e r t a i n devel o p m e n t s
s i n c e h i s d e a t h . O n e instance has b e e n t h e m u t a t i o n of sexual n o r m s

a n d a t t i t udes. D ur k h e i m's own t i m e w a s t h e p e r i o d d u r i n g w h i c h F r e u d
t r e a t e d h y s t e r i a c a u s e d b y e x t r e m e l y r e p r e s s i v e sexual n o r m s . S i n c e t h a t
t i m e , p u r i t a n i c al o ffi c i a l m o r ality has b ee n i n creasingly u n d e r c u t by a
sexual revo l u t i o n that has c o m b i n e d greater p e r m i s siveness with d i s o r i
e n t a t i o n c o n c e r n i n g i t s l e g i t i m a t e l i m i t s . E v e n p r o p h ets o f l i b e r a t i o n
have b e e n l e d t o speak o f "repressive d e s u b l i m a t i o n . " T h e confused s t a t u s
o f sexual a t t i t u d e s is o n l y one a s p e c t o f t h e m o d e r n c r i s i s o f l e g i t i m a c y
w h i c h D ur k h e i m p e r c e i v e d . A s Erik Erikson h a s o b s e r v e d : "The p a t i e n t
o f t o d ay s u ffers m o s t u n d e r t h e p r o b l e m o f w h a t h e s h o u l d b e lieve i n a n d
who he should - or indeed might - b e or become; while the patient
o f e a r l y p s y c h o a n alysis suffered m os t u n d e r i n h i b i t i o n s w h i ch prevented
h i m fr o m b e i n g what o r w h o h e t h o u g h t h e was."3 4 The " i d e n t i ty crisis"
i n i t s extreme forms i s of c o u r s e a psychological analogue o f a n o m i e .
I n w h a t w a s for D u rkh e i m a " healthy" o r i n tegrated s o c iety, m u c h o f
t h e c r i s i s w o u l d b e taken o u t o f t h e s e a r c h for i d en t i ty, a n d " i d e n tity"
itself might be more fl exible and even fl ui d t o t h e extent that it was not
a n x i e ty- r i d d e n a n d defensive.
Durkheim and Weber
If asked to name the sociological classic par excellence, m o s t sociologists

would hesitate b e tween Suicide and The Protestant Ethic. But the extent to
which these two works are complementary as c o n t r i b u t i o n s t o the analysis
of m o d e rn social and cultural history has been little recognized.
Both Durkheim and Weber, in their conception o f m o d e r n soci ety,
stressed the i m portance of the c o m p arative m e t h o d in investigating m aj o r
processes o f cultural transformation. Their fo ci converged o n the relation
of ideologies or value systems to i n s t i t u t i ons, a trait of Durkheim's work
t h a t became increasingly p r o m i n e n t with his growing i n terest i n religi o n . In
The Division of Labor, D u rkheim treated anomie and a crisis of transition
i n terms o f the b reakdown of one type of social system u n d e r the i m p a c t
of demographic pressure and the rise of newer i n s t i t u t ions a n d v a l u e s . B u t
i n comparison with Weber's elaborate i nvestigation o f feudal i n s t i t u t i o n s ,
sym b o l i c systems, u r b a n i z a t i o n , a n d b u reaucracy, t h e level of discussion
in D urkheim's fi rst m a j o r work was of m i n i m a l historical interest. D e s p i t e

the fac t t h a t i t shared Durkheim's constant tendency to devote insufficient
attention to the precise nature and historical specificity of symbolic beliefs
a n d i n s t i t u t i o n a l practices, Suicide was often more to the p o i n t . Suicide at
tempted an analysis of t h e functions and consequences of instituti ons and
values whose historical genesis and symb o l i c nature Weber later investigated
in The Protestan t Ethic and the Spirit of Cap italism ( 1 92 0 ) .
I n d e e d , t h e o v e r a l l r e l a t i o n s h i p b e t w e e n t h e i d e as o f D u rk h e i m
a n d W e b e r reveals a n a p p ar e n t p ar a d o x t h a t w o u l d m e r i t e x t e n s i v e
i n v e s t i g a t i o n . T h e b a s i c a s s u m p t i o n s o f t h e s e t w o thinkers w e r e often
d i a m etrically o p p o s e d . W e b e r ' s t h o u g h t rested on tragic and i r o n i c as
s u m p t i o n s . He c o m b i n e d a N i e t z s c h e a n m e t a p h y s i c with a n e o- K a n t i a n
m e t h o d o l ogy . F o r \Y./ e b e r , a s for N i e t z s c h e , reality w a s a n o m i e . M e aning
ful s t r u c t u r e s were fictive p r o j e c t i o n s o f the h u m a n m i n d . Any n o t i o n of
a c o r r e s p o n d e n c e b e tween c o n c e p t and r e a l i ty was o u t of the q u e s t i o n . A
c o n c e p t d i d n o t represent reality; i t actively s h a p e d or even c o n s t r u c t e d
i t . K n o w l e d g e , fo r W e b e r , t h u s h a d a h i g h l y p r o b l e m a t i c b as i s . F u n d a
m e n t a l co n A i c t , m o reover, w a s a n i n e s c a p a b l e fac t of life. H u m a n values,
which were c r u c i a l i n the attempt t o i m p o s e order o n chaos, often e x i s t e d
i n a s t a t e o f i n c o m m e n s u r a b i l i t y and i r r e c o n c i l a b l e c o n fl i c t w i t h o n e
a n o t h e r . T h e c h o i c e o f v a l u e s w a s , i n the l a s t analysis, the s u b j e ctive,
existential d e c i s i o n of t h e i n d i v i d u a l , and this u l t i m ately irrational deci
sion d e t e r m i n e d one's entire p e rs p ective o n reality. ( D urkheim p r o v i d e d
a largely c r i t i c a l a p p r a i s a l o f the t h o u g h t o f N i e tz s c h e in his Pragmatisme
et sociologie. B u t he seemed to know Ni etzsche's ideas only fro m second
ary sources.) S o c i ological m e t h o d , fo r Weber, involved t h e elaboration o f
"one-sided" analytical models ( o r "ideal types") of t h e attempts of p e o p l e t o
i m p ose o r d e r on chaos. I n a sense, i t w a s ultimately a higher-order fi c t i o n
o r c o n t r o l l e d , fo rmally rational, u t o p i a n exercise: a metafi ctive stylization
of more or less effective and reali ty-co nstituting social fictions, utopias, and
im aginaries. Moreover, Weber m a i n t a i n e d that research in social s c i e n c e
was initially guided by subj ective values, b u t o n c e significant p r o b l e m s were
selected, the results o b tained might in some restricted sense b e o b j e ctive
and value-neutral. I n terms of its conclusions, social science confronted an
irrational universe with fo rmally rational m e t h o d s , b u t it remained s i l e n t
ab o u t s u b s tantive values.
D u r k h e i m o s c i l l a t e d b e tween a C a r t e s i a n i z e d n e o - Ka n t i a n a n d a
m o re H eg e l i a n d i al e c t i c a l c o n c e p t i o n of s c i e n c e . H i s t o ry, fo r h i m , was
t h e scene of a s t r u ggle between m e a n ingful order and a n o m i e chaos. B u t
t h e prevalence o f o r d e r was n o r m a l , a n d excessive a n o m i e w a s p a t h o
l o g i c a l . I n c o n t r a s t t o We b er, D u r k h e i m d i d n o t fi n d t h e knowledge o f
r e a l i t y t o b e i t s e l f h i g h l y p ro b le m a t i c . D u rk h e i m's e p i s t e m ology was a
v a r i a n t of t h e " c o r r e s p o n d e n c e " t h e o r y o f t r u t h . And it u l t i mately was
s u b o r d i n a t e d t o a very t r a d i t i o n a l k i n d of m et a p h y s i c . Except for a n
i r r e d u c i b l e m argin o f a n o m i e , e s s e n t i a l r e a l i t y w a s r a t i o n a l l y s t r u c t u r e d ,
a n d s c i e n c e c o u l d d i s cover i t s l a w s . D u rkheim's i d e a o f s o c i a l s c i e n c e
c l o s e l y i n t e g r a t e d c o g n i t i v e and n o r m a tive a s p e c t s . Val u e s c o u l d b e
r a t i o n ally k n ow n . A n d a v i a b l e h ar m o n y o f values was p o s s i b l e i n t h e
n o r m al s o ci e ty. F r o m D u rk h e i m's p e r s p ec t i v e , Weber was t h e o r i z i n g
f r o m w i t h i n a n a n o m i e c o n t e x t a n d p r o p o s i n g , a t b es t , a t e n u o u s b as i s
for r a t i o n al i t y w i t h i n t h e confi nes o f a n o m i e . F r o m Web e r's p e r s p ec
tive, D u r k h e i m w a s b e i n g irrelevantly t r a d i t i o n a l , h o p e l e s s ly n a i v e , a n d
b l i n d l y u t o p i a n . T h e a p p a r e n t p a r a d o x , however, i s t h a t , o n t h e b asis o f
s u c h a n t i t h e t i c a l a ss u m p t i o n s , D u rk h e i m a n d Web e r a r r i v e d a t l ar g e l y
c o m p l e m e n t a r y r e s e a r c h i n t e r e s t s and s p e c i fi c a n alyses i n t h e i r inves
t i g a t i o n of c u l t u r e and s o ci e ty.
D ur k h e i m c l a s s i fi ed P r o t e s t a n t i s m u n d e r e go i sm and s om ew h a t
s k e t c h i l y e x p l a i n e d i ts c o r r e l a t i o n w i t h r e l a tively h i g h s ui c i d e rates ( i n
c o n t r a s t w i t h J u d a i s m a n d C at h o l i c i s m ) b y drawing a t t e n t i o n t o t h e
a b s e n c e o f s o l i d a r i t y i n a r e l i g i o u s s o c i e t y t h a t i n s t i t u t i o nalized i n d i
v i d u a l i s t i c fre e e n q u i ry. P r o t e s t a n t i s m r e d u c e d t o a m i n i m u m t h e n e x u s
b e t w e e n s y m b o l i c c u l t and e x i s t e n t i a l c o m m u ni t y t h a t D u r k h e i m w a s
l a t e r t o p r e s e n t as t h e e s s e n c e o f t h e r e l i gi o us p h en om e n o n . Web e r m ay
n o t have s h a r e d t h e p h i l o s o p h i cally c r i t i c a l i n t e n t of D u r kh e i m , b u t h e
d i d c o n c u r i n t h e essentials o f t h e a n a l y s i s .
In i t s extreme i n h u m a n i ty t h i s doctrine [predestination] must above

all have had one consequence fo r the l i fe of a generation which
surrendered to its magnificent consistency. That was a fe eling of
unprecedented inner loneliness of the single individual. I n w h a t was
for the man of the age o f the Reformation the most i m p o r t a n t thing
in l i fe , h i s eternal salvation, h e was forced t o m e e t a destiny which
had been decreed fo r h i m fro m eternity. No o n e c o u l d h e l p h i m . N o

priest . . . . N o sacraments . . . . N o church . . . . Finally, even no G o d . For
even Christ had died only for t h e elect, fo r whose b e n e fi t God had
decreed his martyrdom fro m eternity. This, the complete elimination
of salvation through the Church and the sacraments (which was i n Lu
theranism by no means developed to its final conclusions), was what
fo rmed the absolu tely d ecisive d i fference from Catholicism. The great
historic process in the devel o p m e n t of religi o n s , the elimination of
magic from the world [die Entzauberung der Welt - disenchantment] ,
which had b egun w i t h the old Heb rew p r o p h ets and, in conjunction
w i t h Hellenistic scientific thought, had repudiated all magical means
t o salvation as superstition and sin, came here t o its logical conclusion.
The genuine Puritan even rejected all signs of religious ceremony at
the grave and b ur i e d his nearest and dearest w i t h o u t song o r ritual
in order that no superstition, n o trust i n the effects of magical and
sacramental forces o n salvation, should creep i n . 3 5
T h u s Dowden, w h o m Web er q u o t e d , wrote: " T h e d e e p e s t c o m m u n i t y

[ w i t h G o d ] is fo u n d n o t i n i n s t i t u t i o n s o r c o r p o r a t i o n s or churches b u t i n
t h e secrets o f a solitary h e a r t . " 3 6 T h i s c o n c e p t i o n o f t h e essential religious
situation as that o f a s o l i t ary individual whose salvation had b e e n decided
b y a totally transcendent, h i d d e n divinity might be s e e n as a symbolic
representation which s i m u l t a n e ously made sense o f, and fun c t i o n e d t o
s u s t a i n , a sense of m e l a n c h o l i c i s o l a t i o n and a n o m i e a n x i e t y in a p e r i o d
o f historical t r a n s i t i o n . This m i g h t have various c o n s e q u e n c e s i n c l u d i n g
the form a t i o n of extremely i n t e g r a t e d groups u n d e r c h a r i s m a t i c l e a d e r s ,
a s i n the c a s e o f Cromwell's "army o f s a i n t s . " Here people r e a c t e d t o ex
treme i s o l a t i o n and anxiety, fostered by religious s y m b o l i s m , by seeking
demanding a n d m i l i tantly fanatical fo rms of social integration. But what
concerned We b e r was another h i s t o r i c a l p o s s i b i l i ty : the relationship of
the religious doctrine o f predestination and Deus Absconditus ( " H i d d e n
G o d " ) t o a n e t h i c of "this-worldly asceticism" w h i c h c o m b i n e d anxiety
ab o u t o n e 's fa te with a rigorous fo r m of i n d i v i d u a l i s t i c self- d i s c i p l i n e ,
achievement, and fo rmally r a t i o n a l activity i n o cc u p a t i o n a l life. T h i s re
lationship Web er, of c o u r s e , conceived as vital in the fo r m a t i o n of an e l i t e
o f c a p i t a l i s t i c entrepreneurs w h o s e i n fl u e n c e h e l p e d d e t e r m i n e t h e s h a p e
o f m o d e r n s o c i e t y i n the Wes t .
It i s necessary to n o t e , w h a t h a s o ften b e e n forgotten, t h a t t h e

Refo r m a t i o n m e a n t not t h e e l i m i n a t i o n o f t h e C h u rch's c o n t r o l
o v e r everyday l i f e , b u t r a t h e r t h e s u b s t i t u t i o n o f a n e w fo r m o f
c o n t r o l f o r t h e p revious o n e . I t m e a n t a rep u d i at i o n of a c o n t ro l
w h i c h w a s very lax, at t h a t t i m e scarcely p e r c e p t i b l e i n p r a c t i c e ,
and h a r d l y m o r e t h a n for m a l , i n favo r o f a r e g u l a t i o n o f t h e w h o l e
o f conduct w h i c h , p e n e t r a t i n g t o a l l d e p a r t m e n t s of p r i v a t e a n d
p u b l i c ! i fe , w a s infi nitely b u r d e ns o m e a n d earnestly enforced. 3 7
T h u s , where D u r k h e i m stressed the role of a n o m i e i n m o de r n his

to ry, Weber e m p h asized the b i r t h o f a new " n o m i e " o r disciplinary e t h i c .
B u t Weber h i m s e l f t e n d e d t o s i t u a t e t h e n e w " n o m i e " o n t h e fo r m a l l y
r a t i o n a l l e v e l o f t h e a d j u s t m e n t o f means t o ends; a n d h e perceived a
c e r t a i n t y p e o f i n s t i t u t i o n al i z e d a n o m i e o n t h e level o f e n d s in m o d ern
activity. W h a t were t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p s a m o n g t h e religious d o c t r i n e of
p r e d e s t i n a t i o n , t h e t o t a l i n v e s t m e n t of the sacred in the t r a n s c e n d e n t ,
t h e new fo rmally r a t i o n a l " n o m i e " o r e t h i c o f a s c e t i c s e l f- d i s c i p l i n e i n
a calling, c a p i t a l i s m , a n d t h e e l e m e n t o f i n s t i t u t i o n a l i z e d a n o m i e or
l i m i tlessness o n t h e level o f e n d s which, according t o D ur k h e i m , was
t h e negation of s u b stantive r a t i o n a l i ty ? In a s e n s e , the p r o b l e m o f the
P r o t e s t a n t sectarian w h o b elieved i n p r e d e s t i n a t i o n d e c r e e d by a h i d d e n
G o d w a s for Web e r t h e p r o b l e m o f o b j ective i n d i c e s . It w a s t h i s n e e d fo r
a v i s i b l e sign of a s t a t e of e l e c t i o n which o n e c o u l d never directly know
or b e e n t i r e l y sure of t h a t p rovided t h e i n tel l i g i b l e b u t u n i n te n d e d l i n k
between t h e Protestant religious p r o b l e m a t i c a n d t h e e t h o s o f c a p i t a l i s m .
Worldly s u c c e s s i n t h e form o f l i m i tless c o m p e t i t i v e a c h i e v i n g p ur s u e d
w i t h a s c e t i c r i g o r a n d fun c t i o n a l r a t i o n a l i ty, a n d conceived a s t h e struc
tural m o t i v a t i o n o f work in a n o c c u p a t i o n a l calling, b e c a m e the visible
index o f p e r s o n a l salva t i o n . Although h e n o t e d t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f o t h e r
fac t o r s , i t w a s t h e c o m b i n a t i o n o f i n s t i t u t i o n a l i z e d l i m i tlessness o n t h e
level o f ends a n d fu n c t i o n a l l y r a t i o n a l c a l c u l a t i o n a n d d i s c i p l i n e o n t h e
level o f means t h a t s e e m e d to b e the t r u l y d i s t i n ctive c r i t e r i o n o f t h e
c a p i t a l i s t e t h o s i n Weber's m i n d .
The i m p u lse t o acquisition, p u r s u i t o f gain, o f mo ney, has i n itself

nothing to d o with capitalism. This i m p ulse exists and has existed
among waiters, physicians, coachmen, artists, prostitutes, dishonest
officials, soldiers, nobles, crusaders, gamblers, and b eggars . . . . Un

limited greed fo r gain is not in the least identical with capitalism, and
is still less its s p i r i t . . . . But capitalism is identical with the p u r s u i t of
profit, and fo rever renewed profit, by means of continuous, rational,
capitalistic enterprise . . . . We will define a capitalistic economic action
as one which rests o n t h e expectation o f profit by the utilization of
opportunities fo r exchange, that i s on (form ally) peaceful chances
of p r o fi t . 3 8
T h i s c o n c e p t i o n o f c a p i t a l i s m was n o t , i t m a y be a d d e d , d e p e n d e n t
u p o n t h e p r i v a t e ownership o r even control o f t h e m e a n s o f p r o d u c t i o n ;
i t r e ferred to the issues o f h o w i n s t i t u t ions functioned a n d the n a t u r e o f
control. Web e r i d entifi ed as traditional, i n c o n trast w i t h t h e capitalistic
ethos, the a t t i t u d e based on a sense of legitimate limits in the m u t u a l
a d j u s t m e n t o f needs a n d i n s t i t u t i o n alized m e a n s o f sati sfacti o n . Web er's
perspective e n a b l e d him to emphasize t h e new "no mie" i n volved i n s o b e r
b o urgeois self- d i s c i p l i n e a n d rationality i n t h e a d j u s t m e n t of means t o
e n d s . F r o m D u rkhei m's perspective, this s i t u a t i o n would a p p e a r as o n e
case o f a c o m b i n a t i o n o f a pathology o f "practical" reason ( i n s t i t u t i onalized
l i m i tlessness o r anomie) and a s u b s i d i ary patho logy o f "theoretical" reason
(funct i o n a l rationality directed to l i m i tless e n d s ) .
T h u s Weber b e l i eved h e had fo u n d a g e n e t i c l i n k b e t w e e n religious a n d
e c o n o m i c p h e n o m e n a w h i c h i n t h e e p o c h o f classical l i b e r a l i s m t e n d e d
t o separate i n t o d iscrete i n s t i t u t i o n a l s p h e r e s . i n s t e a d o f e l a b o r a t i n g a
refo r m i s t project in t h e manner of D u r k h e i m , Web er d i s p assionately and
i r o n i cally observed o f the fu ture:
N o o n e knows who will live i n this cage i n the fu t u r e , or whether

at the e n d of this tremendous development entirely new prophets
w i l l arise, o r t h e r e will b e a great rebirth o f o l d i d e a s and i d e a l s ,
or, i f n e i t h e r , m e c h a n i z e d p e t r i fi c a t i o n , e m b e l l i s h e d with a s o r t o f
convulsive self- i m p o rtance. For o f t h e l a s t stage o f t h i s cultural
deve l o p m e n t , i t m i g h t well be truly s a i d : "Specialists w i t h o u t spirit,
sensualists w i t h o u t h e a r t ; this nullity i magines i t has attained a level
of civilization never b e fo re achieve d . " 3 9
From Analysis to Reform
Suicide concluded with proposals for a corporatist reform of m o d e r n

society. I n presenting his plea for corporative groups, Durkheim was sensitive
to the heri tage o f suspicion associated with the i d e a o f corporatism because
of the development o f corp orative organizations in the ancien regime. Cer
t a i nly, the uses to which corpo rative establishments were put under fascism,
after Durkheim's death, have compounded this negative reputation. Yet the
c o n t i n u i n g d i ffi culty i n resolvi n g the problems discussed b y Durkheim,
as well as the emergence of corporative fe atures in all advanced industrial
societies, may b e grounds fo r renewed interest in the specific nature of
D u r k h e i m 's idea o f corporatis m .
Suicide contained Durkheim's most pointed c o n c e p t i o n o f the prob
lematic nature o f modern society, and whatever one may conclude about his
notion of reform, this work will c o n t i n u e to b e remembered fo r its insight
into modern social d i s r u p t i o n and malaise. The modern age, fo r D u rkheim
as for so many thinkers i n the nineteenth century, was an age of transition.
It was a period intervening between an earlier type of integrated society
and a h o p ed-for integrated society of the fu ture. The Division of Labor in
cluded an exploratory a n d i n conclu sive conceptualization o f these types of
integration, and i t concluded with a discussion o f pathological phenomena
i n modern s o c i e ty. Suicide fo cused i n a more explicit and central way on
modern social p a t h o logy. In his key concept o f anomie, D u rkheim tried
to account fo r the severe imbalances, dissociations, and contradictions of
an age o f transition. The concomitant of anomie in the lives of people was
profo u n d , at times traumatic, disorientation - what other social theorists
discussed as alienat i o n . The sociological study of s u i c i d e was fo r Durkheim
a precise way to investigate the disruptive features o f modern life. And his
proposals for reform were based o n the fai t h that modern society would i n
t i m e achieve legitimate order.
In the concluding sections of Suicide, Durkheim remarked that the rise
of synthetic p h i l o s o p h i e s of pessimism was one indication that the current
of social malaise in modern life had passed all b ounds and had attained
a pathological state. In normal states o f soci ety, maxims and sayings that
expressed the n e cessary element of s u ffering i n life were n o t systematized
into a dominant mood or Weltanschauung. They were c o u n terbalanced i n
society and culture by sentiments of a different sort. B u t i n modern soci ety,

pessimism had b e c o m e the basis of philosophical systems, and this devel
o p m e n t was n o t restricted to isolated philosophers like Schopenhauer.
One m u s t also account fo r all those who, under different names,

start out under the influence o f the same spirit. The anarchist, the
aesthete, the mystic, the socialist revolutionary, if they do not despair
of the future, a t least agree with the pessimist in sharing the same
feeling o f hatred or disgust for the s t a t u s quo and the same need
t o destroy o r escape fro m reali ty. Collective melancholy would not
have invaded consciousness t o this point if it had not been subject
t o a morbid develo pment. Consequently, the development o f suicide
which results from i t i s of the same nature.40
The primary intention of D urkheim was t o grasp the over-all nature of the
social system, both in its dominant institutions and the reactions evoked by
them. Only on this basis could a rational conception of reform be elaborated.
Moral issues were uppermost i n D u rkheim's idea of refo r m , but his under
standing of m o rality was a special one related to the reconstruction o f society.
There is no more accurate introduction to h i s conception of reform and i t s
relation t o morality t h a n his own words i n the conclusion t o Suicide.
J u s t as s u i c i d e does n o t proceed fro m m an's diffi c ulties i n life, so

t h e means o f arresting its progress is n o t t o make t h e struggle less
diffi cult and l i fe easier. I f m o r e p e o p l e k i l l themselves today than
fo r m e rly, t h i s is n o t b e c a u s e we m u s t make m o r e p a i n ful efforts to
m a i n t a i n o u rselves o r b e c a u s e o u r l e gi t i m a t e needs are less satis
fi e d ; it i s b e c a u s e we do no t know the l i m i t s o f our legitimate needs
and w e d o n o t perceive the meaning of o u r e ffo rts. I t is i n d e e d
c e r t a i n that at all levels o f the social h i e rarchy, average well-being
has i n creased, although this increase has not always taken place i n
the m o s t e q u i t a b l e p r o p o r t i o n s . T h u s t h e malaise fro m which w e
suffer does n o t come fro m an increase i n t h e n u m b e r and intensity
of obj ective causes o f s u ffering; i t attests, n o t to a greater e c o n o m i c
misery, b u t t o a n a l a r m i n g m o ral m i s e ry.
B u t w e m u s t n o t deceive o u r s e lves a b o u t the meaning o f the
word "moral." When one says o f an individual o r social problem that
i t is entirely moral, one generally means that i t does not respond t o
Chapter 4 Suicide and Solidarity 17.3
any treatment b u t c a n b e cured only through repeated exhortations,

methodical o b j u rgations, i n a word thro ugh verbal action. But i n
r e a l i t y t h e m e n t a l s y s t e m of a p e o p l e i s a system o f defi n i t e fo rces
which cannot be deranged or rearranged through simple injunctions.
I t really corresponds t o t h e way social elements are grouped and
organized. I t i s far fro m t h e truth that, in analyzing as "moral" the
sickness of which the abnormal progress o f s u i c i d e i s the sym p t o m ,
w e i n t e n d t o reduce i t t o s o m e s o r t o f s u p erfi cial illness which can
b e conjured away with s o ft words. O n the c o n t rary, the alteration
o f m o r a l temperament which is thus revealed bears witness to a
profo u n d alteration of o u r s o c i al structure. To heal t h e o n e , i t is
necessary to reform the o th e r . 1 1
Durkheim w a s one of t h e first social thinkers t o see clearly t h e crisis

of legitimacy and m ea n i n g i n m o d ern soci ety. His t h o u g h t indicated an
awareness of the real s u ffering and genuine values distorted i n the ideo
logical reactions o f prophets o f doom. But h e did not advocate a "politics
of cultural despair" based on indiscriminate and destructive criticism of
modernity, romantic nostalgia fo r an idealized past, and utopian visions
of a t o tally integrated and authori tative socie tyY Nor did h e celebrate the
symptoms of excessive disorientation and anomie as the distin ctive marks of
modernity or the recurrent, transhistorical aporias o f Western m e taphysics.
The intent of his proposals for reform was to extricate the valid element in
inchoate and possibly dangerous strivings for community and shared values
and t o embody this valid element i n a substantively rational conception of
reconstruction in modern soci ety.
Notes
1. I ( 1 896- 1 8 97 ) , 404-4 0 5 . The evolution of R i chard's ideas indicated that the

Annee school had its i nternal confl i cts. Richard i n time became one of the
most hostile critics of Durkheim and a source of the idea that his thought
was riddled with unresolved contradictions. The key issue that antagonized
Richard (himself a Protestant) was the increasingly critical edge in Durkheim's
sociology o f religion that came down quite negatively upon Protestantism.
2. Le Suicide (first pub. 1 8 97; Paris: Presses Universitaires d e France, 1 9 6 0 ) , p .
228.
3. Ibid. , p. 3 5 2 .
4. Ibid. , p . 5 .
5. Ibid., p . 4 .
6. "The Sociological Analysis of Social Meanings o f Suicide," A rchives europee
nnes de sociologie, VII ( 1 966), 2 5 9 - 2 6 0 .
7. C f F. Achi l le-Delmas, Psychologie pathologique du suicide (Paris: Alcan,
1 93 3 ) .
8. For the discussion of psychopathology, see Le Suicide, Book I , chap. i .
9. Ibid. , p . 3 1 2 .
1 0. Ibid. , p . 3 3 7 .
11. Paris: Alcan, 1 92 2 , p. 3 . Roger Lacombe's strictures are to b e fo und i n his
La Methode sociologique de Durkheim (Paris: Alcan, 1 92 6 ) , where he dwells
on the point that correlations and statistics are relatively uninteresting i f
in terpretations are not fleshed out and substantiated.
12. Le Suicide, p. 3 2 5 .
13. Man and Society in a n Age ofRecomtruction (New Yo rk: Harcourt, Brace &
Wo rld, 1 94 0 ) , p. 62.
14. Durkheim's assertion that prosperity fostered high suicide rates was challenged
by his disciple Maurice Halbwachs i n his Les Causes du Suicide (Paris: Alcan,
1 93 0 ) . Halbwachs also stressed the need for a clearer conception of the rela
tion of sociology and psychology and criticized Durkheim's tendency to focus
upon one-dimensional correlations of suicide rates with factors abstracted
from society as a whole. This stress on social psychology led Halbwachs to
undertake an important and i n fl uential study of collective memory (por
tions of which have been translated as On Collective Memory, ed., trans . ,
with a n i n tro. by Lewis A. Coser, Chicago: University o f Chi cago Press,
1 99 2 ) . Halbwachs noted the importance of urbanism, which overlapped
with membership in Protestant sects, and proposed that types of civilization
were more i n clusive and historically useful units of analysis. The assertion
that the suicide rate tends to drop with prosperity was further supported by
the statisti cal evidence and its i nterpretation in Andrew F. Henry and James
F. Short, Suicide and Homicide (Glencoe, Illinois: Free Press, 1 954) . The
key question was of course whether prosperity was related to uprootedness
and frustration. If there was no positive correlation between suicide rates
and peaks of a business cycle, there might still be one between suicide and
long-term upward changes in a group's position related to basic processes of
economic transformation. Neither Halbwachs nor Henry and Short addressed
themselves to this broader historical question. The analysis of Henry and
Short, however, had the merit of bringing to the center of analytic attention
the role of stratification, the concept of relative deprivation, and the relation
of the choice of an object of aggression (self o r other) to the situation of the
relevant group. Suicide was generally fo und to b e a response to frustration
among high-status groups, fo r whom a depression had greater impact in
terms of relative loss. lv1oreover, a low-status group might become increasingly
frustrated in the face of prosperity that it did not share. Aggression bred by
frustration in low-status groups, however, fo und an outlet in homicide rather
than sui cide, because the more integrated nature of these groups provided
"love objects" upon whom anxiety and frustration might be projected. I n
Durkheim's terms, anomie led to suicide only when i t was conjoined with
eg01sm.
1 5 . Le Suicide, p. 279. Since the original publication of m y study, much attention
has been devoted to the important problem of Durkheim's questionable
treatment of gender and the way in which it was symptomatic of male anxi
eties about femi nism and "devirilization . " See, for example, Gender and the
Politics ofSocial Reform in France, 1870- 1914, ed. Elinor A. Accampo et al.
(Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1 99 5 ) ; Jennifer lv1. Lehm
ann, Durkheim and Women (Lincoln: University o f Nebraska Press, 1 994);
a n d Janet Hinson Shope, "Separate but Equal: Durkheim's Response t o the
Woman Question," Sociological Inquiry 64 ( 1 994), pp. 23-36. See also the
Cornell University dissertation of Judith Surkis, "Secularization and Sexuality
in Third Republic France , " chap. 3. For a discussion of related problems in
the German context, see the Cornell University dissertation ofTracie l\1atysik,
" Ethics, femi ninity, and Psychoanalysis in Early Twentieth-Century German
Cultures."
1 6 . Ibid., p. 324. In his Education morale (first pub. 1 9 2 5 ; Paris: Presses Univer
sitaires de France, 1 9 6 3 ) , Durkheim continued his attack upon "this dissolv
ing sensation of the infinite" (p. 3 5 ) . Nowhere more than i n his correlation
of anomie and the quest fo r infinity was Durkheim closer to an important
dimension of Greek philosophy.
1 7. Le Suicide, p p . 283-284.
1 8 . Ibid. , pp. 284-287. In psychoanalytic terms, i t may be observed that one case
of anomie involved limitless ego ideals, while fatalism resulted from rigid and
repressive superego demands. One form of anomie suicide may be fruitfully
compared to what Herbert Hendin, in his Suicide and Scandinavia (New
Yo rk: Doubleday Anchor, 1 96 5 ) terms "performance suicide." Of one of his
cases Hendin writes: "His dreams under hypnosis were o f the most elemental
kind. In one instance they revealed him running to catch a boat and j u s t
m i s s i n g it. I n h i s associations 'missing the boat' symbolized the low opinion
which he had o f his entire career. His legal ambitions were excessive and he
fo und i t impossible to compromise with h i s grandiose s u ccess fantasies. The
aggressiveness which stemmed fro m this grandiosity i nterfered with his actual
performance, a constellation frequently observed in patients with extremely
high and rigid standards for themselves. What is seen as fai lure causes an
enormous amount o f self-hatred, and suicide amounts to a self-inflicted
p unishment fo r having failed" ( p . 2 6 ) . Hendin suggestively but somewhat
simplistically attempts to explain the Scandinavian suicide phenomenon of
Sweden and Denmark with high rates but Norway with a low rate by patterns
i n child-rearing and their socio psychological concomitants. His conclusions
may readily be translated into Durkheimian terms. In Sweden, Hendin fo und
a combination of anomie and egoism. L i mitless ends in performance and
achieving were combined with isolation and coldness i n i n terpersonal rela
tions. An expression in Swedish literally means "to kill with silence." I n
Denmark, h e fo und a strongly integrated a n d excessively altruistic family
structure that, with separation upon the children's reaching adulthood, gave
way to uprootedness and feelings of dependency loss. I n No rway, a greater
balance was established, and the verbal expression of emotion functioned as
a sort of safety valve.
1 9. In his classical article "Social Structure and Anomie," Robert K. Merton posed
the problem in terms of a contradiction between limitless cultural values and
limited institutional means of attaining them. This was exemplified for him
in the conflict in the United States between the pursuit of wealth and the
available oppo rtunities open to members of society fo r making "big money."
After being subjected to criticism on the grounds that he was identifYing
normative conflict and anomie, Merton in a rejoinder admitted confusion
in his earlier fo rmulation and argued that structural conflicts might lead to
anomie in the delimi ted sense of normlessness. The original article and the
rejoinder may be found in Social Theory and Social Structure (rev. ed.; Glencoe,
Ill.: Free Press of Glencoe, 1 964), pp. 1 3 1 - 1 94 . Whatever the semantic gain in
this revision, it served to divert attention from the problem of institutional-
ized and ideological anomie which t-.1erton seemed to perceive earlier in the
American desire for "just a little bit more" of the good things i n life regardless
of how much o n e already had. In terms o f Durkheim's fo rmulation, the cases
of normlessness, normative contradiction, and normatively constrained o r
praised limitlessness shared t h e irrational quality of an absence of an institu
tionally grounded sense of !egitimate limits that was essential fo r reciprocity
and solidarity. I t would be interesting to trace the relations between anomie,
egoism, and the stress on aporia and double binds in deconstruction. For
a discussion relevant to this topic, see my History and Reading: Tocqueville,
Foucault, French Studies (Toronto: University o f Toronto Press, 2 0 0 0 ) , esp.
chap. 4. I t would also be o f interest to investigate the relations between
anomie, egoism, and trauma. On this issue, see my Writing History, Writing
Trauma (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2 00 1 ) .
20. Le Suicide, p . 324. Compare Nietzsche o n the relation o f infinite desire to
egoism: "From an infinite horizon he withdraws i n to himself, back into the
small egoistic circle, where he must become dry and withered; he may pos
sibly attain to cleverness but never to wisdom . . . . He i s never enthusiastic,
but blinks his eyes and understands how to look for his own profit or his
party's in the profit o r loss of somebody else" (Friedrich Nietzsche, The [lse
and Abuse ofHistory, Indianapolis and New York: Library of the Liberal Arts,
1 9 57 , p . 6 4 ) .
21. Le Suicide, p . 2 3 0 .
22. P. 4 2 .
23. Le Suicide, p . 3 2 5 . Although Durkheim referred to Chateaubriand, it may b e
observed that a magnificent anatomy o f anomie - indeed a myth o f the times
- was provided by Balzac in Le Peau de chagrin. See also Education morale,
p . 3 5 , where Durkheim refers to Goethe's Faust as the literary personage
who may be viewed as "the i ncarnation par excellence of the sentiment of
the infinite."
2 4 . Le Suicide, p. 326. Here one may refer to the protagonist in Dostoevsky's
Notes From Underground. See my discussion in History, Politics, and the Novel
(Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1 98 7 ) , chap. 2 .
2 5 . Ibid. , p p . 278-279.
26. "La Science positive de Ia morale en Allemagne," Revue philosophique, X X I V
( 1 8 8 7 ) , p. 4 1 . O f major french writers fo llowing Durkhe i m , the one with
basic assumptions closest to his own was probably Albert Camus. A highly
illuminating essay could be written com paring these two figures who are
rarely discussed together. From the initial insight into modern society as one
characterized by anomie and anxiety, through a consideration of the problem
of suicide, to the ultimate affirmation of a normative sense of l i m i t s , these
two thinkers defended the type of conventional wisdom which they believed
had become highly unconventional in the modern world. On Camus, see
my History and Memory after A uschwitz (Ithaca: Cornell University Press,
1 99 8 ) , chap. 3 .
27. Le Suicide, p . 2 3 3 . Compare t h e early Nietzsche o n the need for limiting
horizons: "A living thing can only be healthy, strong and productive within a
certain horizon; if it is i n capable of drawing one around itself, or too selfish
to lose its own view in another's, it will come to an untimely end" ( The Use
and Abuse ofHistory, p. 7 ) .
28. L e Suicide, p . 3 1 1 .
29. Ibid. , pp. 2 5 9 - 2 6 0 .
30. Ibid., p . 2 2 2 .
31. Ibid. , pp. 1 6 9- 1 7 0 .
32. Ibid. , p. 3 1 1 .
33. Elie Cohen, Human Behavior in the Concentratz'on Camp (New York: Norton,
1 9 5 3 ) , p. 1 5 8 .
34. Childhood and Society (New York: Norton, 1 9 5 0 ) , p . 2 3 9 .
35. The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit oJCapitalz'sm (New York: Scribner's , 1 9 5 8 ) ,
p p . 1 04- 1 0 5 .
36. Ibid., p . 2 2 1 , n . 1 6 .
37. Ibid. , p. 36.
38. Ibid. , p. 1 7 .
39. Ibid., p . 1 8 2 .
40. L e Suicide, p . 424.
41 . Ibid. , pp. 444-44 5 .
42 . For an acute analysis o f nihilistic social criticism i n pre-Nazi Germany, see
Fritz Stern, The Politics of Cultural Despair (first pub. 1 9 6 1 ; Garden City.
N.Y.: Doubleday, 1 96 5 ) .
5
Theory and Practice
It is not goodfor man to live on a war footing in the midst ofhis immediate com
panions. This sensation ofgeneral hostility, the mutual defiance which resultsfrom
it, the tension which it necessitates are deplorable states when they are chro nic. If
we love war, we alro love the joys ofpeace. And the latter have all the more value
for men to the extent that they are more profoundly socialized, that is to say (for
the two words are equivalent) more profoundly civilized.
- Preface to t h e second edition of
The Division ofLabor in Society
Economic fmctions are not ends in themselves. They are only means toward an
end and organs ofsocial l(e. Social life is above all a harmonious commu nity of
(forts, a communion ofmindr and wills with a common end. Society has no raison
d' etre (it does not bring men a little peace - peace in their hearts and peace in
their commerce with each other. If industry can be productive only by troubling
this peace and causing war, it is not worth the trouble it costs.
- Professional Ethics and Civic Morals
Sociology, History, and Reform
An intense involve m e n t i n t h e Dreyfus Affair, the t i m e - c o n s u m i n g

p r e p a r a t i o n and editing of t h e Annee sociologique, a growing i n terest i n
r e l i g i o u s sym b o l i s m , and a related concern with e l a b o r a t i n g h i s mystique
laden social p h i l o sophy - all these factors c o m b i n e d to prevent Durkheim
fro m carrying to c o m p l e t i o n two studies in c o m p arative h i s t o ry: a h i s t o r y
of socialism and a h i s t o r y o f corporati s m . It i s i m p o r t a n t t o recognize t h e
i n t i m a t e c o n n e c t i o n b e tw e e n t h e s e t w o unfi nished p r o j e c t s . T h e y were
related b o th to each other and to his idea of necessary structural change
/80 J:rnile Durkheirn: Sociologist and Philosopher
i n m o d e r n s o c i e ty. I n d e e d , they represented the concrete b a s i s fo r h i s

attempted A ujhebung - h i s d i a l e c t i c a l synthesis - of radicalism, con
servatism, and liberalism fo r t h e achievement of "normality" in m o d e r n
s o c i e ty. T h u s i t makes s e n s e to t r e a t a s a u n i t i n t h e development o f h i s
t h o u g h t those w o r k s i n w h i c h h e discussed c o r p o r a t i s m a n d socialism:
the concluding chapter, o n "practical consequences , " in Le Suicide; Le
Socialisme; Lefons de sociologie (translated as Proftssional Ethics and Civic
Morals ) ; LE ducatio n morale; and the i m p o r t a n t preface to the s e c o n d edi
t i o n of De La Division du travail social.
All these works were t h o u g h t o u t i n t h e p e r i o d extending roughly
fro m 1 8 96 to 1 90 2 . This may be c o n s i d e r e d the m i d d l e p e r i o d in the
deve l o p m e n t o f D u r k h e i m's t h o u g h t . Before i t c a m e The Division ofLabor
and The Rules of Sociological Method. The broader a m b i t i o n o f t h e latter
m e t h o d o l o gi c a l treatise was to provide a sociological version o f D escartes's
discourse on m e t h o d . It approached general theory through the u n c e r t a i n
perspective i m p l i c i t i n Durkheim's fi rst major w o r k . From i t s conception o f
s o c i a l facts t o its m e c h a n i s t i c theory of causation, Th e Rules ofSociological
Metho d was t h e e x p l i ci t s t a t e m e n t of t h e m o re a n a l y t i c a l l y d i s s o c i a t e d ,
Cartesianized n e o - K a n t i a n s t r a n d of D u r k h e i m's t h o u g h t . I t p r e s e n t e d
s o c i e ty p r i m a r i l y as a n "obj ectivated" action s y s t e m that s o c i o logists w e r e
t o i nvestigate b y studying discrete, l i n e a r cause-and-effect r e l a t i o n s h i p s .
In t h i s b o o k , D u rkheim t e n d e d to focus o n t h e m o s t obj ectifi ed aspects o f
social lif e, disregarding the p r o b l e m of t h e internalization o f s o c i a l n o r m s
a n d the m e a n i n gful nature o f h u m a n activity. Although o b j e ctivity i n s o
ciology was always his concern, h e s u b s e q u ently m o d i fi e d h i s narrow fo cus
on the "exteriority" and "constraint" of social fa cts and provided greater
insight into the meaning of his fam o u s d i c t u m that social facts should b e
treated like "things." After t h e t u r n o f t h e century, h e was p r e o c c u p i e d
with preparatory s t u d i e s fo r The Elementary Forms and w i t h t h e revis i o n o f
his theoretical a s s u m p t i o n s t o a c c o m m o d a t e h i s m o r e m a t u r e c o n c e p t i o n
o f t h e r e l a t i o n o f t h e o r y to p r a c t i c e a n d o f m e t h o d o l ogy t o p h i l o s o p h y.
H e n c e , the specifics of his n o t i o n of structural change in modern s o c i e ty
are to be found primarily in the works of his m i d d l e p e r i o d .
T h e a r c h i t e c t o n i c goal of D u rkheim's i d e a o f structu ral reform was
s i m p l e b u t a m b i t i o u s : conscious and s u b s tantively r a t i o n al s o c i a l control
o f t h e economy and all forms of particularistic i n terest o r power. T h e el-
Chapter 5 Theory and Practice 181
ementary social units i n h i s proposed reform - corpo rative or occupational

groups - would at some signifi cant level b e small e n o ugh t o provide a
communal, fa ce-to-face m i l i e u fo r their members. B u t the broader scope of
regi o n a l , national, and international exchange in large and highly comp lex
modern societies required more inclusive organization, planning, and social
control. Absolu tely fu ndamental a t all levels was the existence o f a u t o n o
m o u s l y accepted and deeply i nternalized institutional n o r m s w h i c h defi ned
legitimate l i m i t s with respect t o differentiated functions and individual
assert i o n , created t h e necessary conditions fo r reciproci ty, and provided
t h e basic structure fo r decisions i n specific cases and controversies. T h i s ,
i n s t a r k o u t l i n e , was t h e motivating i d e a o f D urkhe im's venture i n cre ative
a n d h i storically i n fo r m e d s o c i a l refo r m , w h i ch he explicitly refu s e d to
d e t a i l in t h e form of an i t e m i z e d b l u e p ri n t . D e s p i t e his fe eling that s o c i a l
a c t i o n involves u n p r e d i c t a b l e turns a n d creative elan, h e d i d give certain
directives for the attainment of social "health" in m o d e r n times.
In a c r i t i cal review o f a work which based i t s analysis o f socialism u p o n
t h e t h o u g h t o f M a r x , D urkheim flatly asserted, "As fo r u s , a l l t h a t is es
s e n t i a l i n s o c i a l i s t d o c t r i n e is fo u n d i n the p h ilosophy of Saint - S i m o n . " 1
This statement might b e taken a s the leitmotif o f L e Socialisme, Durkheim's
only c o m p l e t e d work on the history o f s o c i a l i s m . 2 H e h a d b e g u n h i s study
of socialism i n part because s o m e o f h i s b rightest students were b e i n g won
over to Marxism. Polemical a n i m u s was not totally absent fro m h i s Social
isme. Brief b ut stringent criticism o f Marx was p layed o ff against extensive
and lavish p r a i s e o f S a i n t - S i m o n . M a rx's Cap ital was indeed recognized as
the "strongest work" of socialist t h o u g h t . 3 B u t this accolade was bestowed
almost as a means of damning w i t h fai n t praise. It prefaced an argu m e n t
t h a t Capital lacked convincing sci entifi c p r o o fs a n d s t o o d o u t o n l y b e cause
of the even greater defi ciencies o f other socialist works, j udged fro m a
s c i e n tifi c p o i n t of view. B u t this a t t i t u d e was p a r t of D u rk h e i m's b r o a d e r
c o n c e p t i o n o f s o c i a l i s m as a n i n t e n s e , s y m p t o m a t i c r e s p o n s e and a fervid
i d e o l ogy - "a cry of grief, s o m e t i m e s o f anger, uttered by men w h o fe el
m o s t keenly o u r c o l l ective m a l a i s e . " 4 D e s p i t e the a p p arent element o f rash
generalization in his estimation of socialist literature, D u rkheim's argument
did lead him to conclude that, at least o n a s y m p t o m a t i c level, socialism
had to b e taken s e r i o u sly. S c i e n t i fi c refutation of detailed p o i n ts of socialist
thought was merely a "labor of Penelo p e . " A more d i a l e c ti cally a d e q u a t e
p e r s p ective was needed to discover the causes o f socialist i d e o logy i n society

a n d to a s s i m ilate the elements o f truth s o c i a l i s m c o n t a i n e d .
In certain respects, the thought o f Saint-Simon had a privileged position
fo r Durkheim as an approach to a more adequate perspective. Indeed, he
stated that "aside from Cartesianism, there is nothing more imp ortant in the
entire history of French philoso phy. At more than one point these two phi
losophies can legitimately b e reconciled with one another, for theywere both
inspired b y the same rationalist fai t h . " 5 Thus Saint-Simonism took its place
beside Cartesianism and neo-Kantianism as a constructive force i n shaping
Durkheim's rationalist perspective.
This c o n s i d e r a t i o n helps to s i t u a t e m o r e precisely the influence of
C o m t e on Durkhei m's search fo r th e laws of social l i fe. Durkheim scored
the injustice of Com te's reference to his association with Saint-Simon as a
"morbid liaison in his early youth with a depraved j uggler. "6 According to
Durkheim, Comte clearly owed Saint-Simon much m o r e than he sometimes
acknowledged. But Durkheim admitted that it was no easy task to d iscover
unity or coherence in Saint-Si m on's thought. His work was "a loose series of
papers, i n numerable brochures, plans a n d lists of articles fo reve r o u t l i n e d b u t
never realized . " 7 Durkheim w a s n o t one t o underestimate the importance o f
organization and synthesis i n relation t o o u tb ursts o f genius and beguiling
digressions. I n Socialism h e asserted that the honor o f being the founding
father o f sociology, currently ascribed to Comte, should i n j u stice b e awarded
to Saint-Simon. In a later article, D urkheim repeated the assertion that " i n a
sense all the fundamental ideas of Com te's soci ology may already be found in
Saint-Simon."8 But he added the stricture that the "truly creative act consists
not in throwing out a few beau tiful i d eas which beguile the i n t elligence b u t
i n grasping ideas firmly i n order t o make them fe cund b y placing them i n
contact with things, coordinating them, providing i n i tial proofs i n a manner
that makes ideas b o th logically assimilable and open to verifi cation b y oth
ers. This is what Comte did for social science . . . and it is why he deserves to
be considered its father and why the name s o c i o l ogy which he gave the new
science remains definitive."9
Thus Saint-Simon was the charismatic inspiration for social science,
b u t Comte was its systematic organizer. In his own analysis of Saint-Simon,
Durkheim undoub tedly saw the earlier prophet of Paris through the prism
provided b y the more disciplined thought of Comte. Aside fro m its relation
to his Cartesianized neo-Kantianism, Durkheim's initial emphasis upon the

"exteriori ty" and "constraint" of thinglike "social facts" may have owed a great
deal to the leaden gray social world of C o m te . C o m t e , however, was explicit
i n expressing his penchant for authoritarian h i erarchies and bureaucratic
structures fo r exercising control. His idea of consensus and order has been
fittingly described as a Catholicism without Christianity. Even C o m t e's latter
day openness to the influence of brotherhood and love remained permeated
with idiosyncratic fantasies, and it culminated intellectually i n a "religion of
h u m anity" which was often little more than an individualistic worship of
heroes of the past. D urkh e i m i n creasi ngly m oved away fro m t h i s fra m e of
reference in an attempt to combine institutional constraint with c o m m unal
s e n t i m e n t . This idea of social normality was also th e poi n t of departure i n
h i s interpretation o f religion.
l E C o m te w e n t t o extremes in h i s p o lytechniciens a d m i r a t i o n fo r fo r m a l
rationality a n d b ureaucratic order, S a i n t- S i m o n , i n D u r k h e i m 's o p i n i o n ,
w e n t t o o far t o t h e o p p o s i t e extreme o f r o m a n t i c p a s s i o n a n d spontane i ty.
T h i s j ud g m e n t was in fac t the s o l e b a s i s of t h e c r i t i c i s m of S a i n t- S i m o n i n
D u r k h e i m 's w o r k o n s o c i a l i s m . I n one s t r a n d of h i s argu m e n t , Durkheim
affi r m e d t h e m i n d - b o d y dualism i n uncom p r o m i s i n g fo r m . H i s reaction
to S a i n t - S i mon's insistence o n the e r o t i c aspect of love was to remark that
his predecessor fai led t o a p p r e c i a t e t h e Christian m essage. The pantheistic,
pagan thrust o f Saint-Simon's New Christianity subverted the Christian i d e a
t h a t " t h e divine, b o u n d and a s i f i m p r i s o n e d i n m atter, t e n d s to free itself
to r e t u r n to G o d , from Whom it cam e . " 10 S u c h s e n t i ments, which were
p r o m i n e n t i n D u r k h e i m's social m e taphysic, were stro ngly represented in
the o u t l o o k of the fine jleu r o f r e p u b l i c a n s p i r i t u a l i s t i c p h i l o s o p h ers who
were often D u rk h e i m 's i n t e n d e d a u d i e n c e and reference group.
A second strand o f D u r k h e i m 's argument applied to the fan tasies of
a total l i b e r a t i o n o f t h e e r o t i c that were prevalent a m o n g one group of
S a i n t - S i m o n i a n s . I t also a p p l i e d t o i m ages of c o n s u m e r b l i s s , eulogies of
u n l i m ired e n t r e p r e n e u r i a l d rive, a n d the g e n e r a l i z a t i o n of P r o m e t h e a n
values. I n d e e d , D u r k h e i m argued t h a t the t h o u g h t of S a i n t - S i m o n and
t h e worldly philosophy of t h e i d e o l ogists o f c a p i t a l i s m - the e c o n o m i sts
- were d i ffe r e n t s y mp to m a ti c e x p r e s s i o n s of "the s a m e s o c i a l s t a t e "
and shared "the s a m e s e n s u o u s a n d u t i l i t a r i a n tendency" and the s a m e
"fu n d a m e n t a l p r i n c i p l e . " 1 1 F o r D u rkh e i m , t h i s p r i n c i p l e of endless n e e d
a n d limitless assertion as a d o m i n a n t s o c i a l force was p a t h o g e n i c i n all

i t s m a nifes t a t i o n s , including t h e technocratic and the erotic. I n his basic
c r i t i q u e o f S a i n t - S i m o n , Durkheim i n fact uttered certain strictures that
were to be repeated verbatim i n h i s discussion of anomie i n Suicide. H e
concluded that u l t i m ately Saint-Simon o ffered "as a remedy an aggrava tion
o f the evil. " 12
What were the elements in Saint-Sim on's conception of reform that
Durkheim b elieved were t o be detached fro m their anomie context and
given new meaning in a desirable state of society? In contrast to insistently
egalitarian as well as revolutionary views, D urkheim's very definition of so
cialism depended p rimarily on the perspective o f Saint-Simon: "We denote
as socialist every doctri n e which demands the c o n n e c t i o n of all e c o n o m i c
fu nctions, or of certain among t h e m , which are a t t h e present t i m e d i ffus e
to t h e directing a n d conscious centers of society." 1 3 I n contrast w i t h C o mte,
Saint-Simon did n o t b el i eve that the division of labor necessarily led t o social
disintegration. Saint-Sim on's idea of socialism embodied his conception of
the manner in which organic soli darity among highly differentiated functions
could be generated in modern soci ety.
In accepting this conception of socialism, Durkheim rejected definitions
based on the abolition of private property, collectivism, and the working
class. On the s u b j e c t of property, he o b served that i\1arx himself envisioned
the collective ownership only of the means of production. The basic ques
tion was the relationship of familial inheritance, collective ownership of the
means of production, and individual prop erty. Durkheim's own corporatist
proposals would embody his specific answer to this question. But he noted in
a prefatory manner that criticism of inheritance involved the most complete
and radical affirmation of the right of private property in history. Inheritance
was a vestige of "old familial communism." It had nothing to do with the
achievement or work of the individual. "In order that property may be said
to be truly individual, it is necessary that it b e the work o f the individual
and of h i m a l o n e . " In t h i s sense, "private property is that which begins with
the indivi dual and ends with him." Thus the decline of the importance of
kinship had two institutional consequences that were yet to b e fully realized:
the restriction of private prop erty to the individual who acquired i t and the
creation of a more significant social agency in modern society for the trans
mission of wealth and capital. 14
M o reover, colle ctivism i n general was n o t s p e c i fi c to s o c i a l i s m ; ac

cording to D u r k h e i m , "There has never b e e n a s o c i e t y in w h i c h private
interests have n o t been s u b o rdinated to social ends; fo r this s u b o rdina
tion i s t h e very c o n d i t i o n of all community l i fe . " 1 5 To the charge that
collectivism meant a u t h o r i t a r i a n i s m , D u r k h e i m answered, "If there is
an authoritarian s o c i a l i s m , there is also o n e which i s essenti ally demo
cra t i c. " 1 6 N o r c o u l d exclusive concern for t h e fat e of the working class
b e i d e n tifi ed with socialism. The b etterment o f workers' lives was o n e
g o a l of t h e organ i z a t i o n o f the e c o n o m y, " j u s t a s class war i s only one o f
t h e means b y w h i c h t h i s reorganization c o u l d r e s u l t , o n e a s p e c t of t h e
h i s t o r i c devel o p m e n t p r o d u c i ng i t . " 1 7 S o cialists w e r e c o r r e c t i n arguing
t h a t "there is presently an e n t i re s e g m e n t of the e c o n o m i c world w h i ch is
not truly and d i r e ctly integrated into s o c i e ty. " Members o f the working
class "are not full-fl edged m e m b ers o f s o c i e ty, since they participate i n
t h e c o m m u n i ty's life only through an imposed m e d i u m " - the c a p i t a l i s t
class w h i c h d e p rives workers o f s o ci a l j us t i c e . 1 8 Socialists were a l s o right
in arguing that the legitimate d e m a n d s o f the e x p l o i t e d c o u l d not b e m e t
by w e l fare d o l e s or c h a r i ty. " C h arity o rg a n i zes n o t h i ng . I t m ai n t a i n s t h e
status q u o , i t can only attenuate the i n d ividual s u ffe r i n g that t h i s lack of
organi z a t i o n engenders . " 1 9 Only through structural change that w o u l d
provi d e i ns t i t u t i o n s fo r t h e r e g u l a t i o n o f t h e e c o n o m y a n d a l l groups
involved i n i t , not thro ugh measures restricted to the working class alone,
m i g h t social j u s tice b e created i n m o d e r n s o c i ety.
What was Durkheim's conception of t h e relation of sociology to history
and ethnograp hy, and what were the i m p lications o f the relationship fo r
h i s i d ea of reform in m o d ern s o c i e ty? A general answer to these q u e s t i o n s
is provided b y the d u a l b a s e s o f D ur k h e i m i s m : t h e h y p o t h e t i c a l "tree"
of s o c i a l l i fe and the d i s t i n c t i o n b e tween "normality" and "patho logy."
Durkheim clearly rejected the conception of unilinear evo l u t i o n in C o m te's
fam o u s law of the t h r e e stages:
Whatever Pascal may have said - and Comte mistakenly took u p his
celebrated fo rmula - mankind cannot b e compared to a man w h o ,
having lived through all p a s t centuries, still s u b sists. Rather, humanity
resembles an immense family whose d i fferent branches, which have
increasi ngly diverged fro m o n e ano ther, have b e c o m e l ittle by little
detached fro m the common trunk to live their own lives. Besides,
what assurance i s there that this common t r u n k ever existed?20
In his guiding model of the tree of sociocultural lif e, Durkheim combined

a fl exible theory of the transhistorical with a notion o f different "social species"
or types. H i s conception of the common trunk and its relation to "primi tive"
societies owed much to Rousseau. His idea of typological branches and its rela
tion to history derived in large part from Saint-Simon. H e was also indebted
to Saint-Simon i n his specific conception o f modern history, as well as in his
more comprehensive ideas of social n o r m a l i ty and pathology. Aside from the
influence of earlier social theorists, this chapter of D u rkheim's thought was
of course also permeated with b i ological analogies, at times with confusing
results. On the whole, however, D urkheim recognized the limitations as well
as the value of the "organismic" metaphor.
The trunk of the tree of social life represented the elementary conditions
or "fu nctional prereq u i s i t e s" of society. They were approximated in the most
clear and distinct fo rm i n "primi tive" societies. And at times Durkheim, with
some misgiving, converted his logical model into an evo l utionary timetable
b y arguing that the "common trunk" was indeed p resent in its pure fo rm in
"totemic society." The more general methodological point was that "primi tive"
societies in their relative simplicity presented privileged cases fo r "crucial
experiments" which attempted to deduce the transhistorical bases of society
and culture.
In this respect, D u rkheim und erwent a significant change o f o p i n i o n . H i s
early thought, e . g . , i n The Rules ofSociological Method, tended t o denigrate
the importance of ethnography in comparison with histori ography.2 1 Under
the combined impact of better ethnographic research i n the field and a shift
in theoretical and philosophical focus, his later thought made ethnography
t h e anchor p o i n t of general socio logy (or, in t h e sense of Levi-Strauss, of
anthropology). In The Elementary Forms, Durkheim chided historians fo r
ignoring the theoretical importance of ethnographic material for an under
standing o f the transhistorical bases of society that the objects of historical
research would reveal in different manifestations.22 One of the examples he
was fo n d o f citing was the relation of Polynesian taboo to Roman sacer - a
p o i n t which Marc Bloch would develop in his study of royal rituals of heal
ing, Les Rois thaumaturges.
B u t D u r k h e i m never lost interest in the relation of so ciology to h i s t o r y

a n d its i m p o rtance fo r t h e defi nition o f s o c i a l t y p e s . A n d t h i s i n t e r e s t was
especially marked in the works of h i s m i d d l e p e ri o d . The p r o b l e m of the
r e l a t i o n of h i s t o r y t o s o c i o logy gave rise, in D u r k h e i m's France, to disci
plinary s q u a b b l e s and i m p e r i a l i s t i c p o s t u r i n g t h a t a c c o r d e d i l l with his
idea of "organic solidarity." H owever i m p o rt a n t t h e s e debates may h ave
b e e n for the p l a y of p e r s o n a l i ty, t h e defi n i t i o n of fi elds o f c o m p e t e n c e ,
c o m p e t i tive professional c l a i m s t o i n s t i t u t i o n al a u t o n o m y a n d a u t h o r i t y
o v e r o b j e ct s o f d i s c o u r s e a n d p ra c t i c e , and t h e h i s t o r i c a l d e ve l o p m e n t o f
t h e d i s c i p l i n e s , t h e i r i n t e l l e c t u a l fo u n d a t i o n w a s o ften m i n i m a l Y
I n d e e d , i t i s s i g n i fi c a n t t h a t t h e d e b a t e over h i s t o r i c i s m never r e a c h e d
i n F r a n c e t h e h e i ghts o f i n t ensity a n d divisiveness t h a t i t d i d i n G e r m a n y.
O n e obvious reason was t h a t h i s t o r i c i s m h a d n o t m a d e as great an i m p a c t
i n F r a n c e a n d , therefo r e , d i d n o t fo r m as i m p o s i n g a n o b s t a c l e t o think
ers m o r e c o n c e r n e d with m o d e s o f e x p e r i e n c e o r i e n t e d t o t h e p r e s e n t o r
fu t u r e . I n F r a n c e , realism i n the novel h a d , i n the works o f s u c h fi gures
as B a l z a c , a p p l i e d t o c o n t e m p o r a r y r e a l i t i e s p r i n c i p l e s of u n d e rs t a n d i n g
t h a t , i n G e r m a n y, h ad b e en largely r e s t r i c t e d to a n a p p r e c i a t i o n of t h e
p a s t . And i n s o m e o n e like B a l z a c t h e r e s u l t was a v i s i o n a r y realism t h a t
w a s s e n s i tive t o t h e r o l e o f sym b o l and m y t h i n c u l t u r e . Realism i n t h e
novel d e c l i n e d t o w a r d t h e e n d o f t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n tu r y. To s o m e extent,
D u r k h e i m i a n s o c i o l o gy, i n i t s a t t e m p t t o p e n e t r a t e c o n t e m p o rary social
r e a l i t i e s , m a y b e s e e n as t h e h e i r o f the r e a l i s t i c novel. It is, h owever,
t r u e that D u rk h e i m's early t h o u g h t s h a r e d fe atures o f n a t u r a l i s m , while
his l a t e r t h o u g h t conceived v a l u e s a n d s y m b o l s i n a m a n n e r r e m i n i s c e n t
o f sym b o l i s m . To t h i s e x t e n t , t h e develo p m e n t of his t h o u g h t p a r a l l e l e d
t h e d i v i s i o n o f l i t e r a t u r e i n t o n a t u r a l i s t i c and s y m b o l i s t t e n d e n c i e s . B u t
o n i t s m o r e d i a l e c t i c a l o r r e l a t i o n a l s i d e , D ur k h e im's t h o u g h t r e t a i n e d
the i n t e n t i o n to b e fo u n d i n the v i s i o n a r y r e a l i s m o f a B a l z a c . And i t
d i d t h i s i n a m a n n e r t h a t i n d i c a t e d n o t only a n i n creasing awareness o f
t h e r o l e of a ffect a n d m y t h i n s o c i e t y b u t a l s o s o m e s e n s i t i v i t y t o t h e
p r o b l e m o f i n t e g r a t i n g a c o n c e p t i o n o f m o d e r n s o c i e ty w i t h a n u n d er
s t a n d i n g o f h i s t o r i c a l develo p m e n t . T h e goal of a c o m p rehensive o r even
t o t a l i z i n g s o c i a l h i s t o r y was a feature of the D u r k h e i m i a n h e r i t age to b e
preserved a n d develo p e d b y the A n nales s c h o o l under 1 a r c B l o c h a n d
L u c i e n Febvre.
O n a t h e o r e t i c a l level, Durkheim c o nceived the b a s i c r e l a t i o n s h i p

b e tween h i s t o r y and s o c i o l o gy to b e o n e o f i n te r d i s c i p l i n a r y c o o pera
tion in the d e fi n i t i o n o f signifi cant p r o b l e m s . He observed that s t u d i e s
d e a l i n g w i t h s o c i a l p h e n o m e n a presented a strange d i c h o t o my. O n one
s i d e , there was "a rather inchoate multitude o f sciences or quasi-sciences
which had t h e s a m e o b j e c t but were ignorant of their kinship and the
p r o fo un d unity of t h e facts they studied, o ften only vaguely sensing t h e i r
rationality." On the other s i d e was sociology, " w h i c h was aware of t h i s
unity b ut which g l i d e d t o o high above t h e facts to h ave a n y effe c t u p o n
t h e way i n which they were s t u d i e d . " T h u s t h e m o s t urgent refo r m was
"to make the s o c i o logical idea descend into the special t e c h n i q u e s and in
t h a t way t r a n s fo r m t h e m i n t o real s o c i a l s c i e n c e s . " O n l y in t h i s way c o u l d
sociology become m o r e t h a n an "abstract metaphysic s , " and t h e works o f
specialists m o r e t h a n "monographs w i t h o u t e i t h e r l i n k s t o one a n o t h e r
o r explanatory val u e . " 24
M e t h o d ologi cally, traditional histo riography approached the s t u d y o f
society through a narrat i ve of events a n d t h e lives o f individuals. W i t h o u t
a t h e o retical c o m p l e m e n t , n a rrative w a s n o t e x p l a n ato ry, because it d i d n o t
address itself t o t h e p r o b l e m o f c o m p a r i s o n . " Hi s t o r y makes a l l c o m p a r i
sons i m p o s s i b l e , because i t arranges fa cts i n l i n e a r s e r i e s a n d o n d i fferent
levels. Preoccupied w i t h distinguishing phenomena fro m o n e another and
marking the place of each in time, the historian loses sight o f similarities."25
The recounting of a series of disparate facts d i d not c o n s t i t u t e a logical
ordering p r i n c i p l e . For chronology was, as a rule, merely a more fam i l i a r
fo rm o f c h a o s . H e r e D u r k h e i m did n o t address t h e specific k i n d o f order
attributed o r i m p a r t e d t o fa cts t h r o u g h va r i e t i e s o f narrative w h i c h could
not be reduced t o c h r o n o l ogy alone. His m o r e social-scientifi c idea of
order would also be shared b y those affi l i a t e d w i t h the Amzales which
would confront the p o s s i b i l i t i e s o f narrative only l o n g after D u rk h e i m's
d e a t h . Durkheim's p o i n t was, however, well taken insofar as an argument
o r evalua tive o ri e n t a t i o n e m b e d d e d i n a c o n v e n t i o n a l n a rrative is n o t
c r i t i cally o p e n fo r inspection a n d d e b a t e and m u s t b e extricated and m o r e
explici tly fo rmulated t o b e a n o b j e c t o f cognitively and e t h i c o p o l i tically
responsible investigat i o n .
T h e comp arative m e t h o d was fo r Durkheim t h e laboratory of a more
analytic, explanato ry, and norm atively explicit approach to the s t u d y o f
soci ety, fo r i t represented the social scientist's analogue of experimentation:

"Claude Bernard remarked long ago that the essence of experimentation
is not the operator's ability to produce phenomena artifici ally. Artifice is
only one means whose goal i s t o place t h e fac t under study i n different
circumstances and to see i t in d i fferent fo rms so that relevant comparisons
may b e m a d e . " 2 6 But Durkheim was especially wary of the fo rmalistic
temptations o f an analytic and model-building sociology. In a direct criti
cism of Spencer and C o m t e , h e remarked that the sociologist's "excessively
general interpretations are impotent in contact with the facts" and that this
impotence had "in part produced the distrust that history has often fel t
fo r sociology. " 2 7 H e also explicitly rejected Georg Simm el's conception o f
sociology a s t h e elaboration of ideal-typical constructs ( e . g . , fo r m s of c o m
munity, differentiation, domination, stratificati o n , a n d conflict). Du rkheim
recognized that a science had to be fo rmed on the basis o f abstract ideas and
analytic distinctions. But h e insisted: "It i s necessary that abstractions be
methodically elaborated and that they divide facts according t o their natural
articulations. Otherwise abstractions degenerate into i m aginary constructs
a n d a vain mythology. " 28
Methodo logica lly, these ideas often relied on a very con servative if n o t
naive epistemology. B u t they also led t o a focus o n institutions and t o a
desire fo r a close working relationship with history. "Institutions have to
exterior i n c i d e n ts the same relationship as the mode and func tioning of
organs i n the individual have to the various actions which fill our daily
lives. Only through an institutional fo c u s can history cease t o be a narrative
study and o p e n itself to scientific analysi s . " Events like "wars, peace trea
ties, intrigues o f courts o r assemblies, or the acts of statesmen" seemed to
follow no definite laws. In any event, " i f these laws exist, they are the m o s t
difficult to discover." O n t h e o t h e r h a n d , " i n s t i t u t i o n s - while of course
evolving - conserve their essential traits during long periods of time and
sometimes during an entire collective existence, because they express what
is most profo u n d l y c o n s t itutive o f any social o rganiz a t i o n . " I nstitutions
also presented "striking similarities" in different societies. "Thus typologies
b e c o m e possible and compara tive history is b o r n . "29
Hence sociology was in essence a comparative study of the genesis, struc
ture, and functioning of institutions. To the list i n this definition, the later
Durkheim would undoub tedly have added the problem of the relation of
institutions to beliefs, values, and i deologies. Referring to his own professor

of history, for whom this problem was a central issue, Durkheim ob served in
the preface to the first volume of the Annee socio!ogique:
History can be a science only to the extent that i t explains, and expla
nation cannot proceed except through comparison. Otherwise, even
simple description is hardly possible; one cannot adequately describe
a unique fact, o r a fact of which one has only rare instances, because
o n e does not see i t adequately . . . . Fustel de Coulanges was fo n d of
repeating that true sociology i s history: nothing is more incon testable,
provided t h a t history is carried o n sociologi cal ly.30
Sociology, as Durkheim once p u t i t , was like the grammar of historyY

C hanging the m e t a p hor, h e observed that history played, " i n the realm
of social realities, a role analogous to that of the microscope in the study
of nature."32 In a n important review of works by Gaetano Salvemini and
Benedetto Croce, Durkheim argued that history as a "nomothetic" (law
seeking) science and history as an " i d i ographic" ( particularizing) art were
"destined to b e c o m e inseparab l e . " There was no opposition or paralyzing
antinomy b e tween them, b u t "only differences of degre e . " S cientifi c hist ory,
or sociology, could n o t do w i t h o u t the "direct observation of concrete facts."
And history had to become informed by the general principles of sociol
ogy. All history required selection among fac ts, and this, in turn, implied
the use o f criteria that m a d e c o m p arison possible. "In reality, " Durkheim
concluded, " t h ere are n o t two d i s t i n ct disciplines but two d i ffe rent p o i n t s
of view which, far fro m excluding o n e another, presuppose o n e another."33
Except fo r his insistence on cooperation, Durkheim did not address the
problem of institutional implications of this observation for the organization
of disciplines in the university.
We have already had reason to n o t e that D u rkheim's actual practice a t
t i m e s diverged fro m t h e theoretical position indi cated above. P e r h a p s the one
work i n which his analysis both came closest to the history of the historians
a n d made an informative use o f narrative was his Evolution p t!dagogique en
France.34 This work was restricted to the development o f education i n France.
But it clearly was based on broad "comparative" knowledge of different social
systems. Its fo cus was t h e development of ideologies of education in the
context of t h e evolution of institutions. The result was a remarkable social
history o f i d e as that revealed a sense of illuminating detail and a sensitivity

to the complexity o f social life often absent in D urkheim's more famous
works. Indeed, t h e highest accolade o n e c a n bestow u p o n t h i s s t u d y i s a
criterion of all good history: its argument belies s u m m ary.
How were Durkheim's methodological views related to evaluation and
refo r m ? D u rkheim apparently did not believe that the historical process
as a whole had a m e a n ingful plot or structure. H e did not, for example,
subscribe to H egel's t h e o d i cy of h i s t o ry. History did not have a meaning.
But people in society participated in the creation o f at least limited mean
ing, which existed i n a tense dialectic with anomie fo rces. At least by
implication, Durkheim seemed t o envisage the histor ical p r o cess as o n e of
o s c i l l a t i o n between varying states of order and c h a o s - t h e "organic" a n d
"critical" periods o f Saint-Simon.
Yet Durkhei m's i d e a of the relation of c o n s c i o u s human action t o this
process was never clearly stated. His evolutionary optimism seemed t o imply
that there was an impersonal o r unconscious process that effected, over time,
a development o f society i n the direction of int egration and viable order.
Most often, h is tendency in h i s t o rical a n alysis was to d e - e m p h asize t h e role
of intentional action in attempts to s h a p e meaningful fo rms of existence.
At times he did attri b u t e some weight to individual deviance o r exceptional
p erformance as a force fo r social change. For example, he presented great
philosophers, like Socrates, as individuals who crystallized with heightened
perceptiveness the tendencies o f an age and acted as heralds o f the fut u r e .
B u t he certainly rejected a "great man" interpretation o f history. And gener
ally he insisted in extreme fas hion o n the role of impersonal processes and
institutional forces in a history devoid of proper names.
O n e problem was t h a t D u rkheim proved unable to integrate fully, o r at
least to relate intelligi b l y, a m e t h o d o logy geared t o causal analysis and o n e
sensi tive to meanings. The q u e s t i o n of m e a n i n g a n d i t s l i m i t s w o u l d have
required closer attention to the role of concrete agents in history, b o th as
i n d i v i duals and in groups. I n h i s later e m p h as i s on i n ternalized values a n d
"collective representations," Durkheim recognized t h e i m p o rtance o f the
perception and ideo logical interpretation o f social and cultural phenomena.
B u t h e never worked out an adequate notion of the dialectical relation of
these factors to impersonal processes and long-term structural causation. H i s
only a t t e m p t t o a c c o u n t for t h e genesis o f " collective representations" was
the vague i d e a that they somehow emerged fro m the "collective substratum"
before attaining a relative autonomy i n entering into combinations with one
another. 3 5 This i d e a amounted at best t o a r e fo r m u l a t i o n of the n o t i o n that
social existence preceded social consciousness - a reformulation which was
vaguer than the 1arxist variant, since it d i d n o t contain even a rudimen
t a r y theory of the fo r m a t i o n o f ideologies. D u rkheim would have gained
much fro m closer attention to the c o n t e m p orary German con troversy over
methods (Methodenstreit) , fro m which Max Weber benefi ted so greatly.
D urkhei m's d o m i n a n t p o s i t i o n was well expressed in an exchange
with the historian Charles Seignobos. Seignobos himself took an extreme
Rankean p o s i t i o n o n the i m p o rtance o f individual will in history a n d of
eyew i t n ess reports i n h i stori ograp hy. D u r k h e i m asserted:
The question i s t o know i f i n history o n e can really admit only

c o n s c i o u s c a u s e s , t h o s e w h i c h m e n t h e m selves a t t r i b u t e t o t h e
events a n d a c t i o n s of w h i c h t h ey a r e agents . . . . I t is n o t a question
of events but o f inner m o tives which could have determined these
events. H o w m a y one know these motives? There are only t w o pos
sible procedures. Either o n e tries to discover them objectively by
a n experimental method: neither the agents nor t h e witnesses of
the events were able to d o t h i s . O r one tries t o arrive a t t h e m by
an inner method of i n t r o s p e c t i o n . . . . Now everyo n e knows how
m u c h consciousness is full o f i l l u s i o n s . For a long time, there has
n o t been a psychologist who b e l i eves introspection can reach to
profo u n d causes. Every causal relation is unconscious, and i t must
b e found after the event; b y i n trospection o n e arrives only at facts
b u t never at causes.36
O n the basis of this comment, one might have expected D u rkheim to

pay more sustained attention to the problem of collective psychology in
other than the c o m m o n-sensical terms on which he often relied. I have
already mentioned this deficit in his thought. His n o t i o n of an unconscious
remained inertly structural and largely unrelated to such processes as re
p r e s s i o n , denial, and displacement. And he did n o t work o u t a concept
o f s u b l i m a t i o n which would seem required fo r his understanding o f the
elaborat i o n and internalization of desired and desirable norms and values.
Another difficulty generated b y h i s a p p r o a c h i s that it seemed to leave his
calls to action i n the present suspended i n mid-air, fo r i t o ffered little b asis

for existential c o m m i t m e n t to a coll ective p r o j e c t . B u t in his conception
of social a c t i o n in m o d e r n society, D urkheim d i d seem to s e e a signifi cant
role for m o tivated inquiry into the causes of disorientation and conscious
attempts t o c o n ceive and implement desirable change. A constant theme
of his thought was that a historically informed s o c i o l ogy would give people
s o m e measure o f control over the historical process. H o w d i d a soci ological
consciousness offer this possibility?
C o m b i n e d w i t h the "crucial e x p e r i m e n t , " c o m p a r ative history was
a m e a n s of arriving at a n o t i o n of the t r e e of social life. Ethnogra phy,
when s u b j e c t e d to theoretical e l a b o r a t i o n , was especi ally i m p o r t a n t fo r
t h e deve l o p m e n t of an idea of t h e t r a n s h i s t o r i c a l b ases o f c u l t u r e and
s o c i ety. C o m parative history illustrated and tested t h e results o f t h i s theo
retical elaboration. M o r e specifi cally, i t m a d e possible the delineation o f
s o c i a l types o r "species" a n d furnished t e s t cases o f ways i n w h i c h types
of s o c i a l structure fun c t i o n e d in n o r m a l or p a t h ological ways. Relevant
c o m p a r i s o n also i l l u m i n a t e d genetic processes o f " b e c o m i n g , " thereby
providing know ledge of trends i n various social s i t u a t i o n s . In accordance
w i t h C o m te's dictum "Sa voir pour prevoir; prevoir p o u r pouvoir" ( " Know
in order to fo resee; foresee in order to b e able t o contro l " ) , knowledge
offered effective insight into the dangers and p o s s i b i l i t i e s of alternative
courses o f social a c t i o n .
A s i d e from i n c o r p o rating b i ological analogies falling s o m e w h e r e b e
tween Darwin and Lamarck, D u rkhei m's c o n c e p t s of normality and pathol
ogy were m o r e s o p h i s t i c a t e d versions o f S a i n t - S i m o n's i d e a of organic and
critical p e r i o d s i n histo ry. Like S a i n t - S i m o n , D u r k h e i m beli eved modern
s o c i e t y to b e , i n signifi cant ways, pathological. H e discussed at l e n g t h a n d
w i t h a p p a r e n t agre ement S a i n t - S i m on's m o d e l o f evo l u t i o n i n Western
E u r o p e in terms of a growing confl ict b e tween a religio-military and a
scientific-industrial type of soci ety. In France, this had c u l m i n a t e d i n the
great Revo l u t i o n , wh ose nature, causati o n , a n d consequences Durkheim
saw i n a basically S a i n t - S i m o n i a n way:
A two-fold need gave rise to it: the need to b e extricated from the
past and the need to organize the present. The Revolution met only
the first of these needs. I t succeeded in striking the final blows at the
old system. It abolished all that remained of feudalism - even royal

authority - and all that survived fro m the old temporal power. But
on the land thus cleared, the Revolution built nothing new. It asserted
that o n e was no longer obliged to accept t h e old beli efs but did not
attempt to elaborate a new body o f rational beliefs that all minds
could accept. -' 7
The Revo l u t i o n had destroyed the old order, b u t it miscarried in the

creation of t h e new. It gave b i r t h t o the highest ideals o f modern s o c i e ty,
b u t i t d i d n o t specify and establish these ideals in institu tions and rational
b e l i efs. At the start of t h e nineteenth century, aft e r the Revolu t i o n h ad
run its course, the basic problem of a new social order was presented i n
the same terms as i n 1 7 8 9 . Only the p r o b l e m h a d b e c o m e more urgent. A
stabilized revolutionary settlement was, for Durkheim, necessary " i f one
does n o t w i s h t o s e e e a c h crisis p r o d u c e another, exasperation the chronic
state of soci ety, and fin ally, disintegration m ore or less the result." This
was the way in which Saint-Simon had posed the social question, and fo r
Durkheim i t could n o t " b e p o s e d with greater profu n d i ty. "3 8
Durkheim's later t h o u g h t frequently revealed t h e infl u ence of B ergson's
i d e a s of creative evo l u t i o n and elan vital. By means of these conceptions,
h e was able t o i ntegrate some of the Prometheanism o f Saint-Simon i n t o
his perspective. T h u s h e stressed m o re o ften t h e creative s i d e o f a n o m i e
a n d its relation t o newer c u l t u r a l possibilities. T h i s tendency can b e fo und
in The Elemen tary Fo r m s notably in its conception o f the generative role
,
o f collective effervescence. It is also evident i n the only completed s e c t i o n

o f h i s projected magnum op us " L a M o r a l e " :
Life, a l l lif e, is r i c h with an infi nite n u m b e r o f seeds o f every varie ty,

of which s o m e are a t present developed and correspond especially
to t h e present exigencies o f t h e m i l i e u b u t o f which many are dor
mant, t e m p o rarily unused, and u n d evelo p e d . These will p e r h a p s
b e awakened t o m orrow under new circumstances. All life is change
and is refactory to static states. A living b e i n g is n o t made for a
single e n d ; i t may lend itself t o very d i ffer e n t ends and to m u l t i p l e
s i t u a t i o n s . . . . S o m u ch t h e m o r e i s t h i s t r u e o f h u m a n n a t u r e : his
tory is not only the natural framework of human life; man is a
p r o d u c t of h i s tory. 39
I n his Evolution p edagogique, D u rkheim insisted that i t was i m p o s s i b l e

a t a n y given m o m e n t t o d r a w u p a b l u e p r i n t o f h u m a n n a t u r e :
F o r the wealth o f p a s t p r o d u c t i o n does n o t i n t h e l e a s t a u t h o r i z e us

to assign a l i m i t to the production o f the future o r t o think that a d a y
will e v e r c o m e when m a n , h a v i n g reached t h e e n d of h i s creation,
will be condemned t o repeat himself p e r p e t u ally. Thus one arrives
at a c o n c e p t i o n of m a n , n o t as a system of defi nite e l e m e n ts which
may be n u m b e r e d , but as an infinitely fl ex i b l e and versatile fo rce
capable of taking on the m o s t diverse aspects under the pressure o f
ever renewed circumstances.40
Thus D urkheim arrived at a very fl exible idea of the hypothetical

t r u n k of the tree of social life: i t represented a n u n l i m i t e d set o f c u l t u r a l
p o s s i b i l i t i e s . E a c h t y p e of society w o u l d realize a limited s u b s e t o f t h e s e
p o s s i b i l i t i e s i n normal o r pathological form. Although c u l t u r a l possibilities
were unlimited i n theory, any combination of them i n a normal state o f
s o c i e t y w o u l d i t s e l f b e l i m i t e d and w o u l d instill i n m e m b e rs o f society a
normative sense of l i m i t s leavened only by a creative margin of a n o m i e .
Especially significant i n L'Evolution p edagogique was Durkhei m's conception
of t h e M i d d l e Ages. F o r Saint-Simon, o f course, t h e sociol ogical int erest of
the m e d i eval period was its achievement of one p o s s i b l e fo rm of organic
integrati o n . Although Durkheim never fully adhered t o an i d e alized view
of the Middle Ages, he d i d present i t as a period based on a tense and
creative balance b e tween fai t h and reason, s p o ntaneity a n d i n s t i t u t i o n ally
grounded constraint. There was for D urkheim "something exciting and
dramatic" in the spectacle o ffe red by "this tormented epoch tossed b e tween
respect for t r a d i t i o n a n d the call o f free e n q u i ry." T h i s p e r i o d was fa r from
b e i n g "plunged i n a s o r t of q u i e t u d e and intellectual t o r p o r . " It was in fact
" i n t e r nally d i v i d e d and drawn in contradictory directions." D u rkhei m's
reaction to t h i s state of affairs may c o m e as a surprise to those who have
presented h i m as the rigid, if n o t a u t h o ritarian, c h a m p i o n of Cartesian
constraint, fo rmal rationality, and still-life order i n s o c i ety.
T h i s i s o n e of the m o m e n t s when t h e h u m a n s p i r i t was m o s t full of

effervescence and creative of new things . . . . Men had n o t yet tried
to separate these two inseparable aspects of human life [ i . e . , fai t h
and reason] . M e n had n o t yet undertaken the canalization and t h e

damming u p o f t h e s e t w o great i n t e l l e c t u a l and m o r a l currents i n
a v a i n attempt t o p r e v e n t t h e m fro m m e e ting! H o w m u c h more
living was t h i s g e n e r a l and t u m u l t u o u s m e lee of all ideas and a l l
sentiments than the artifi cial and a p p a rent calm o f t h e centuries
which fo llowed! . . . We must indeed m o d i fy our national h u m or.
We m u s t again fi nd the taste fo r fre e and varied life w i t h all the
accidents and irregularities it i m p l i e s . 4 1
Images o f organic growth a n d relatively slow evolution a p p l i e d only

t o development within a normal state o f society or organic p e ri o d . The
creation of normality in m o d ernity was a c o l l e c t i ve p ro j e c t . And even
w i t h i n the normal state, society was not a static o b j e c t b u t a living whole
that overcame generalized anomie through a tense, dynamic balance of
the essential elements of social " h e a l t h . " D urkheim o p p o s e d neither the
study of history nor the vi tal element of creative change i n social life. H i s
polemical a n i m u s was reserved fo r pathology i n t h e sense of generalized
anomie, excess, and runaway change; and it i m p l i e d a repudiation of the
type of " h i storicism" which legi t i m a t e d anomie or i t s concomitants in a
"transitional" p e r i o d of uncontrolled change. Thus Durkheim observed o f
his interest i n social structure:
This branch o f sociology is n o t a science of the p u rely static. For

t h i s reason, we deem i t improper to adopt this term [of C o m t e ] ,
which expresses p o orly the p o i n t of view fro m which society ought
to be considered. I t is not a q u e s t i o n , as has s o m e t i m e s been s a i d
[ b y J o h n Stuart Mill, following C o m t e ] , o f considering s o c i e t y at a
given moment, i m m o b ilized by an abstraction, b u t on the contrary,
of analyzing its fo rmation and accounting for i t . No d o u b t the phe
nomena that have to do with structure have s o m e t h i n g more stable
about them than h ave functional phenomena. B u t b e tween these
two orders of f act there are only differences of degree. S t r u cture itself
is encountered in becoming [le devenir] , and one can i l l u m i n a t e i t
only i f one does n o t lose sight o f the process o f becomi ng. Structure
is formed and disi ntegrated continu ally. I t is life that has arrived
at a certain degree of consolidation. To distinguish i t fro m the life
fro m which i t derives or fro m the life which i t determines w o u l d
a m o u n t t o dissociating i n s e p a r a b l e thingsY
In his Moral Education , Durkheim returned to his conceptiOn of the

state o f modern society with a renewed sense of urgency: "We are a t present
passing through a critical period. Indeed there is not in history a crisis as
grave as that of European societies during the past century."43 I n Socialism,
Durkheim remarked upon t h e significant relationship among the rise of
sociology, socialism, and religious revival in modern society. Along with
other later works, Th e Elementary Forms o ffered insight into the role of this
relationship i n D urkheim's own thought, and it revealed a sense in which
revolutionary turmoil harbored a positive component and a guide to the
creation o f social health. For The Elementa ry Fo rms contained a striking
parallel b e tween social revo lution and t h e origins o f collective life, which fo r
Durkheim were c o i n c i d e n t w i t h th e genesis of religi o n . Revo l u t i o n appar
ently involved, in his m i n d , a return to the p r i mordial passage fro m nature
to culture i n the m o d i fi e d form of a transition fro m one type of society to
another. And the secular was implicated in more or less unconsci ous dis
placements of the religi o u s . Indeed there was a sense in which a revolution
was a return to the origins o f soci ety, a kind of origin ary, sacralizing, primal
leap fro m one social type to a n o ther. And the very values and ideals t h a t
served as guides t o future action were generated i n liminal, revolutionary
epochs o f "collective effervesce n c e . " "Coll ective effervescence" itself meant,
for Durkheim, not a m anifestation of crowd psychology i n general, b u t a
spontaneous, sacralizing elan vital o p e n to communitas and the q u asi-reli
gious possibilities i n social lif e. (These possibilities included, as they did in
the French Revolution, displaced religious or secularized fo rces that might
take instituti onally anti-clerical fo r m . ) As he put i t in an i m p ortant article,
the revolutionary apogee of the critical period was evangelical, in t h e ety
mological sense of the word:
Life is lived with such i n t e nsity and with s u c h abandon t h a t it fills

consciousness and clears i t almost completely of egoistic and vulgar
preoccupations. The ideal tends to become one with reality; this is
why men have the impression that the time i s a t hand when it will
become reality and when the kingdom of G o d will be realized on
earth.44
But life at this millennia! pitch of quasi-religious intensity could not be

continued a s the basis of a stable, ongoing social system:
T h e illusion is never durable b ecause this exaltation cannot last: i t is

t o o exhausting. Once the critical moment has passed, t h e social fab r i c
loosens u p , i ntellectual and sentimental commerce slows d o w n , and
in dividuals fal l to their ordinary level. Then everyth i n g which was
said, d o n e , and felt d u ring the period offecund torment survives only
in the form of a memory - a prestigious m e m o r y to be sure, like the
reality it recalls, but with which it is no longer confo u n d e d . 4 5
T h e truly successful revo l u t i o n , according to D u r k h e i m , was o n e that

gave b i r t h in t i m e to a " n o r m a l " society. T h e normal society wou l d e m b o d y
a twofold rhythm of collective life i n w h i c h ordinary, day-to-day activities
that contaminated ideals with utilitarian concerns and self-interest w o u l d
alternate with s p e c i a l s y m b o l i c activities. I n these c o m m u n a l a n d festive
activities, the "prestigious memory" and extraordinary intensity of value
creating revolutionary times w o u l d b e revived. These "ritual" activities
would themselves reinvigorate norms and sym b o l s b y giving them a sense
of i m m ediacy in the experience of m e m b e rs of soci ety and b y generating a
living fo rce which could be carried into the daily round. Through ritual, the
values created during the "great times" o f the past would become available
as a source of renewal for l i fe in the present. Most i m p o rtant, perhaps, the
commu nitas - the communal i d e n ti t y among equals - approximated in
liminal events like revolution would, to s o m e viable extent, b e instituted in
ritual a s a c o m p o n e n t o f social solidarity. Memb ers o f society w o u l d ritually
realize commmu nitas, the vital fo rce o f all stable - but not static - society.
And this realization would flow into daily life as a quasi-mythical b e l i e f or
affectively charged, living fai th that m i tigated the dangers o f b o th structural
d i fferentiation and self-interest. Thus, paradoxically b u t understandab ly,
the m o s t historically turbulent of events - revolution - w ould be most
successful, in D u rkhei m's o p i n i o n , when i t gave rise t o the most stabilizing
features of social lif e: ritual and myth.
This conception of the revitalizing and reinforcing fu nction o f communal
ceremonies and feasts i n d i cates the sense i n which Durkheim b elieved that
all " h ealthy" societies required rituals related to the "ritual attitude" of sacred
respect for b a s i c commitments and values. Needless to say, these special,
ritual activities would be compatible with reason only i f the values and
norms they legitimated were neither fanatically irrational nor systematically
contradicted by ordinary experience. H i s idea of the condition of ritual i n
a normal state of society is i m p l i e d i n D urkheim's analysis rather than fully

elucidated. But it is at least consistent with his over-all argument to observe
that rituals which exacerbate irrational policies and fantastic visions without
modulating them simply reinforce the unhinged and u n b alanced nature of a
d u b i o u s status q u o . B u t , as long as they were limited or framed without can
celing all risk, the o u t b u rsts of anomie excess, affective overA ow, or chaotic
unity i n ritual (ordinarily illicit sexual unions, sacrilegious b u ffoonery, role
inversion, and other forms of radical communitas) fun ctioned cathartically
within the total economy of cultural life to assure viable balance. And i n
revol utionary transi tions, they might i n their extreme fo rms get o u t o f hand
and at times b e vehicles o f desirable social change. In a more explicit way,
Durkheim saw t h a t , in the "normal" state of soci ety, ordinary realities a n d
operative institutions would n o t hypocritically or self-decep tively contradict
cultural values but represent only "standard deviations" fro m them. In a
"pathological" context where values and n o r mative expectations were sys
tematically upset in practice, the ritual settings that d i d exist might function
as purdy escapist illusions or be seen thro ugh as vulgar shams.
The task of structural change i n modern societies marked by s i g n i ficant
p a t h o l ogy was t o revive the ideals o f classical revo l u t i o n s o f t h e past and
to realize t h e m viably through a s o r t of cultural revo l u t i o n of good fai t h .
T h e criterion o f success i n t h i s endeavor w o u l d b e t h e genesis o f a desir
able rhythm o f social life. Val ues and norms c o n s t i t u tive o f t h e conscience
collective would guide o r d i n ary practice w i t h an allowance fo r "standard
deviations" due to normal human fai lings. The conscience collective would
be p e r i o d i c ally recreated i n pure fo rm i n "ritual" contexts o f communal
s p o n ta n e i ty and j o y. T h u s the "normal" o r norm atively d esirable s o c i e ty
w o u l d combine the "constraint" of obligatory institutional norms with the
"collective effervescence" of m o tivated c o m m i t m e n t , commu nal spontane
i ty, affective i n t e n s i ty, and a dynamic leaven of a n o m i e o p e n n e s s . Norma
tive constraint would not be i n c o m p a t i b l e w i t h charismatic expressiveness
and a n e l e m e n t o f r i s k . O n l y i n such a society c o u l d q u asi-religious sym
bolism fu n c t i o n authentically as t h e sacred canopy of legitimacy for the
social order. D u rk h e i m's correlation o f s o c i o l ogy, religious revival, and
social change provided t h e background for h i s reform p r o p o s a l s .
Cmporatism
D urkheim's corporatism is frequently ignored o r at m o s t considered

to be an example of personal predilection that was extraneous to the m a i n
body o f this thought. It was, on the contrary, a n integral c o m p o n e n t of his
perspective, which applied his general idea of social normality t o the problem
of structural change in m o d e r n society. Essential to this vision of modern
social normality was a triangular model o f the state, the corporative group,
a n d the individual, existing in a tense dialectical balance.
Durkheim's conception of the situation and needs of modern society was
based upon an analysis o f historical evo l u t i o n in Western Europe. Corpo
rative groups such as the co m m une, the guild, and the estate had b e c o m e
increasingly restrictive at the same time t h a t t h e i r i m p o rtance declined with
the growing power of the central state. At first the conBict b etween the state
a n d corp orative groups had a positive function. F o r i t was the concrete
historical basis of individual rights. "It is fro m the conBict o f social forces
that individual liberties are b o rn . "46 B u t the extreme deve l o p m e n t of this
process of rising state power and individual emancipation fro m increasingly
o p p ressive int ermediary or secondary groups threatened to have negative
consequences. I t u n i ntentionally culminated in a social situation in which
the state, as the sole significant organized p ower, confronted the atomized
individual. This confrontation "had long since been prepared by progres
sive centralization under the ancien regime. " B u t "the great ch ange which
the French Revo l u t i o n accomplished was t o carry this leveling process to a
p o i n t hitherto unknown. "47
Without the countervailing protection of secondary groups, the i n d i
vidual liberties fi rst won through the intervention o f the state became b o t h
of d u b i o u s existential value for the individual and of uncertain duration i n
t h e face of s t a t e power. "Thus, by a s e r i e s o f endless oscillations, we p a s s
alternatively fro m a u t h o r i t a r i a n r e g u l a t i o n , which excessive rigidity makes
impotent, t o systematic abstention which cannot last because of the anarchy
i t p rovokes . " 4 8 Simultaneo usly, the largely uncontrolled development of t h e
e c o n o m y gave r i s e to classes w h o s e relations w e r e n o t b a s e d u p o n generally
accepted norms but u p o n unequal market power.49
The problem of modern society, according to Durkheim, was to create
broadly agreed-upon institutions which viably realized the democratic values
brought t o the forefr o n t o f consciousness during the classical revolutions

of the past. Before proposing a normative triangle of state regul ation, i n
dividual rights, a n d decentralized c o r p o r a t i s m , D u r k h e i m reviewed other
conceivable options.
H e explici tly rejected authoritarian state collectivism a n d rigidly cen
tralized bureaucratic control. The state was "too distant fr om the complex
manifestations" of economic and occupational life. It was "a h e avy ma
chine . . . cut out only fo r general and simple tasks . " Its invariably uniform
acti ons lacked "the fl exibility needed to ad just to an infinite diversity o f par
ticular circumstance s . " I t was "always o p pressive and leveling. " 5 0 In brief, the
state, through its centralized bureaucracy, maximized authoritarian structure;
and t h r o u g h i d e o logies like m i l i tant n a t i o n a l i s m , i t provided communitas
only i n aggressively violent and irrational ways.
The study of the family and kinship had a n i m p o rtance to Durkheim
which i s not adequately refl ected i n the relatively small amount o f p u b lished
material h e devoted to the subject. In general, h e saw a process o f "concen
tration" o f the family i n the course o f European history: over time t h e basic
k i n s h i p u n i t h a d c o m e to include fewer persons perfo r m i n g fewer fu nctions.
The modern nuclear family continued to have a n i m p o rtant social role fo r
Durkheim, p articularly in nurturing children, tempering men's desires, and
countering sexual excess. And h e was a staunch defender of the sanctity of
marriage and an adamant o p p o n e n t of divorce by m u t ual consent - views
which at times b r o ught him close to ordinary conservatism. B u t he did n o t
beli eve the family to b e a fo cal p o i n t for over coming modern anomie. O n e
problem a r e a on w h i c h he, like t h e disciples of Saint-Simon, placed special
emphasis was that o f inheritance.
The institution of inheritance implies that there are rich and p o o r

from birth, i . e . , there are i n society two great classes, linked, however,
by all sorts of intermediaries; one is obliged, in order to live, to have
the other accept i t s services at any price whatsoever; the other is able
to do without these services, thanks to the resources it possesses, even
though these resources do not correspond to services rendered by those
who enjoy them. As long as an opposition as dear-cut as this exists in
society, more o r less successfu l pal l iatives will mi tigate the injustice of
contracts; but, i n principle, the system will fU nction under conditions
which do not permit it t o be j ust. 5 1
F a m i l i a l i n h e r i t a n c e was a vestige fro m t h e p a s t w h i c h i n h i b i t e d

e q u a l i ty o f o p p o r t u n i t y i n e d u c a t i o n a n d i n t h e c h o i c e o f a n o c c u p a t i o n
t h a t w a s i n k e e p i n g w i t h o ne's t a l e n t s . " I t i s evi d e n t t h a t t h e e d u c a t i o n
o f o u r children o u g h t n o t t o d e p e n d u p o n c h a n c e , w h i c h d e t e r m i n e s
t h e i r b i rth i n o n e p l a c e r a t h e r t h a n another, a n d t o c e r t a i n p a r e n t s r a t h e r
t h a n o t h e rs . " 5 2 I n d e e d , D ur k h e i m a s s e r t e d t h a t "a d a y w i l l c o m e w h e n
a m a n i s n o l o n g e r p e r m i t t e d t o leave, even b y t e s t a m e n t , h i s for t u n e t o
h i s d e s c e n d a n t s , j us t as h e i s n o l o n g e r p e r m i t t e d to l e a v e t h e m h i s func
tions and t i t l e s . " 5 3 As a practical p r o p o s a l , however, D ur k h e i m s e e m e d t o
a d v a n c e a c o m p r o m i s e fo r m u l a t h a t restricted fam i l i a l i n h e r i t a n c e t o a
p e rcentage of the family wealth roughly p r o p o r ti o n a l t o t h e i m p o r t a n c e
o f t h e fa m i l y a s an i n s t i t u t i o n i n m o d e r n soci ety. T h i s idea b o t h accorded
w i t h existing fam i l i a l s e n t i m e n t and allowed for a s t o r e o f wealth t h a t
c o u l d b e u s e d for s o c i a l p u r p o s e s . B u t given t h e dangers o f excessive s t a t e
p o w e r and r i g i d b ureaucratic c o n t r o l , t h i s s o l u t i o n created t h e p r o b l e m
o f e s t a b l i s h i n g a r e p o s i t o r y for t h e transmission o f w e a l t h i n s o c i e ty.
And greater e q u a l i t y of o p p or t u n i ty in t h e access to e d u c a t i o n a n d t h e
c h o i ce o f o c c u p a t i o n s d i d n o t s o l v e t h e p r o b l e m o f t h e n a t u r e o f s o c i a l
s t r u c t u res o r affect t h e p r i m a r y s o u r c e o f generalized a n o m i e i n m o d e r n
s o c i e t y : t h e e c o n o my.
According to D ur k h e i m , e d u c a t i o n itself was p o w e r l e s s to act as a
m a j o r lever fo r b a s i c s o ci a l change. It c o u l d p l a y a r o l e o n l y w i t h i n a
b r o a d e r m o v e m e n t for r a t i o n a l refo r m . E d u c a t i o n was "only t h e image
and reflection of s o c i e ty . " I t was " h e al t h y when p e o p le s e n j o y [ e d ] a state
o f h e a l t h . " B u t i t b e ca m e " c o r r u p t e d with t h e m , w i t h o u t b e i n g able to
m o dify i t s e l f through i t s own i n i t i a t i ve . " E d u ca t i o n c o u l d reform itself
only i f s o c i e t y was r e fo r m e d . To reform s o c i e ty, o n e had t o attack "the
causes of t h e evil" fro m which society s u ffer e d . 54 Here D u r k h e i m d i d
n o t d o j us t i c e t o t h e i n creasingly i m p o r t a n t p o s i t i o n o f e d u c a t i o n a l
i n s t i t u t i o n s i n m o dern s o c i e t i e s as agencies o r affi l i a t e s o f government,
partners of e c o n o m i c e n t er p r i s e , loci o f research and deve l o p m e n t , m o re
or less contested s i t e s for t h e g e n e r a t i o n a n d d i s s e m i n a t i o n of knowledge
a n d i d e o l ogy, and m e d i a of selection and training. But his c o n c e p t i o n of
p r i o ri t i e s in s t r u c t u r a l reform was c o g e n t .
T h e s t a t e o f t h e e c o n o m y was t h e b a s i c c a u s e o f m o d e r n s o c i al
p a t h o l o gy . On t h i s p o i n t , D ur k h e i m s e e m e d t o agree w i t h M arx. B u t
D ur k h e i m's largely m o ral c o n c e p t i o n o f t h e p r o b l e m was n o t grounded i n

anything c o m p a r a b l e t o M arx's attem p t t o provide a detailed i n s t i t u t i o n a l
analysis o f t h e s o u r c e o f " c o n t r a d i c t i o n s " i n t h e e c o n o m y.
T h e m o s t b l a m a b l e acts are so o ften absolved by success t h a t t h e

l i m i t b e t w e e n w h a t i s p e r m i t te d a n d w h a t is p r o h i b i te d , w h a t i s
j us t a n d w h a t i s n o t , n o longer h a s a n y t h i n g fi xed ab o u t i t ; i t s e e m s
s u s c e p t i b l e t o a l m o s t a r b i t r a r y change b y i n d i v i d u a l s . S u c h a n
i m p recise and i n c o n s t a n t m o r a l i t y is n o longer a b l e t o c o n s t i t u t e
a d i s c i p l i n e . T h e r e s u l t is t h a t t h i s e n t i r e s p h e r e of collective l i fe
is in large p a r t d e p r i v e d of t h e m o d e r a t i n g a c t i o n of r e g u l a t i o n .
I t i s this a n o m i e s t a t e t h a t is t h e c a u s e o f t h e i n cessantly recur
rent confl icts and the v a r i o u s disorders o f which the e c o n o m i c
w o r l d o ffers s o sad a s p e c t a c l e . S i n c e n o t h i n g restrains t h e active
fo rces a n d assigns them b o u n d s that they are o b l i g e d to r e s p e c t ,
t h e y tend to develop w i t h o u t l i m i t a n d co m e i n t o c o l l i s i o n w i t h
o n e a n o t h e r, b a t tl i n g a n d w e a k e n i n g t h e m s e l v e s . To b e s u r e ,
t h e s t r o n g e s t s u c c e e d i n c o m p l e t e l y crushing t h e weakest, o r i n
s u b o rd i n a t i n g t h e m . B u t i f t h e c o n q u e r e d m us t for a t i m e resign
themselves t o s u b o r d i n a t i o n under c o n s t r a i n t , they do not consent
t o i t . C o n s e q u e n tly, t h i s c a n n o t c o n s t i t u t e a stable e q u i li b r i u m .
Tru c e s i m p o s e d b y violence a r e never a n y t h i n g b u t p r o v i s i o n a l ,
and t h e y s a t i s fY n o one. H u m an p as s i o n s halt o nl y b e fo r e a m o r al
p o w e r t h a t they r e s p e c t . If all a u t h o r i t y of this k i n d is lacking, t h e
law o f t h e strongest p r e v a i l s . And, l a t e n t o r a c t i v e , t h e s t a t e o f w a r
i s n ecessa r i l y c h ro n i c . T h at such a s t a t e of a n a r c h y i s a m o rb i d
p h e n o m e n o n i s s e l f- evi d e n t , s i n c e i t c o n t r a d i c t s t h e v e r y e n d o f
a l l s o c i e ty, w h i c h is t o s u p p ress, o r a t t h e v e r y l e a s t t o m o d e r a t e ,
w a r a m o n g m e n b y s u b o rd i n a t i n g t h e p h y s i c a l l a w o f t h e strongest
t o a higher law. 55
D u r k h e i m saw the deve l o p m e n t o f lab o r u n i o n s and m a n a g e m e n t

groups as an initial but inadequate step i n the right direction. Procedures
l i k e collective b ar g a i n i n g d i d n o t o v e r c o m e excessively a n o m i e r e l a t i o n s ;
t h e r e s u l t w a s an e x t r e m e l y p r e c a r i o u s s t ability t h a t was q u i t e c o m p a t i b l e
w i t h e g o i s m a n d p o w e r confl icts.
Syndicates o f em ployers and l a b o r u n i o ns are distinct fro m one

another, which is legitimate and necessary, b u t there is n o regular
contact b etween t h e m . There exists no c o m m o n organization which

brings them together w i th o u t denying their i n d i v i d u a l i t y a n d i n
which t h e y m a y elaborate i n c o m m o n a regulation t h a t , b y fixing
t h e i r m utual relations, i s i m p o s e d u p o n b o th with a c o m m o n au
thori ty. C o n s e q u e n tly, it is always t h e law of the strongest which
settles c o n fl icts, and the state of w a r prevails c o m p l e t e ly. Except fo r
actions w h i c h fal l u n d e r c o m m o n m o r a l i ty, e m p loyers and work
men are, i n their m u t u a l relations, in t h e same s i t u a t i o n as two
a u t o n o m o u s states, b u t of unequal power. Like p e o p l e s through
the m e d i u m o f t h e i r govern m e n t s , they can make contracts. B u t
these contracts i n d i cate o n l y t h e respective state o f military fo rces
conf rooting one a n o t h e r. They are l i k e treaties w h i ch i n d i c a t e the
respective state of m i l i t a r y fo rces b e tween two b elligerents. They
consecrate a de facto state; they cannot create a j us t state [ u n Itat
de droit] . 5 6
T h e professional or corporative group was the crux of Durkheim's idea

of a possible means of creating a tense balance among the elements of social
j ustice and health in modern society. In a sense, D u rkheim's corporative idea
applied t h e principle o f Occam's razo r - t o make o n l y a s many assumptions
as necessary - to the intricate problem of social "normality" in the context
of the advanced degree of the division of labor and the generalized exchange
of goods and services. Through fu nctional decentraliza t i o n , the corporative
gro up could simultaneously provide a counterweight to the central state and
a social context in which communitas and a more cum ulative articulation of
social and cultural experience might develop. Acting i n accordance with the
fundamental economic and occupational functions of modern society, the
corporative group would also have a role in the inheritance of wealth, educa
tion, economic regulation, welfare services, political representation, and artistic
creation. Most important, it would be a center of genuine communal com
mitment - to a signifi cant extent a real existential (not simply an im aginary)
gro up - with the moral power to restrain anomie and transcend egoism. In
the corporative group, people would come to know one another and enjoy
what might be called a supplementary kinship.
D u rkheim derived his idea of the need fo r corporative groups partly
from a h i s t o r i c a l survey that his proposed c o m parative h i s t o r y o f this fo r m
o f so cial organization was t o h a v e detailed. O n t h e b a s i s o f t h e lessons
Chapter 5 Theory and Practice 20 5
he drew fro m h i s investigation of c o m p arative h i s t o ry, h e felt j us t i fi e d

i n asserting that c o r p o r a t i s m c o r r e s p o n d e d t o a permanent fu nctional
n e e d i n s o c i e t i e s w h i c h had passed beyond the stage of an agri c u l t u ral
e c o n o m y. C o m p arison itself, however, did not solve s p e c i fically m o dern
p r o b l e m s ; i t m e r e l y helped one t o distinguish similarities and d i fferences,
revealed n o r m a l and pathological fu nctioning i n d i fferent social types,
and enabled o n e better t o situate s p e cifi cally m o d e r n c o n d i t i o n s , dangers,
and p o s s i b i l i t i e s .
I n G r e e c e , a t least u n t i l the Ro man c o n q u e s t , c o r p o r a t i o n s were u n
k n o w n , b e c a u s e e c o n o m i c o c c u p a t i o ns w e r e socially d e s p i s e d a n d con
signed t o fo reigners. In Rome, o n the con trary, they dated fro m the earliest
t i m e s o f t h e R e p u b l i c . S i g n i fi c a n tly, t h e Roman corporat ive group d u r i n g
t h e p e r i o d of t h e R e p u b l i c was a religi o u s confraternity. Under t h e Empire,
however, corporative groups b oth reached their fullest development and, i n
p a r t b e c a u s e of c i v i l w a r s a n d invasi o n s , fell u n d e r the d o m i n a t i o n of the
state. " T h i s was the ruin of the i n s t i t u ti o n. " 5 7 The central p o i n t here, fo r
D u r k h e i m , was that an adequate c o m p a r i s o n h a d to consider s o c i e t i e s a t
comparable stages o f development. O n e could n o t , fo r e x a m p l e , generalize
about the viability of an institution on the basis o f its decadence or a b u s e .
After t h e fall of Rome, " i f a n economist had taken stock of t h e situation, h e
w o u l d reasonably have concluded, a s e c o n o m i s ts l a t e r d i d , that corporative
groups had n o t , or at least n o longer h a d , any r a i s o n d' etre, that they had
dis appeared once a n d fo r all, a n d h e u n d o u b tedly would have treated any
a t t e m p t to r e c o n s t i t u t e them as retrogressive and unrealizab l e . " 5 8
T h e r e b i r t h o f c o r p o r ative g r o u p s i n t h e M i ddle Ages showed that t h e
hypothetical e c o n o m i s t living i n t h e " D ark Ages" w o u l d have b e e n wrong.
In fact, the i m p o rtance o f c o r p o rative groups in the m e d i eval p e r i o d was
greater than i n Rome. I n Rome, the c o r p o rative group was n o t a p ub l i c
i n s t i t u t i o n . B u t i n t h e M i d d l e Ages i t b e c a m e t h e v e r y fo undation of the
c o m m u n e . In a d i ffer e n t fo rm, it retained moral and religious functions
and was a c e n t e r o f communal feasts and b a n g uets. And, as i n Rome,
it provided a locus of i n t i m acy less restricted than the fam i l y and m o r e
p e r s o n a l than the c i ty. A p o i n t w h i c h would b e c o m e increasi ngly relevant
with the deve l o p m e n t o f D u rkheim's thought was that in b o t h cases "all
religious c o m m unity constituted a moral m i l i e u , j ust as all moral discipline
tended i n t i m e t o assume a religious form . "59 I f t h e case of Rome revealed
the danger o f state d o m i n a t i o n , the ancien regime p oi n t e d to t h e danger

o f the possible d o m i n a t i o n of one s o c i o e c o n o m i c group by another. I n
t h e m e d i eval p e r i o d , stratifi cation w i t h i n t h e c o r p o r a tive group was often
n o t rigid or highly marked, s i n c e the a p p r e n t i c e c o u l d as a r u l e b e c o m e
a m a s t e r i n his t u r n . B y t h e e n d of t h e ancien regime, c o r p o r a t i o n s h a d
b e c o m e instruments through w h i c h masters exploited workers. T h i s de
velopment led t o the fo r m a t i o n o f trade u n i o n s o u t s i d e the pale o f the
c o r p o rative organ i z a t i o n . 60
B u t there is no i n s t i t u t i o n w h i c h does n o t a t s o m e t i m e degener

ate, e i th e r b e cause it cannot change and b e c o m e s i m m o b i l i z e d
or b e c a u s e i t develops i n a u n i l a t e r a l d i r e c t i o n . . . . T h i s m a y b e a
reason t o refo r m it b u t n o t to declare i t p e r m a n e n tl y useless a n d
d e s t r o y i t . . . . If fro m the o r i g i n o f the c i t y u n t i l t h e z e n i t h o f t h e
E m p i r e , from t h e d a w n o f C h r i s t i a n i t y u n t i l m o d ern t i m e s , t h e y
h a v e b e e n necessary, i t is b e c a u s e t h e y answer p e r m a n e n t a n d p ro
fo u n d n e e d s . The fact that after having d i s a p p e a r e d the fi rs t t i m e ,
they were r e c o n s t i t u t e d b y t h e m s e lves a n d i n a n e w fo r m r e b u t s
a n y a r g u m e n t t h a t t h e i r v i o l e n t d i s a p p e a r a n c e a t the e n d o f t h e
l a s t c e n t u r y i s a p r o o f t h a t t h e y a r e no longer i n h a r m o n y w i t h t h e
new c o n d i t i o n s o f c o l l e ctive e x i s t e n c e . 6 1
O n e p r o b l e m t h e c o r p o rative g r o u p failed to m e e t I n early m o d e r n

t i m e s was t h a t t h e c o m m u n e proved to b e t o o restricted a fra m e w o r k
fo r the regul a t i o n o f commerce, w h i c h was becoming n a t i o n a l a n d i n
t e r n a t i o n a l . ( T h e c o n t e m p o r a r y t r a n s n a t i o n a l c o r p o r a t i o n would p o s e
even more severe diffi c u l t i e s fo r t h e v i a b l e organization of c o r p o rative
gro u p s . ) A second p r o b l e m h a d t o d o with the s t r u c t ur e of a u t h o r i t y i n
t h e c o r p o rative group i t s e l f - a p r o b l e m t h a t s u b s e q u e n t h i s t o r y has
e x a c e r b a t e d , a l o n g with t h e q u e s t i o n o f relations b e tw e e n the corpo
rative group a n d t h e state. Altho ugh D u rkheim was not as clear o r as
c o m p rehensive as he might have been, h i s c o n c e p t i o n o f t h e s t r u c t u r e o f
authority in corporative groups w a s essentially democratic, and i t included
i n d u strial d e m o cr a cy.
S p e c i a l i z e d r e g u l a t i o n s can b e m a d e o n l y b y elected a s s e m b l i e s
charged w i t h representing t h e c o r p o r a t i o n . I n the p r e s e n t s t a t e
o f i n d ustry, these a s s e m b l i e s , a s well as t h e t r i b u n a l s w h i c h a p p l y
profess i o n a l regulations, obviously ought to i n c l u d e representatives

o f employers and e m p loyees . . . in p r o p o r t i o n s corresp o n d i n g to the
respective i m p o r tance a t t ri b u t e d by o p i n i o n to these two factors
i n p r o d u c t i o n . B u t i f i t is necessary t h a t b o t h be p r e s e n t i n t h e
d i recting c o u n cils o f t h e corporation, i t is n o less indispensable t h a t
t h e y fo rm a t t h e b a s e o f t h e c o r p o r a t i o n d i s t i n c t a n d i n d e p e n d e n t
gro u p s , for t h e i r interests a r e t o o often rival and antagonistic. F o r
t h e m to b e a b l e to t a k e p os i t i o n s fre ely, t h e y m u s t take p o s i t i o n s
separately. T h e t w o g r o u p s t h u s c o n s t i t u t e d c o u l d s u b s e q u e n tly
d e s i g n a t e t h e i r represen tatives to t h e co m m o n a s s e m b l i e s . 62
Durkheim argued that "the already so powerful and so clumsy hands of

the state" were incompetent and dangerou s instruments for the provision
of social welfare and the detailed regulation o f the econo my. Thus, h e con
cluded that the problem of the anomie and egoism fo stered by the antip athy
between centralized b ureaucratic rigidity and atomized individualism could
be resolved only b y fo rming, "outside the state, but subject t o its action, a
duster of collective forces whose regulative influence can be exercised with
more variety. "63 But h e readily acknowledged the tendency o f secondary o r
intermediary groups t o develop i n the direction of closed societies charac
terized b y "the despotism of routine and professional ego i s m . " 64 To check
this tendency and to protect the rights of the individual, the democratic state
was to retain limited but crucial functions. "Only the state can oppose to the
particularism of each corporation a consciousness of general utility and the
necessities of organic equilibrium."65
A defining feature of the democratic state, fo r Durkheim, was its achieve
ment of conscious awareness of the needs of all social groups through the
open communication assured by representative institutions.66 H i s conception
of the democratic state in the normal society was both legislative and moral.
Using his peculiar p h i l osophical vocab u l ary, he designated the state as the
representative ( b u t not the incarnation) of the conscience collective. Its specific
function was to elaborate "collective representations" i n the form of laws valid
for society as a whole.
A s t r i k i n g d e fe c t of D u rkheim's p o l i t i cal s o c i o l o g y i n s u c h works as
Professional Ethics and Civic Morals was the neglect of executive leadership
a n d p o l i t i cal p a r t i e s . H i s neglect of executive leadership m i gh t be seen as
a r e fl e c t i o n of the d o - n o t h i n g n a t u r e o f the state i n his own Third Re-
p u b l i c . B u t h e was n o t , i n fact, advocating the r e d u c t i o n o f gove r n m e n t

t o t h e status o f a d e b a t i n g s o c i e t y i n a c o n t e x t m a r k e d b y severe s o c i a l
p r o b l e m s . N o r w a s h i s neglect o f p o l i t i cal p a r t i e s related t o a n a t t e m p t
t o d i s c r e d i t p a r l i a m e n t a r i s m i n t h e m a n n e r o f fi gures o n b o th t h e far
left (for e x a m p l e , t h e early Walter B e n j a m i n a n d t h e e q u i v o c a l G e orges
S o r e l ) and the fa r right (for e x a m p l e , C h a r l e s M a u rr a s , P i e r r e D ri e u La
R o c h e l l e , and Carl S ch m i t t ) , i n cl u d i n g m o r e r e a c t i o n a r y advocates of
c o r p o r a t i s m . D u r k h e i m was a fi rm s u p p o r t e r of p a r l i a m e n t a r y govern
m e n t and did n o t advocate a "one p a r ty" s t a t e . B u t a t t i m e s he did s e e m
c l o s e t o an i d e a o f a " n o p arty" s t a t e , o r a t l e a s t t o a vision i n w h i c h p ar
t i e s , like i n t e r e s t gro u p s , w o u l d play a very s u b o r d i n a t e r o l e . B a s i cally,
D u rk h e i m was p r e s e n t i n g a no rmative c o n ce p t i o n of t h e r o l e o f t h e state
i n the "normal" s o c i ety. Here all particular i n t e r e s t s and agencies w o u l d
b e r e g u l a t e d b y l i m i t i n g n o r m s . And t h e s t a t e w o u l d b e a legal e n t i t y
w h o s e l a w s a p p l i e d the n o r m s and v a l u e s o f t h e conscience co llective. Early
i n h i s l i f e , D ur k h e i m criticized M o n tesqu i e u for t h e o r e t i c a l l y s e p a r a t i n g
law a n d e t h i c s Y In D u r k h e i m's "normal" s o c i e ty, b o th law and e t h i c s
w o u l d fi n d t h e i r u n i ta r y s o u r ce i n n o r m a t i v e p r i n c i ples e m b o d i e d i n t h e
c o n s c i e n c e collective.
Indeed, a c c o r d i n g t o D u r k h e i m , s e l f-gov e r n m e n t w o u l d m o s t ade
quately fi ll s o c i a l needs a n d t h e general conditions of normative pluralism
be b e s t realized i f c o r p o rative g r o u p s themselves b ec a m e the b as i c u n i ts
of p o l i t i c a l representation. T h i s i d e a was in k e e p i n g w i t h his general view
t h a t in m o d e r n s o c i e t y t e r r i t o r i a l u n i t s lacked b o th c u l t u r a l i d e n t i t y and
t h e m e a n s t o c o p e w i t h p r o b l e m s s t e m m i n g fr om advanced t e c h n o logy
and i n d u s t r i a l i s m . " T h e o n l y d e ce n t r a l i z a t i o n w h i c h , w i t h o u t b r e a k i n g
up n a t i o n a l u n i ty, p er m i t s t h e m u l t i p l i c a t i o n o f c e n t e r s o f c o m m o n l i fe
is w h a t m i g h t b e c a l l e d professional decentralizatio n . "68 R e g i o n a l and
local g r o u p i ngs c o r r e s p o n d i n g to p r o b l e m s which c o u l d be handled a t
t h e s e levels w o u l d c o n t i n u e t o e x i s t , b ut t h e b r u n t o f activity w i t h i n a
s t r u c t u r a l l y transfo r m e d s o c i e t y w o u l d fa ll u p o n p ro fess i o n al or c o r p o
rative g r o u p s .
T h u s c o r p o rative g r o u p s , i n t ernally characterized b y a d e m o c r a t i c
s t r u c t u r e o f a u t h o r i t y a n d r e l a t e d t o o n e a n o t h e r b y n o rmatively c o n
t r o l l e d , a m i a b l e rivalry u n d e r the general a u s p i c e s of t h e d e m o c r a t i c s t a t e ,
w e r e fo r D u rk h e i m the sole means of overcoming a n o m i e a n d a s s u r i n g
s o l i d a r i t y i n m o d e r n s o c i e ty. In e s s e n c e , t h e goal D u r k h e i m i n d i c a t e d
i n h i s i d e a o f t h e c o r p o r ative g r o u p w a s t h a t o f r a i s i n g s o c i e t y above t h e
m u n d a n e level o f t h e m e r e l y e c o n o m i c .
I f w e j u dge t h e m [ i . e . , c o r p o r ative g r o u p s ] t o b e i n d i s p e n s a b l e , i t i s
n o t b e c a u s e of t h e e co n om i c services t h e y c o u l d r e n d e r b u t b e cause
o f the moral infl uence they might have. What we s e e ab ove all i n the
professional group i s a moral power able to restrain i n d i v i d u a l ego
ism, m a i n t a i n i n t h e hearts o f workers a livelier s e n t i m e n t o f t h e i r
comm o n s o l i d a r i ty, a n d prevent t h e law o f t h e strongest fro m b e i n g
a p p l i e d so b r u t al l y in i n d ustrial a n d c o m m e r c i a l relations.69
D u r k h e i m a d m i t t e d t h a t i t was d i ffi c u l t t o see how o cc u p a t i o n s

" c o u l d ever b e elevated to t h e dignity of m o r a l p o w e r s . I n d e e d , t h e y are
fo r m e d of i n d i v i d u a l s which n o t h i n g attaches to one a n o t h e r , who are
even d i s p o s e d t o treat one a n o t h e r like rivals and e n e m i e s rather t h a n
l i k e c o o p e ra t o r s . " 7 0 B u t h e nonetheless r e m a i n e d o p t i m i s t i c . I n h i s m i n d
t h e p r o fessional group represented t h e "fu n c t i o n a l e q u ivalent" through
whi ch there could be instituted what h e saw as t h e essence o f s o c i a l i s m .
C o r p o r a t i s m w o u l d make s o c i a l i s m m o r e t h a n a b r e a d - a n d - b u t t e r i s s u e .
It w o u l d r e s p o n d t o t h e s o c i a l i s t " a s p i r a t i o n for a rearrangem e n t o f the
social structure, b y relocating the i n d ustrial set-up i n the totality of the
social organism, d rawing it out o f the s h a d o w where it was fu n c t i o n
i n g a u t o m atically, s u m m o n i n g i t i n t o t h e l i g h t and t h e control o f t h e
conscience [ o r c o n s c i o u s n e s s : la comcience] . " T h r o u gh c o r p o r a t i s m t h e
s o c i a l q u e s t i o n w o u l d b e co m e , " n o t a q u e s t i o n o f m o n e y o r fo r ce , " b u t
"a q u e s t i o n o f m o r a l agen ts . " 7 1
T h e conception o f D urkheim a s a m i l i t a n t n a t i o n a l i s t a n d " fi ery j i ngo"
c a m e fro m his w a r t i m e p a m p h l e ts a n d a m i s c o n c e p t i o n of the n a t u r e o f
his m o r e s e r i o u s t h o u g h t . 7 2 Whether o r not h i s p r o p a ga n d i s t i c p a m p h lets
actually j u s ti fi ed these characterizations is d e b a t a b l e . In his c o n c e p t i o n
of t h e s t a t e and the n a t i o n i n h i s m o r e s e r i o u s w o r k s , D u r k h e i m showed
himself to be a l i b e r a l p a t r i o t who a p p l i e d t o t h e relations among states
t h e same principles o f social solidarity th a t h e a p p l i e d to group relations
i n t h e "normal" d o m e s t i c context. H e w a s attracted t o the ideal o f world
gover n m e n t . But he fo und it so far d i s t a n t from t h e realm of fe a s i b i l i t y
t h a t h e p r o p o s e d i n s t e a d a slightly l e s s u to p i a n g o a l of r e c o n c i l i n g h u -
mane values and n o r m a tive l i m i t s t o collective a s s e r t i o n w i t h t h e state

s yste m . H i s i d e a l i s t i c expression of p a t r i o t i s m was close to the ideas of
a Mazzini.
I f e a c h s t a t e a d o p t e d as i t s e s s e n t i a l t a s k n o t t o grow or t o extend
i t s fro n tiers but to deal with i ts own autonomy as best it c o u l d ,
t o c a l l to an ever greater m o ral l i fe t h e vast rn a j o r i t y o f i t s own
m e m b e rs , then all c o n t r a d i c t i o n s b e tween n a t i o n a l and h u m a n
m o r a l i t y w o u l d d i s a p p e ar. I f the state h a d n o fu r t h e r goal than
t o make its citizens men i n t h e fu l l s e n s e o f the word, t h e n civic
duties would be only a parti cular fo r m o f the general d u t i e s of
h u m a n i t y . . . . This patriotism does not exclude all national p r i d e .
Collective p e rsonalities, like individual personalities, c a n n o t exist
w i t h o u t having a certain sentiment a b o u t themselves and what they
are. And this s e n t i m e n t always has s o m e t h i n g p ersonal a b o u t i t . As
long as states exist, there w i l l b e s o c i a l s e l f-esteem, and n o t h i n g i s
m o r e legitimate. B u t societies c a n s e e t h e i r self-esteem, n o t i n b e i n g
greater o r wealthier, b u t i n b e i n g m o r e j us t , b e t t e r organized, and
in h a v i n g a b e t t e r m o ral c o n s t i t ut i o n . Needl ess to say, w e h ave not
yet reached the time when this p a t r i o t i s m reigns s u p r e m e , if ever
such a time can comeJ3
T h e s e elevated sentiments d i d not confr o n t problems r e l a t e d t o the vast

disparities in power and wealth among existing states, and they fai led t o en
gage colonial and imperialistic realities often encrypted i n idealistic rhetoric.
And Durkheim d i d not live to s e e h i s ideals tested b y the harsh realities of
Wo rld War I. Such considerations render even more diffi c u l t o f attainment
the type of generous, humane patriotism Durkheim envisaged.
What may one c o n c l u d e a b o u t D u rkhei m's p r o p o s e d refo r m s ? In one
s e n s e , his c o r p o r a t i s t p r o p o sals required b a s i c , s t r u c t u r a l refo r m . T h e y
e n j o i n e d social c o n t r o l of the e c o n o m y related, h owever vaguely, to dem
o c r a t i c v a l u e s . In a d d i t i o n , t h e y i m p l i e d a qualitatively diffe r e n t form o f
relationship a m o n g p e o p l e in modern society. B u t Durkheim's formulations
remained entirely t h e o r e t i c a l . They were indeed vague and, fo r this very
reason, o p e n to c o n fl i c t i n g i n terpretations and divergent a p p r o p r i a t i o n s .
His c o n c e p t i o n o f p o l i ti c s w a s oft e n excessively h i g h - m i n d e d a n d i m p rac
tical. His hatred o f the " p o l i t i cal kitchen" i n h i b i t e d a full understanding of
p o l i t i c a l interests and an a t t e m p t to relate them cogently t o his own i d e a s .
N o r c a n h i s reforms b e j u dged a d e q u a t e to the severe p r o b l e m s that h e a t

l e a s t partially perceived. Moreover, D u rkheim o ffered no i n s i g h t i n t o t h e
q u e s t i o n of m e a n s of realizing his p r o p o s e d refo r m s . T h i s w a s an especially
disabling o mi s s i o n in a case where the means e m p l oyed w o u l d help to
shape the envisaged end. D urk heim's a t t e m p t to relate theory and practice
broke down a t the m o s t vital p o i n t . Although one m a y certainly d o u b t
whether a n y intellectual or commentator arrived a t a b e t t e r articulation o f
t h e s e diffi c ult i f no t intractable i s s u e s , one m a y n o n e theless q u e s t i o n t h e
fas h i o n i n w h i c h D u rkheim's v i s i o n t e n d e d to s h a d e off i n t o a p i o u s h o p e
a b o u t a n indeterminate fut u r e t h a t b o re little r e l a t i o n t o social realities
o r their apparent deve l o p m e n t a l tendencies. At a crucial j u ncture of the
argum e n t , o p t i m i s m took t h e place o f hard t h i n k i n g . Nor did Durkh e i m
i n later life return t o the issues raised b y his reform proposals. Rather, h e
i n creasingly devoted h i m s elf t o t h e investigation o f religion and t o the
development of his own highly idealistic s o c i a l p h i l o s o phy.
The Individual and Society
W h a t was D u rkheim's c o n c e p t i o n of the role of the i n d i v i d u a l in s o

c i e t y ? W h i c h type o f i n d i v i d u a l i s m d i d h e a t t a c k and which t y p e d i d h e
defend? A n d h o w w e r e t h e s e q u e s t i o ns related to Durkhei m's k e y distinc
t i o n b e tween social normality and pathology?
The specific type o f individualism that Durkheim attacked w a s excessive
individuation, or a t o m i s t i c , possessive individualism. Suicide analyzed t h e
p a t hogenic effects o f de focto a n d i n s t i t u t i o n a l i z e d e g o i s m a n d t r a c e d i t s
r e l a t i o n t o anomie. D u rkheim s a w u t i l i tarianism as t h e i d e ological legiti
ma tion o f extreme i n d i v i d u a l i s m . One function o f c o m p arative s t u d i e s
and " c r u c i a l experi m e n t s , " h e thought, w a s t o p r o v i d e the p e r s p ective that
permitted h i m to argue t h a t utilitarianism (and other variants of atomistic
i n d i v i d u a l i s m ) a t t e m p t e d to transfo r m a transitional aberration i n t o a
universal moral and c u l t u r a l t r u t h . F o r D u r k h e i m , u t i l i tarianism was
"contradicted by everything which h i s t o r y and c o mparative ethnography
teach us a b o u t the moral l i fe of h u m anity."7 4
Essential to D u rkheim's own p o s i t i o n was a basic model of the h u m a n
b e i n g . As noted earli er, at times t h i s m o d e l was d u b i o usly gendered, w i t h
m e n more creatures of limitless desire and women, less involved in deregu

lated areas o f social activity and closer to a p utative organic e q u i l i b r i u m of
need and desire. Moreover, there was a sense i n which, for Durkheim and
others at the time, gender and sexuality were so closely m a p p e d onto, o r even
identified with, one another t h a t homosexuality could not arise as an explicit
q u e s t i o n . Indeed t h e interest in general models o f the human being or the
sometimes obsessive concern with the abstract problem of the individual
a n d society readily diverted attention fro m more concrete, confl ictual, and
ethicopoliti cally fraught issues i n society and culture. Still, the merit of
Durkhei m's views was t o i n d i cate that a critique of normalization (or the
conflation of the normative with t h e statistically average o r dominant) did
not e l i m i n a t e b u t rather called for an attempt to work out an alternative
normativity, at times including normativities with which Durkheim might
not agree (for example, one that did not exclude o r render abject b u t , on
the contrary, legitimated non-heterosexual practices).
Durkheim con ceived of the h u m an being in the "state of nature" as an
isolated individual outside all society. This conception reduced the individual
t o his or her organic a n d psychophysical givens. The psychological capacity
of the individual in the "state o f nature" was limited to sensation. B u t needs
were limited as well by organic functioning and instinct.
T h e role of society and symbolism i n h u m a n life depended, i n the most
general sense, o n whether social structure assumed normal o r pathological
fo rm. At this p o i n t , D urkheim's sociology and his value theory were u n i t e d .
Central t o b o t h was t h e instit utionalized norm o r value enshrined in t h e
conscience collecti ve. The conscience collective b e c a m e D u rkhei m's analogue
fo r Kant's practical reason and Rousseau's volonte genera/e.
Social structure and conscience collective were aspects o f the s a m e reali ty.
In the "normal" state of society, institu tionalized norms and values would
b e b o th obj ectively structured (like "things") and subj ectively internalized.
In their objective aspect, institutions were characterized by exteriority and
constraint. In the "normal" state of society, however, constraint was i d e n t i cal
with obligation, duty, and a sense of responsibility. It was related to the sense
of legitimate l i m i ts and mesure, which fo r Durkheim was essential fo r all
morality and solidarity in society. This role of institut ional norms was well
expressed in a statement Durkheim quoted from Roussea u's Emile: "If the
laws of societies, like those of nature, b e came so inflexible that no h u m a n
force could ever b e n d them, dependence u p o n men would b e c o m e depen

dence upon things l " 7 5 In his Moral Educatio n, Durkheim expressed i n his
own way the meaning o f the "thinglike" quality of i n h i b i ti o n s imposed b y
institutions a n d internalized n o r m s i n t h e "normal" state o f society: "When
a man with a healthy moral constitution tries to c o m m i t an act which mo
rality blames, h e feels something which stops him just as if he tried t o p i c k
u p a r o c k w h i c h i s too heavy for h i m . " 7 6 Thus, i n t h i s naturalizing analogy,
t h e moral i n h i b i t i o n s created b y institutional norms would b e as weighty
as rocks i n the personality.
E x t e r i o r i t y a n d c o n s t r a i n t as c r i t e r i a o f i n s t i t u t i o n a l n o r m s were
stressed b y Durkheim i n his early thought. H e c a m e t o see in t i m e that
in the "normal" o r n o rmatively legitimated state of s o c i e t y t h ese aspects
of i n s t i t u t i o n s would be combined with their d e s i r a b i l i ty. I n t h e p reface
to the s e c o n d e d i t i o n o f The Rules of Sociological Method, h e o b s erved:
" I n s t i t u t i o n s may i m p o s e themselves u p o n us, b u t we are attached to
them; they put us under obligations, and w e love them; they constrain
us, and we fi n d our welfare i n their func t i o n i n g and their very constraint.
Moralists have often p o i nted out t h i s a n t i t h e s i s between t h e t w o concepts
of 'the g o o d ' and 'duty' which p resent t h e two d i ffe r e n t and equally real
aspects of moral life. "77
T h e desirability o f i n s t i t u t i o n s w a s dependent o n their provision of
viable ways a n d means of realizing values. Ideals fo rmed the soul o f legiti
mate i n s t i t u t i o n s . And such works as Moral Education made explicit the
relationship between the desirability of i n s t i t u t i o n s and the existence of
c o m m u n a l groups. T h r o u g h c o m m u n a l life, i n s t i t u t i o n alized activity ap
proached the i d e a l and t o o k on overtones of s p o n t a n e i t y and charismatic
elan. I n a sense, the d e s i r a b i l i ty o f i n s t i t u t i o n s w a s t o c o m m u n i t y as oblig
atory constraint was to differentiation and a sense o f legitimate l i m i t s .
In the "normal" s t a t e of society, there was no fatal antagonism, although
there might well be possibly creative tension, b e tween society and the in
d i v i d u a l . W i th reference to the relation between i n s t i t u t i onal n o r m a n d
organic n e e d , Durkheim argued t h a t discipline w a s " t h e means b y which
nature normally realizes itself and not the means o f reducing or destroy
ing i t . "78This non-ascetic i d e a m i tigated the antipathy b e tween mind and
body (homo duplex). More generally, Durkheim argued that there was no
"total antagonism which m a k e s t o t a l o r p a r t i a l abdication of his own nature
the price o f an individual's attachment to society. " On t h e contrary, "the

individual i s truly himself and able t o realize his own nature only i f h e at
taches himself to society." The individual's need for normative limits and
communal attachments was shown in D u rkheim's study o f suicide. Man was
more prone to kill himself when he was "detached from all collectivities"
and lived "more like an ego i s t . " 7 9
The nature of institutions in the normal state o f society was to com
bine a constraining sense of n o r mative limits with an i n t ernalized sense of
commitment. Their function was t o create m o r a l solidarity, which w a s , for
Durkheim, as vital to the life of the individual as i t was to the ordering o f
society. This notion of institutions in t h e normal state of society was implicit
tn Durkhei m's assertion, which has often been quoted out o f c o n t e x t :
Never has t h e qualification o f moral been a p p l i e d t o a n act which

has fo r its o b j e c t only the interest of t h e individual or t h e p e r fec
tion o f t h e individual u n d e rstood i n a p u rely egoistic m a n n e r. If t h e
individual who I a m d o e s n o t constitute a n end which h a s i n itself
a moral character, this is necessarily true also of individuals who are
my equals and who d i ffer fro m me only in degree. From this o n e
m a y conclude that, if there is a morality, i t can have as its o b j e ctive
only th e group fo r m e d by a plurality of individuals, i . e . , society,
under the condition t h a t society may b e considered as a p e rsonality
qualitatively distinct from the individuals who compose i t . 0
D u rkheim's m o d e o f expression was n o t devoid of ambiguity, a n d the

ambiguity was related to social metaphysic. But the relation of this argument
t o his theory of value can be clearly form ulated: Self-seeking, egoistic self
perfection (including the pleasures of the s e l f ) , or slavish subservience to
the particularistic interest o f another indivi dual, constituted aspects of social
pathology. For Durkheim, legitimate moral regulati o n depended upon the
existence of a conscience collective that was logically distinct fro m a sum
of atomistic individuals in that it was formed b y a desirable structure of
institutional norms and values.
In the "pathological" state of s o c i e ty, t h e nature and fu nction of insti
tutions changed, for they might be part o f t h e problem instead o f part of
the s o l u t i o n . In the pathological state, the social status quo distorted the
instinctual balance o f the "state of nature" and added newer dislocations of
Chapter 5 Theory and Practice 2 I5
its own. Anomie, especially in certain extremely deregulated areas of society

(such as modern economic life or international relations), converted culture
i n t o a lever for an infinite well of organic or more sublimated responses
that knew no limits. Man was prey to unlimited desire or t o the hunger fo r
power over others. Will, the spiritualized passion, was like desire in that
i t became unhinged when it was detached from rational commitment to
limiting norms. The concept of anomie confined to a specific sociologi
cal context the "state of nature" in H o b b es's sense: man was a wolf to his
neighbor because of the distrust and dislocation engendered by the absence
of substantively limiting norms. Anomie also revealed the way in which the
Freudian i d (as Freud realized) was not a purely organic fo rce but instead a
l i m i n a l , hybridized l o c u s of drives i m p e l l i n g an o rganism d i s o riented by a
certain state of s o c i e t y and culture.
One prominent aspect o f social p athology was (to use the well-known
phrase ofT. S. Eliot) a "dissociation of sensibility" - a dissociation which
Durkheim's own narrowly analytic tendencies a t times replicated. The cru
cial case of dissociation, which Durkheim transcended in his conception
of social n o r m a l i ty, was that between constra i n t and w h a t was desirable
in social life and in the personali ty. This dissociation might, fo r example,
b e seen i n the anomie contradiction b e tween institutions and the cultural
values or ideals which institutions were s u p p o s e d to e m b o dy. To the extent
that institutions were h o uses o f constraint alone, they were alienating and
o p p ressive. At most, they were obj ects o f ambivalent i n ternalization that
led to compulsive performance by "hollow men" internally divided against
themselves. Institutions that constrained w i t h o u t eliciting genuine c o m m i t
ment were soulless; they helped to instigate anomie i d e a l i s m , neoromantic
excess, and often misguided, even violent and putatively regenerative quests
for communitas in alienated segments o f society.
The contrast b e tween constraint and desirability was i n certain ways
similar to Weber's o p p o s i t i o n between bureaucratization and charisma.
Extreme b u reaucracy was a social form based upon constrai n i n g structu res
dissociated from
communitas. And the maximization of structure typically
fostered movements that tried to maximize communitas. Charismatic b reak
through involved n o t only the heroic virtuosity of the individual leader - a
trait which Web e r tended to overemphasize - b u t also the charismatic
communitas o f followers. Indeed, there was often a puzzling relationship
between anomie, communitas, and individualism i n radical movements.

And the maximization o f communitas typically gave way, in history, to the
"Thermidorian reaction" o f a maximization o f structure and constraint. As
we have already n o t e d , the successful revol u tion - o r t h e s u ccessful social
movement in general - according to Durkheim, was one that broke this
tragic cycle b y integrating constraining structure and "desirable" communitas
in the same ongoing social system.
Attempting to specifY his own vision of the i n t i m a t e bond between
constraint a n d desirability in the normal state of s o c i e ty, Durkheim h i m
self referred to H o b b e s and Sp encer. H o b b e s , recognizing the a n o m i e and
destructive nature o f dissociated spontanei ty, had b e c o m e the theorist of
i m p erative order and pure constraint. Rej e c t i n g a d e s p otic order based on
constraint alone, the u t i l i t arians and classical economists had come fo rth
as the theorists o f spontanei ty, often presenting "all collective discipline
as a s o r t of more or less tyrannical m i l i t a r i s m . " They fai l e d to s e e that "in
reali ty, when discipline is normal, when i t is everything it ought to be, i t
is entirely different. I t is b o th the s u m m i n g u p and t h e c o n d i t i o n o f all
c o m m o n l i fe , w h i c h m e a n s as m u c h in t h e hearts o f in dividuals as t h e i r
own lives . " 8 1 Theorists l i k e H o b b e s a n d Spencer o p t e d for o n e horn o f a
dilemma. B u t the p r o b l e m of legitimate social order could b e resolved only
b y eliminating the dilemma itself.
These words "constraint" and " s p o n t a n e i ty" do not have in o u r

terminology t h e meaning w h i c h Hobbes gives t o the fo rmer and
Spencer to the latter . . . . The principle we expound would create a
sociology which sees in the spirit of discipline the essential condition
of all common life, w h i l e a t the same t i m e founding i t o n reason
and o n truth.R2
Durkhei m's mature thought itself provided the t h e o retical tools to situate
and transcend the controversy t h a t earlier had divided Gabriel Tarde and
himself. Earli er, Durkheim seemed t o champion p u r e constraint and formal
obligation. Wo rking within the same over-all frame of reference, Tarde i n
equally one-sided fash i o n espoused t h e cause o f inner s p o n taneity a n d the
exceptional individual. Durkheim seemed to be the official advocate o f the
fo rmal, p u b l i c , external, "false" self, a n d Tarde the devil's advocate of the
nonconformist, private, inner, daring s e l f, which in modern French cultural
history h a d usually b e e n taken as the "real" self and the untouchable core
of the personality. Both, i n effect, had seized upon one dissociated element
of society and t h e personality in one type of social pathology. This context
did seem t o posit a total antipathy between society and t h e individual in
the fo rm of an o p p o s i t i o n between mass conformity a n d i n d i v i d u a l affir
mation i f not transgress i o n . But, in Durkheim's later conception o f social
normality, this d i c h o t o m y would be e l i m i n a t e d . G e n u i n e c o m m i t m e n t
would replace m a s s conformi ty. And, except i n the case of certain truly
exceptional individuals, t h e antagonism between self and society would b e
reduced t o marginal p r o p o rtions and perhaps assume more creative mean
ing for all concerned.
I t has already been observed that D u rkheim's concepts of social normality
and pathology did not go far beyond the p o i n t of tentative formulation. H i s
notion of social p athology especially suffered from inadequate theoretical
elaboration. A closer examination of Marx's thought - and o f Marx's own
use of Saint-Simon - would have been most informative. For example, some
distinction between pre-revolution ary, revolutionaty, and post-revolutionary
periods seemed necessaty. Durk heim himself seemed to believe t h a t revo
l u t i o n might b e inevitable when society found itself in a certain sort o f
structural b i n d . Revolution itself, he thought, was effective in i t s elimination
of certain vestiges of an old order, valuable i n the genesis of social ideals, and
generally unsuccessful i n the realization of i d e als in a new institutional order.
Revo lution appeared to b e on the b o rderline b etween social patho logy and
normali ty. Modern society - and especially his own France - seemed for
Durkheim to represent a post-revolutionary context that suffe red from an
afterbirth of disorientation and runaway change. Its pathology was in some
ways post-revolutionary. And this seemed to imply that i n modern society
violence would generally be self-defeating and that a different type o f social
action was mandatory. But precisely how these i d eas related to his conception
of normality and pathology and to other aspects of modern society - e.g.,
i ndustrialization - remained u n clear.
Let us return to Durkhei m's i d e a of the r e l a t i o n of t h e individual to
socie ty. At times D u rkheim was led b y b o th mechanistic dualism and an
emergent s o c i a l mystique to present a dissociated n o t i o n of the "whole
man" as a mere c o m p o s i t e of the organic and the social self. This tendency
was apparent in such i m p o r t a n t articles a s "Representations individu elles
et representations collectives" ("Individual Representations and Collec

tive Representatio n s , " 1 8 9 8 ) and " L e Dualisme de la nature humaine et
ses conditions sociales" ("The D u a l i s m of Human Nature and Its Social
Conditions," 1 9 1 4) . At other times, the m o r e dialectical o r relational aspect
o f his thought - while maintaining a primary e m p hasis u p o n collective
norms and shared symbols - led to a more complex conception o f the
individual t h a t resisted reducing h i m o r h e r to a mechanical c o m b i n a t i o n
o f a b o d i l y organism and a s o c i a l self. T h i s allowed D u r k h e i m t o provi d e
fur t h e r insight i n t o t h e q u e s t i o n o f t h e individual i n various types and
states of s o c i e ty.
At all t i m e s , t h e individual had a de facto cultural status that derived
u l t i m a tely fro m o n tological and epistemological s o u rces. " F rom the t i m e
there is consciousness, there i s a s u b j e c t w h o con ceives himself a s d i s t i n c t
fro m a l l that i s n o t himself - a s u b j e c t who says ' 1 . "' 8 3 T h e pathological
state of society carried t h e inevitable degree of existential tension between
the individual and society to unnecessary historical proportions. I n contrast,
the normal state of society maintained the degree of existential tension
that corresponded to the margin of anomie indeterminacy in the social
s t r u c t u r e . But i t c o m p l e m e n t e d a n d s u p p l e m ented this w i t h fo unding
social structures on consent. As early as Th e Division ofLabor, Our kheim
h a d asserted that "social life is spontaneous wh erever i t is normal, and i f
i t i s a b n o r m a l i t c a n n o t last."8 4 Consent, h o wever, was not i d e n tical w i t h
a s u m of ad hoc a c t s of i n d i v i d u a l w i l l . I t s p r i m a r y o b j e c t was a conscience
collective combining l i m i t i n g norms and c o m m u n a l values essential fo r
moral solidarity in s o ci ety.
A s p e c i fi c c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of m o d er n s o c i e t y was t h a t t h e conscz ence
collective itself in certain ways institut ionalized individualism as well as
a n o m i e . This b e c a m e pathogenic w h e n it reached the extreme of a t o m i s t i c
individualism and r u n away, unchecked excess. B u t there was a v a l i d c o r e
in modern l i b e r a l i s m . It was embodied in t h e i d e a of personal dignity a n d
individual r i g h t s . " H u m a n p e r s onality is a sacred t h i n g ; w e do not dare
violate it and hold o u rselves at a distance fro m the sanctuary of the person;
at the same time, the good par excellence is communion with another."85
The basic goal o f Durkheim's corporatism was t o establish a n o r m ative
triangle of c o m m u n i ty, individual rights, and state regulation under the
general guidance of universal, h u m a n e values.
Durkheim even furnished a rudimentary theory of the genesis of various

types of relationship between the individual and s o c i e ty. I n The Division
ofLabor, h e made reference to the "indetermination o f the conscience col
lective" i n m o d e r n soci ety. I n "primitive" societies, norms often had a ritual
articulation that directly structured concrete events. Durkheim's conception
of "primitive simplici ty," however, was itself s o m e w h a t s i m p l i s t i c : "The
very s i m p l i c i t y of moral practices makes them take the h a b i t u a l form of
automatism and, in these circumstances, automatism s u ffi ces. Since social
life is always the s a m e and differs little over space and t i m e , unselfcon
scious habit and tradition cover almost everything." Tradition m i g h t h ave
a prestige and a u t h o r i t y t h a t left little r o o m fo r reasoning and i n q u i ry. As
s o c i e t i e s b e c a m e m o re c o m p l e x , i t was "more diffi c u l t for m o ra l i t y to fu n c
t i o n through a purely automatic m e c h a n i s m . " In highly complex modern
societies, circumstances w e r e never identical, and norms had a conceptual
s t r u c t u r e t h a t required the exercise o f j u dgment i n their application t o
c o n c r e t e cases and events. Mo reover, s o c i e t y was i n " p e r p e t u a l evo l u t i o n . "
T h i s i m p l i e d t h a t m o r a l i ty h a d to b e "supple enough to b e transformed
when i t b e c a m e n e c essary. " T h e distance between c o n ceptual norm a n d
concrete event created a n i n terval o f indeterminacy i n moral life which
necessitated refl ection, personal r e s p o n s i b i l i ty, i n i ti a t i v e , a n d choice in
individuals. When anomie i n d e t e r m inacy was extreme, t h e "desire to get
ahead" might expose the individual t o "exci t a t i o n beyond all measure until
h e knows practically n o l i m i t s . " 86
When Durkheim spoke of the need fo r t h e "ritual attitude" of sacred
respect in modern society, he seemed to believe that the object o f this attitude
would b e norms and values autonomously accepted as legitimate. D u rkheim
did not envision a concrete ritualization o f modern life, except, perhaps, i n
periodic ritual contexts (whose nature h e d i d n o t really spe cify) . Moreover,
he argued that criticism w o u l d b e b o t h necessary a n d functional in a highly
complex social order. "The sacred character of morality ought n o t protect
it from criticism as it d i d i n t h e case o f r e l i gi o n . " 8 7 C o n s t ructive criticism
would no t impair basic commitments insofa r as they were rationally j u stifi
able. Indeed, it might serve as a "feed-b ack" mechanis m i n the application
of norms to concrete cases. With reference to one of Saint-Simon's disciples,
Durkheim observed: "What escaped Bazard i s that the further one advances
i n history, the more one sees the traits of the critical period prolonged i n t o
the organic p e r i o d . In fact, the m o r e cultivated a p e o p l e , the less does the

dogma that unifi es it b a r free examinati o n . Reflection, criticism exist next
t o faith, pierce that very faith without destroying it, and occupy an always
larger place in i t . " 8 8
The individual rights defended b y Durkheim included private property
as a material basis o f moral autonomy.
This individual liberty which is so dear to us s u p poses n o t only the

faculty to go about as we please; it implies the existence of a circle of
thi ngs which we may dispose o f as we will. Individualism would only
be a word if w e d i d not have a material sphere o f action in which we
exercise a sort o f soverei gnty. When one says that individual property
i s a sacred thing, one only states in symbolic fo rm an i n d u b i table
moral axiom; for individual p r o p erty is the material condition of the
cult of the individual.89
Durkheim related these ideas t o t h e notion that legitimate property in

modern society was i n c reasingly the property acquired b y t h e individual
through h i s own effo r t rather than through inheritance. He did not draw
the seemingly obvious i n ference that a certain m i n i m u m o f property was
necessary fo r all individuals i n a society based upon individual l i b e r t y and
increasing equality of o p p o r t u n i ty. He d i d have a conception of a ceiling
on p r o p e rty, but i t was quite moralistic. He interpreted t h e labor theory of
value as a concept of d istribu tive justice that required that individuals be rec
ompensed according to their social contributions. In this sense, distributive
j ustice might require stratification because o f the value system i n terms of
which functions and contributions were appraised. B u t counterbalancing
this idea was that of the norm of c o m m u n i ty, which required a certain
equalization of rewards. The concepts of distributive j ustice relative to d i f
fe rentiated fu nctions and of equality b ased on co m m unal values were a m o n g
t h e bases fo r D urkhei m's distinction between socialism and communism i n
Socialism. T h e i d e a t h a t Durkheim leaned m o r e toward communism than
toward socialism (which h e did not define in egalitarian terms) is in part
j ustified by his apparent conception of community as a higher principle
that b o t h mitigated the "ha rshness" of distribu tive j ustice a n d represented
its l i m i t i n g ideal in a "healthy" s o c i e ty. In a s t a te m e n t which was entirely
in keeping with his growing emp hasis on the i m p ortance of community in
all "normal" societies, he observed: "Charity [in the b i b l i c a l sense] is the

feeling of h u m a n sympathy freeing i tself fro m the l a s t inegalitarian con
siderations and effacing o r denying t h e particular merit of this final form
of heredity transmission - the transmission of mental cap aci ty. It is thus
only the apogee of j u s t i c e . " 9 0
Durkheim's n o t i o n o f t h e role of the individual i n society also recognized
aesthetic considerations. The response of the individual to shared norms and
values might involve imaginative creativity and uncommon sensitivity ab ove
and beyond the call of d u ty. Indeed, i n a mot i n the epigrammatic tradition
of t h e French moralistes, Durkheim asserted: "There are virtues which are
acts of madness, and i t is their madness which constitutes t h e i r gran deur."9 1
His central p o i n t here as elsewhere, h owever, was t h a t t h e d a i l y bread of
moral life was to be found in social practices and institutional norms in the
broadest sense. These deserved first-order attention before a discussion of
s u b j ective variations made sense.
In a word, we do not s u p p o r t the exclusive thesis t h a t moral life has

no individual aspect b u t that the social aspect is the principal part
and that one m u s t fi r s t investigate i t if one wishes to know what the
individual aspect consists of. I t is n o t a q u e s t i o n of denying one of
the two points o f view fo r the b e n e fi t o f the other, b u t of reversing
the order of p r i o r i ty ordinarily recognized b e tween them.92
T h u s , from Durkheim's perspective, the essential rationale fo r i n dividual

resistance t o social pressure was n o t individual opinion or self -assertion. It
was inf armed j u dgment that contrasted the existing state of society to the
way society ought to be.
The very principle of rebellion i s the same a s t h e principle o f con

fo rmism. An individual conforms to the true nature of society when
h e obeys traditional morality. And he conforms to the true nature of
society when he rebels against this morality . . . . In the moral realm
as i n all other realms of nature, the reason o f the individual is n o t
privileged b e cause i t i s t h e reason o f t h e individual. T h e only reason
fo r which one may legitimately, here as elsewhere, claim the right
to intervene and to elevate oneself above historical moral reality in
order to reform i t is not m y reason or y o u r s ; it is impersonal, human
reason, which i s truly realized only i n science . . . . What I oppose to
the collectivity is t h e collectivity itself; b u t more and better conscious

of i tselL 93
In the context of Durkh eim's concepts of normality and pathology, the

idea expressed somewhat a m b i g u o usly in t h e quoted passage can be more
clearly formulated: The individual had the right and duty to oppose a patho
logical state of s o c i e ty. But h e or she d i d this, n o t in his o r her own interest,
but i n the interest o f furthering the emergence of a normal or desirable state
of socie ty. D urkheim's extreme mode of affirmation at times seemed to deny
that there was any s u bjectivity or even individual agency i n this action, even
in t h e making of a committed decisi o n . B u t his essential purpose was to deny
t h a t there was a purely "perspectiva l , " decisionist, or subjectivist position
in m o r a l i ty. Instead, he affirmed m o rality t o b e scientific, i n t h e sense that
i t involved rational argument about obj e c tive considerations. Nowhere else
did Durkheim come closer to a sociological reformulation of the i d e a of
natural law. He contended that, at the very least, one could reason a b o u t
value j udgments and t h a t a sociol ogical conception o f the p r o b l e m gave
content to t h e reaso n i n g process. Essential to morality was t h e c o n s e nsually
accepted norm and value that created solidarity in society. One's awareness of
the validity o f the "normal" state endowed moral action with an overriding
goal - the creation or maintenance o f social "normali ty. "
One dimension o f D urkheim's conception of the relation b e tween society
and the i n dividual deserves special mention. In time, Durkheim provided
so m e i n s ight i n t o the problem of psych o p a t h o l ogy. I n h is early t h o u g h t , h i s
desire t o establish a methodo logically autonomous fo u n d a t i o n fo r sociology
led him to emphasize the distinctions between sociology and psycholo gy.
Later, h e broached the problem of social psychology. H e also touched at
least peripherally o n the problem of the relation between normality and
p a t h ology in society and the personali ty.
In The Rules and elsewhere, Durkheim observed t h a t social no rmality
and psychological n o r m ality were not identical concepts.94 Social normal
i t y and pathology were related to t h e nature and fu nctioning of social
structures. Psychological normality was a type o f social conformi ty, and
psychopathology amounted to a type o f social deviance. The normal society
would contain a marginal number of psych o p a thological individuals, j ust
as i t would contain a marginal number of other types o f "deviants" (includ-
ing idealists and creative exceptions as well as criminals). 11 a pathological

state of society, the extreme structural faults in t h e organization o f social
life would give rise to a distorted rate o f psychopathology.
il Vol ume I V of the An nee sociologique, Durkheim u s e d the title "Mad
ness as a Social Fact." In a book review, he argued t h a t "social states are
reflected in mental alienation" and o b served that rates o f psychopathology
varied with social context.95 As might b e expected, Durkheim was more
suggestive on the level o f s tructural causation t h a n h e w a s on that o f psy
chological descrip t i o n or analysis. Nor did he investigate the shifts i n the
very meaning of psychopathological phenomena w i t h changing sociocultural
states and contexts in the richly suggestive manner of Michel Foucault.96
B u t h e d i d see t h e p o s s i b i l ity of a study which would t r e a t madness in t h e
same manner i n which h e h a d treated suicide. I n Suicide i tself, Durkheim
discussed the psychological manifestations o f anomie anxiety and egoistic
withdrawal. In examining the psychology of egoism, h e underscored the
possibility o f a schizoid split between inner and outer reali ty.
I n turning away from t h e external world, consciousness folds i n

u p o n itself, takes i t s e l f a s i t s own u n i q u e o b j e c t , a n d u n dertakes a s i t s
p r i n c i p a l t a s k self- o b servation and self-analysis. B u t b y t h i s extreme
concentration it merely deepens the chasm dividing it from the rest
o f the u n i verse . . . . If it i n d i vidualizes i tself beyond a certain p o i n t ,
if i t separates itself t o o radi cally fro m other b eings, men o r things, i t
fi nds itself u n a b l e t o communicate w i t h t h e very source o f its normal
nourishment and n o longer has anything to which i t can apply itself.
I t creates nothi ngness within b y creating i t w i t h o u t , and has n o t h i n g
left to refl ect b ut its own misery. I t s only remaining o b j e c t of thought
is i ts i n n e r n o t h i n gness and t h e r e s u l t i n g melanch oly.97
Hence a certain type o f narcissism eventuated in melancholic isolation

or, at the limit, nihilism. O n e conclusion that Durkheim himself did not
draw was that the concept of psych o p a thol ogy w a s methodologically easier
to apply b u t p h i l o s o p h i cally more d u b i o u s t h a n h i s own c o n c e p t o f s o c i a l
pathology. 98 As a form of social deviance, psycho pathology often s e e m e d
to b e readily d e t e c t a b l e . B u t i t s relation to other i s s u e s , such as c r i m i n a l
responsibility, m i g h t b e p r o b l e m a t i c , a n d i t s very availability made tempting
an identification of all unusual phenomena as psychologically aberrant. The
notion of social pathology was more d i fli cult to define. This difficulty, as
well as i d e ological reasons, m a y explain the ill r e p u t e o f the concept among
social scientists in contrast with the b e t t e r fo rtune of psychopathology. Ye t
from a philosophical viewpoint, Durkheim's concept of social pathology had
a stronger critical basis and was, in a sense, logically prior. From Durkheim's
perspective, it w o u l d seem that the normal person would have to b e con
ceived normatively with reference to the normal society. He or she would
b e the person who lived i n accordance with m e a n i ngfu l, legitimate norms,
applying them with the requisite flexibility and harboring w i t h i n him- or
herself a marginal leaven of anomie. He or she would b e a "conformist" in
a very special sense of the term. And even in the normal state o f society,
t h e ideo logical "deviant" would n o t b e unequivocally in the wrong. I n fact,
Durkheim seemed to attribute a greater causal importance to the exceptional
individual in the normal state of soci ety, fo r in this context individual hybris
w o u l d correspond to the element of possibly creative a n o m i e i n experience.
And it would bear a more positive relation to society as a whole: it would
evoke a shared sense of the possible or, conceivably, t h e tragic which ritual
a n d other symbolic fo rms would simultaneously heighten and m i tigate. T h e
right kind o f social integration would itself help save the creative exception
from extreme psychopathology.
In the pathological state o f soci ety, the unquestioning conformist might
retain some semblance o f mental balance at the price of f urthering disin
tegrating fo rces i n society a t large. The person w i t h a psychopathological
adaptation might be more o r less off course than the conforming sociopath:
h e o r she might experience i n exaggerated fo rm the causes of anxiety in
society or reveal i n o b l i q u e and distorted fashion the symbolic bases o f
social normality missing i n t h e status q u o . (Thus o n e might suggest that
the schizophrenic lived in limiting fo rm the dualism b etween inner self
a n d outer reality; the comp ulsive neurotic performed rituals which had lost
their way.) Durkheim never gave t o his own conception o f social psychol
ogy and its relation t o the individual a truly c o n v i n c i n g fo rm u l a t i o n , a n d
I have extended h i s thought i n a certain direction. Despite t h e dangers o f
over-interpretation, i t m i g h t n o t b e stretching h i s thought t o o far t o see i t
a s tending toward a cultural conception o f psychopathology t h a t provided
the basis fo r a critique of the very concept of "mental illness." For within
the framework o f h i s thought, the very category o f mental illness might well
appear as a defensive response t o disconcerting and dangerous phenomena

i n a formally rational, bureaucratized society which had good institutional
reasons to fear fo r i t s own social sani ty. In this sense, a different apprecia
tion of certain phenomena would itself require their limited status and their
insertion i n t o a significantly d i fferent sociocultural context.99
The central point is t h a t D u r kheim's idea o f the relation of sociology to
moral philosophy was based upon the coordinate axes o f his thought: the tree
of social life and the concepts of normality and pathology. The distin ctive
task of the c o m p arative m e t h o d was to arrive at types that did n o t go to
m u t ually reinfarcing extremes: the nominalism of traditional historiography
and the extreme realism and q u e s t for universals of traditional philosophy.
Toward t h e e n d o f h is life, h owever, Durkheim t u r n e d t o t h e concern w i t h
h u m a n nature t h a t characterized traditional philosophy. T h i s concern was
central to his Elementary Forms. From D urkhei m 's sociological and cultural
perspective, the concept of human nature could be reformulated: " h u m a n
nature" referred t o t h e possibilities o f symb o l i c experience corresp onding
to the trunk o f the tree o f social lif e. These possibilities could take normal
o r pathol ogical fo r m .
I n t h e m o s t general terms, what characterized t h e normal society? First
and forem o s t , i t was based upon a conscience collective that embodied a
tense balance of i n s t i t u t i onal norms and cultural symbols. The core of the
conscience collectivewas a variant of practi cal reason which D urkheim termed
!a morale, or t h e collective type. In their application t o concrete events by
average individuals, the norms and values o f the conscience collective suffered a
"falling off" fro m ideal p e rfe c t i o n . To ask more of ordinary social life would
be to fall prey to anomie i d e alism, fanatically d emanding p erfection from
all people at all times. But to revitalize social life and t o remind members
of society i n a dramatically forceful way of their obligation to show sacred
respect fo r shared values, special "ritual" activities were n e cessary. In ritual,
the conscience collective was perform atively expressed and regenerated in
i n t e n se a n d purified fo rms t h a t transcended t h e i n evitable compromi ses
of everyday life. And through ritual, communitas w o u l d be instituti onally
realized and controlled. The normal society would also contain a dynamic
leaven of a n o m i e - including more anomie displays o f communitas. B u t
anomie would b e limited t o a marginal aspect o f t h e average personality and
to marginal or liminal groups in society. Either extreme o f the bell-shaped
curve of moral practice w o u l d reveal marginal categories of culture-bearing

idealists (or perfecti o n i s t deviants) at one end and of criminal deviants at
the o ther. I n the n o r m a l society, deviants presenting ideological challenges
to the existing order m i g h t attain ritual status and, invested with ambivalent
sacred values, become the objects o f dangerous fascination.
The fu nction of the conscience collective in t h e normal state o f society
was t o s t r i k e a viable b alance between structure and communitas the -
dual b ases o f solidarity in s o c iety. Objective and internalized at the same

t i m e , the conscience collective w o u l d create a meani ngful sense of legitimate
l i m i t s . "All l i fe . . . i s a complex e q u i l i b r i u m whose diverse elements l i m i t
one ano ther, and t h i s e q u i l i b r i u m c a n n o t b e broken w ithout suffering and
sickness." 10 C o m m o n to the b i o l ogical organism and society was a structure
whose normal fu nctioning depended on a dynamic e q u i l i b r i u m o f m u t u
ally limiting parts. T h e elementary postulate of Durkheim's p h i l o s o p h y was
the finite nature of all lif e. Indeed, one interesting aspect of his naturalistic
metaphors represen ting his understanding o f society w a s the mediation of
the dualism between nature and society, matter and mind, which another
t e n dency o f his thought affi r m e d in extreme fo r m . One may detect here a
cosmological undercurrent that was m o r e expansive than his social meta
physic. M oreover, D u rkheim in time became sensitive to the dangers of
excessive formal rationality and constraint as principles of social l i fe; t h i s
sensitivity c o i n c i d e d w i t h h i s growing awareness of the n e e d for significant
c o m m u n i t y in all society and h i s sense of t h e i m p o rtance of the content
of norms and values. One of h i s criticisms of Kant was of his predecesso r's
fai lure to recognize that all human nature required l i m i tation, " o u r rational
nature as well as our passionate nature." " O u r reason i s not a transcendental
faculty. It is part of the world and, consequently, i t must follow the law of
the world. The universe i s l i m i t e d , and all limitation presupposes forces
which l i m i t . " 1 0 1 Hence D u rkheim socialized a finite conception of reason
and brought it into sustained contact with social problems.
In his early thought, D u rkheim saw little future fo r religion i n modern
soci ety. With the expansion of his concept of reason, his view of the future of
religion changed. H e came t o argue that a ritual attitude of sacred respect was
at the r o o t of all commitments and that periodic, fe stive r i t u a l observances
would b e necessary to revive and reinvigorate these commi tments. Hence the
modern scientific and critical conscio usness seemed to require a newer defini-
tion of the relationship b e tween faith and reason. For Durkheim, moreover,
the basic nexus existed, not b e tween religion, the radically transcendent,
and the categorical imperative, b u t b e tween religion, i deal yet this-worldly
practices (including ritual), and communal spon taneity. The sacred did n o t
serve primarily t o enforce t h e strictness o f obligations; i t seemed t o enable
one to overcome a sense of compulsion by making social norms desirable and
even giving people a feeling of being at home in t h e world. " I t is far fro m
t r u e t h a t t h e notion of t h e imp erative i s t h e t r u e characteristic of t h e religious
side of morality. O n the con trary, one could show that the more a morality
i s essentially religious, the more the idea o f obligation i s effaced . " 1 02 Here
Durkheim did relate religion to the overcomi ng, o r a t least the mitigation,
of tragic antipathies in human existence.
With the idea o f t h e potential of community and the sacred in modern
socie ty, D u rkheim at least partially re-evaluated the nature o f myth and its
relation to reas on. H e seemed to imply that, insofar as myth d i d not c o n
t r a d i c t t h e substantive r a t i o n a l i t y o f the conscience collective, i t m i g h t well
serve to convey fo rms of understanding which complemented or s u p p l e
mented literal truth.
There i s and there w i l l always b e a p l a c e i n s o c i a l l i fe for a form of

t r u t h w h i c h w i l l perhaps express itself in secular fo r m b u t which will,
despite everything, have a mythological and religious fo undation. For
a long t i m e t o c o m e , t h e r e w i l l b e t w o tendencies i n every society: a
tendency toward objective a n d s c i e n t i fi c truth a n d a t e n d e n cy toward
truth seen fro m the inside, or my thological t ru t h . 1 0 1
A problem with mythologies i n a state of social pathology was t h a t they

often i n tensified unn ecessary contradictions and destructive forces that
outraged reason instead o f compensating for its necessary defects. Liberated
from rational con trol, myth and ritual gravitated toward irrationality and
maniacal agitation, which might include a quest for regeneration through
quasi-sacrifi cial violence. The basic goal of D u rkheim's thought was to retain
rationality and the modern critical consciousness while opening society to
repressed or avoided forms of h uman experience. The attempt to reconsider
the sacred and assess its possible role in a revitalized modern society was one
of the basic m o tivations of D u rkheim's masterpiece, The Elementmy Forms
of the Religious Life.
Notes
1. Review of Gaston Richard, Le Socialisme et Ia science sociale, Revue phi

losophique IV ( 1 8 9 7 ) , 20 1 .
2. First given as a lecture course i n 1 8 9 5 - 1 8 9 6 , this study was published
posthumously i n 1 92 8 as Le Socialisme (Paris: Alcan ) . An English trans
lation by Charlotte Sattler has been published with an introduction by
Alvin Gouldner: Socialism (New Yo rk: Collier Books, 1 96 2 ) . The first
translation was under the title Socialism and Saint-Simon (Yellow Springs,
Ohio: Antioch Press, 1 9 5 8 ) . References througho ut are to the Collier
Books edition.
3. Socialism, p. 4 0 .
4. Ibid. , p . 4 1 .
5. Ibid. , p. 1 4 2 .
6. Ibid. , p . 1 44 .
7. Ibid. , p. 1 24.
8. " L a Sociologie en France au X!Xe siecle," Revue bleue, 4th series, X I I I
( 1 9 0 0 ) , 6 1 1 -6 1 2 .
9. Ibid. , p. 6 1 2 .
1 0. Socialism, p. 2 3 3 .
11. Ibid. , p. 2 3 8 .
1 2. !bid. , p . 2 4 5 .
1 3. !bid. , p . 5 4 .
1 4. !bid. , p p . 47-48.
1 5. !bid. , p . 4 8 .
1 6. Ibid. , p . 4 9 .
17. Ibid. , p . 5 8 .
18. Ibid. , p p . 5 9 - 6 0 .
1 9. Ibid. , p . 5 8 .
20. "Cours d e science sociale: Leon d'ouverture , " Revue internationale de
l'enseignement, XV ( 1 8 8 8 ) , 3 3 .
21. Les Regles de Ia methode sociologique ( 1 5 t h e d . ; Paris: Presses U niversitaires
de France, 1 96 3 ) , p. 1 3 2 .
22. Les Formes elbnentaires de Ia vie religieuse (4th ed . ; Paris: Presses U niver
sitaires de France, 1 96 0 ) , p. 5 .
23. F o r an acco u n t o f t h i s discussion, s e e H . Stuart Hughes, The Obstructed
Path (New Yo rk: Harper & Row, 1 96 8 ) , chap. i i . For the attitude of a
contemporary historian, see Lucien Febvre, Combats pour l'h istoire (Par i s :
C o l i n , 1 9 5 3 ) , pp. 422-423. S e e also Laurent Mucciolli, La Decouverte du
social: naissance de Ia sociologie en Fr a nce (1 870- 1914) (Paris: Editions de

Ia Decouverte, 1998).
24. "La Sociologie en France au XIXe siecle," p. 648.
25. "La Science positive d e I a morale e n Allemagne ," Revue philosophique,
XXIV (1887), 282.
26. "Introduction a I a sociologie de I a famille," Ann ales d e Ia Faculte de Lettres
de Bordeaux, 1888, p. 262.
27. Regles de Ia methode sociologique, p. 110.
28. La Sociologie e t son domaine scientifique" (first pub. 1900); in Armand
Cuvillier, Oit v a Ia sociologiefranfaise? (Paris: Librairie Marcel Riviere, 1953 ),
pp. 181-182. See also Emile Durkheim and P. Fauconnet, "Sociologie et
sciences sociales," Revue philosophique, LV {1903), 481.
29. "Sociologie et sciences sociales," p p. 486-487.
30. 1896-1897; in Kurt Wolff, ed., Essays onSociologyand Philosophy(firstpub.
1960; New York: Harper & Row, 1964), pp. 342-343.
31. "Sociologie e t sciences sociales" (not the same article as the one written
with P. Fauconnet), in De Ia methode dans les s cience s (Paris: Alcan, 1909),
pp. 281-282.
32. ibid., p. 280.
33. Annie sociologique, I V {18991900), 124-125. For an excellent analysis of
Durkheim's conception of the relation of history and sociology, see Rob
ert N. Bellah, "Durkheim and History," in Robert A. Nisbet, ed., Emile
Durkheim (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1965), pp. 153-176.
3 4. L'Evolution pedagogique en France, In trod b y Maurice Halbwachs (2 voIs.;
Paris: Alcan, 1938).
35. See Emile Our kheim, Sociologie et philosophie (Paris: Presses U niversitaires
de France, 1963), pp. 42-43.
36. Bulletin de Ia Societe Franfaise de Philosophie, session of May 28, 1908
(Paris: Colin, 1908), p. 230.
37. Socialism, pp. 158-160.
38. ibid.
39. "Introduction a Ia morale," Revue philosophique, LXXX IX (1920), 89.
40. /_'Evolution pedagogique en France, l I, 199.
41. Ibid., pp. 95,124, 158-159.
42. "La Sociologie et son domaine scientifique," pp. 189-190.
43. L'Education morale (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1963 ) , p. 41.
44. "Jugements de valeur et jugements de realite," in Sociologie et philosophie,
p. 133. The essay was first given orally before the I n ternational Congress of
Philosophy at Bologna and published in 1911 in the Revue de metaphysique
et de morale.
230 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist a12d Philosopher
45. Sociologie etphilosophie, p p . 1 3 3 - 1 3 4 .

46. Leons de sociologie (Paris: Presses Universitaires d e France, 1 9 50) , p. 78
(trans. under the tide Professional Ethics and Civic Morals) .
47. Le Suicide (Paris: Presses U niversitaires de France, 1 96 0 ) , p. 447. One may
note the similarity ofDurkheim's ideas to those ofTocgueville in his A12cie12
regime.
48. Le Suicide, p . 437.
49. Socialt"sm, p. 437.
50. L e Suicide, p . 4 3 6 .
51. Leo12s de sociologie, pp. 2 5 0 - 2 5 1 . Durkheim saw i n inheritance a general
characteristic that could be used for the objective classification of types of
kinship. " I f one tries to distinguish and classifY different types of the family
according to the literary descriptions of travelers and, at times, historians,
one is in danger of confounding the most different types. I f, o n the con
trary, one takes as the basis of classification the j uridical constitution of the
family and especially the right of inheritance, one has an obj ective criterion
which, without being infallible, nonetheless obviates many errors" (Regles
de la methode sociologique, p . 4 5 ) .
52. Educatio12 et sociologie (Paris: Alcan, 1 92 2 ) , p . 5 1 .
53. "La Famille conjugale," Revue philosophique, XCI ( 1 9 2 1 ) , 1 0 .
54. Le Suicide, p p . 427-42 8 .
55. Preface to 2d ed., De L a Divisio12 du travail social (7th e d . ; Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1 96 0 ) , pp. ii-iii.
56. Ibid. , p p . vii-viii.
57. Ibid. , P X.
58. Ibid.
59. Ibid. , p . xvi.
GO. " 1 t i s far fro m a fact that the corporation had retained i n the eighteenth
century the beneficial effects it had in the Middle Ages. The line of demar
cation between masters and workers was sharp . . . . Just as the bo urgeo is
scorned the artisan, the latter scorned the worker who had no apprentice"
(Socialr'sm, p. 1 03 ) .
GI. Divisio12 du travail social, pp. xvi, xi.
62. Ibid. , p . xxix n .
63. re Suicide, p . 437.
64. !bid. , p . 439.
65. Ibid. , p . 442.
GG. Leons de sociologie, p p . 1 08 ff.
67. Mmztesquieu a 12 d Rousseau: Foreru1212ers ofSociology, trans. Ralph Manheim,
Foreword by Henri Peyre (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1 96 0 ),
Chapter 5 Theory and Practice 23 I
pp. 22-23. Durkheim traced one line of French social thought leading
fro m Montesquieu and Ro usseau through Saint-Simon and Comte to
himself and his school. It is interesting to contrast this tradition with the
less optimistic strand leading fro m Montesquieu through To cqueville and
Comte to thinkers like Raymond Aro n . On To cqueville see my History
and Reading: Tocquevifle, Foucault, French Studies (Toronto: University of
Toronto Press, 2000), chap. 2 .
68. Le Suicide, p . 449.
69. Division du travail social, pp. xi-xii.
70. Le Suicide, p . 43 8 .
71. Socialism, p p . 6 1 , 6 2 , 247.
72. George Simpson, lntrod. to Emile Durkheim, The Division of Labor in
Society, trans. George Simpson (New Yo rk: Macmillan, 1 93 3 ) , p . xxvi i. See
also the interpretation of George Catlin, In trod. to Emile Durkheim, The
Rules of Sociological Method, trans. Sarah A . Solovay and John H . Mueller
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1 9 3 8 ) .
73. Lerons de sociofogie, pp. 90-9 1 .
74. An nie sociofogique, X ( 1 90 5 - 1 906) , 3 5 4 .
75. Quoted i n Montesquieu and Rousseau, p . 8 8 .
76. Education morale, p . 3 6 .
77. Regfes de fa methode sociofogique, pp. xx-xx i, n . 2.
79. Ibid. , p . 5 8 .
80. Sociologie et phifosophie, p. 5 2 .
81. Lerons de sociologie, p . 3 6 .
82. Regfes de fa methode sociofogique, p . 1 2 3 .
84. Division du travail social, p . 1 8 0 .
85. Sociologie etphilosophie, p . 5 1 . Durkheim did not see how dignity was a goal
of social action that could neither be simply assumed as a given nor postu
lated in an unqualified manner. Events such as the First Wo rld War, not to
mention later events such as the Holocaust, as well as "everyday" occurrences
in the treatment of others, like child abuse and wife battering, make the
simple assumption of dignity open to question. And the exclusionary use
of dignity with respect to women and people of color, along with its role
in denigrating nonhuman animals, render suspect any unqualified or abso
lute affirmation of dignity. Moreover, one would have to inquire critically
into the idealist functions of dignity to construe as inferior or even abject
certain activities (such as sex) or parts of the body (what Mikhail Bakhtin
referred to as "the lower body stratum") . And dignity would legitimately
be contested as a value by t h e grotesque, t h e carnivalesque, and even t h e

vulgar. Is there, fo r example, a genuinely fu nny joke that is dignifi ed?
86. Education morale, p p . 4 5 , 1 2 9 , 42-43.
87. Sociologie etphilosophie, p. 69.
88. Socialism, p. 2 5 8 .
89. Lefons de sociologie, p . 2 0 2 .
90. Ibid. , p . 2 5 8 .
91. Sociologie et philosophie, p. 1 2 5 .
92. Review of Alfred Fouillee's Les Elbnents sociologiques de Ia morale, Gustave
Belot's En quete d'une morale positive, and Adolphe Landry's Principes de
morale rationnelle, i n An nee sociologique, X ( 1 90 5 - 1 906), 3 6 1 .
93. Sociologie etphilosophie, pp. 9 5 - 9 6 .
94. Regles de Ia methode sociologique, p . 6 6 . See also "Crime et sante sociale,"
Revue philosophique, XXX ( 1 8 9 5 ) , 5 2 3 .
95. Review ofG . A . Duprat's Les Causes sociales de Ia folie, inAnnee sociologique,
IV ( 1 899- 1 900), 475-476.
96. See M i chel Foucault, L'Histoire de Ia folie a l'!ige classique (Paris: Pion,
1 9 6 1 ) and R. D. Laing, The Divided Self ( first pub. 1 9 60; Baltimore:
Pengui n Books, 1 96 5 ) . Laing provides a sensitive phenomenological de
scription of schizoid and schizophrenic dissociation of the personality i n
response t o double b inds and a state o f " o n tological" insecuri ty. The most
obvious deficiency i n Laing's thought is the absence of an adequate soci
ological dimension both in explaining the genesis of psychopathological
p henomena and in proposing reforms. Except for his investigation of the
"schizophrenogenic" family, his conception of society is disappointingly
vague. On the level of reform, Laing came to advocate what might be
called a mind-blasting technique. He looked to the psycho pathological
experience itself under controlled conditions as a deviant fo rce that can
shake people loose from mad conformity in a pathological society. As a
social solution, the dubiousness of this proposal is evident. In addition,
the basically private or, at most, small-scale communal approach of Laing
did not address itself to the problem of large-scale social transformation
affecting major institutions. In o n e dimension of his complex account,
Foucault was more relevant fo r a sociological and hi storical understanding
of madness. On Foucault's h i story of madness, see my History and Reading:
Tocqueville, Foucault, French Studies, chap. 3 .
97. Le Suicide, pp. 3 1 4 -3 1 5 .
98. Freud made a similar point. See h i s Civilization and Its Discontents, trans,
J. Riviere (London: Hogarth Press , 1 9 5 3 ), pp. 1 4 1 - 1 42 : "If the evolution
of civilization has such a far-reaching similarity with t h e develo pment of an
Chapter 5 Them_y and Practice 233
individual, and if t h e same methods are emp loyed in both, would not the
diagnosis be justified that many systems of civil i zation - o r epochs of i t
- possibly even the whole o f humanity have become 'neurotic' under the
pressure of the civilizing trends? To analytic dissection of these neuroses,
therapeutic recommendations might fo llow which would claim a great
practical i n terest . . . . The diagnosis of collective neurosis, moreover, will be
confronted by a special difficulty. In the neurosis of an individual we can
use as a starting point the contrast presented to us between the patient and
his environment which we assume to be 'normal. ' No such backgro und as
this would b e available for any society similarly affected; i t would have to be
supplied in some other way. And with regard to any therapeutic application
of our knowledge, what would b e the use of the most acute analysis of social
neuroses, since no one possesses the power to compel t h e community to
adopt the therapy? In spite of all these difficulties, we may expect that one
day someone will venture upon this research into the pathology of civilized
communities." The " b ackgro und" fo r the analysis of social pathology was,
according to Durkheim, to be fo und in comparative studies and the inves
tigation of the relation of conditions, institutional structures, and cultural
values. One of the "uses" of this type of d i agnosis would be in furthering
legitimate critique and practice, including the critical understanding of
"mental illness" and of the role of those who do have the power or influence
to enforce conformity in a significantly patho logical sociocul tural context.
On the "therapeutic" level of social reform, Durkheim was less adequate
and only intimated the potential and dangers of various forms of political
action. For a sometimes simplistic development in a direction comparable
to that of Durkheim but within the Freudian tradition, see the works of
Erich Fromm, especially The Sane Society.
99. A similar in terpretation is applied to the tho ught o f Marcel Mauss by
Claude Levi-Strauss in his very im portant i n troduction to Mauss's Sociologie
et anthropologie (first pub. 1 9 5 0 ; Paris: Presses Universitaires de France,
1 9 6 8 ) , pp. xviii-xxii. Even Michel Foucault, in his early, excellent Maladie
mentale et psychologie (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1 9 5 4 ) , com
mits the error of identifying Durkhei m's concept of social pathology with
psych opathology and mental i l lness ( p . 7 5 ) . Within the Amzee school, the
problem of the relationship between social patho logy and psychopathology
was explored by Maurice Halbwachs in les causes du suicide (Paris: Alcan,
1 9 3 0 ) . And the problem was a central concern in the work of Charles
Blonde!.
1 00 . Education morale, p . 3 4 .
1 0 1 . Ibid. , p p . 9 5 - 9 6 .
1 02. Sociologie et philosophie, p . 1 02.

I 03 . Pragmatisme et sociologie, e d . and I n tro d . b y Armand Cuvillier (Paris: Li
brairie P h i losophique J . Vri n , 1 9 5 5 ) , p. 1 84; reconstructed from students'
notes fo r a course given in 1 9 1 3- 1 9 1 4.
6
The Sacred and Society
A seeking, a searching.
To seek w h i t h e r ?
To s e a r c h t h e l a n d , t o s e e k t h e origin,
To seek out t h e base, to s e a r c h out t h e unknown,
To s e e k out t h e atua [spiri t ] .
May i t b e effe c t u a l .
- A M a o r i diviner's s p e l l
By c o m m o n a c c o r d , The Elementa ry Forms of the Religious Lift i s

D u r kheim 's m o s t a m b i t i o u s w o r k . But c o n s e n s u s d i s i n tegrates i n t h e eval
uation o f D urkheim's achievement. M o s t scholarly o p i n i o n falls s o m ewhere
b e tween the two extremes represented b y the reactions of Robert Lowie and
Tal c o t t Parsons. Lowie condemned D u rk h e i m with fain t praise: " W h i l e by
no means i n clined to j o i n in the paeans of praise that have been intoned i n
D u rkheim's hon or, I repeat t h a t h i s essay i s a n o t e w orthy m e n t a l exercise
and would rank as a landmark if dialectic ingenuity s u ffi c e d t o achieve
greatness in the e m p i r i c a l sciences." 1 Parsons, on the o t h e r hand, praised
D u rk h e i m with b u t fai n t reserva t i o n :
W h i l e o s t e n s i b l y s t u d y i n g o n l y a narrowly t e c h n i c a l e m p irical
material which might be t h o u g h t t o b e of l i t t l e general i n terest, he
manages to make it the vehicle fo r u n u s u ally far-reaching theoretical
reasoning. S o , while Les formes elr!mentaires de la vie religieuse is i n
o n e aspect a technical monograph o n Aust ralian t o t e m i s m , i t i s at
the same time o n e of the few m o s t i m p o rtant works on sociological
t h e ory . . . . In fac t only w h e n a monograph i s a t t h e same t i m e an es
say in theory can it be the highest type of e m p i r i cal s t u dy. D u r k h e i m
had the faculty of c o m b i n i n g the t w o aspects in a way that provided
m o d els for future s o ciologists. Unfo r t u n a tely, i t is u n likely t h a t

m any w i l l a t t a i n this preeminence in the c o m b i n a t i o n . 2
T h e r e i s more t o t h i s diffe rence of views t h a n t h e standard o p p o s i t i o n

between t h e e m p i r i c a l fi eldworker a n d t h e theoretical c o n c e p t b ui l d er.
B o th b e c a u s e i t carried p r o m i n e n t tendencies o f D ur k h e i m i a n s o c i o l ogy
to their extreme logical conclusion and b e c a u s e i t exacerb ated the per
manent a m b i g u i t i e s of D urkheim's thought, The Elementary Fo rms has
lent itself, not only t o contradictory eval u a t i o n s , b u t also t o divergent
i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s . Its argu m e n t m e rged various c u r r e n t s o f thought i n t o an
en com passing, o c e a n i c fo rm of discourse that at times seemed to subvert
d i fferen ces among scient i fi c theory, mythol ogy, a n d p h i l o s o phy. Thus the
i n i t i a l problem is how to come t o terms w i t h this singular work - this
almost sacred text - wh i c h has h a d the power to allure and repel at the
s a m e time. Instead of tracing Durkhe i m's p o i n t s in the exact order i n
w h i c h h e m a d e t h e m , I b e l i eve i t i s a n a l y t i c a l l y useful t o approach
The
Elementary Forms under three overlapping b u t distinct headings: the theory
o f religion, s o c i o logical e p i s t e m o l ogy, a n d s o c i a l m e t ap hysic. I n this way,
o n e m a y a t t e m p t to grasp the n a t u r e of the argument as a whole, i t s p l a ce
i n D u r kheim's t h o u g h t , and i t s relation to the s h a p e of m o d e r n c u l t u r e
a n d D u r k h e im's refo r m i s t h o p e s .
The Theory ofReligion
By the t i m e he wrote The Elementary Fo rms, Durkheim was convinced

that religion was the matrix of civilization and the pre-eminent form of social
life. In a preface t o the Annie sociologique, he explained why socio logy shou ld
accord p riority t o religion in its i nvestigation o f culture and society:
Religion contains in itself fro m the very beginning, even i f i n an

indistinct state, all the elements which, i n dissociating themselves
from it, articulating themselves, a n d c o m b i n i n g with one another
in a thousand ways, have given r i s e to the various manifestations of
collective life . From myths and legends have issued fo rth science and
poetry; from religious ornamentations and cult ceremonials have come
the plastic arts; from ritual practice were born law and morals. O n e
Chapter 6 The Sacred and Society 237
cannot understand our perception of the world, our philosophical

conceptions of the soul, o f i mmortality, of life, if one does n o t know
the religious beliefs that are their primordial forms. Kinship started o u t
a s an esse nt ially religious t i e ; p u n i s h m e n t , c o n tract, gift, and ho mage
are transformations of expiatory, contractual, communal, honorary
sacrifices, and so on . . . . A great n u m ber of problems change their
aspects completely as soon as their connections with the sociology of
religion are recognized. O u r efforts must therefore b e aimed at tracing
those connections.3
In The Elementary Forms, Durkheim's object was to trace the connections

be tween religion and society o n the highest level of generality b y seeking
t h e essential constituents o f religion that represented a permanent aspect of
human nature in s o c i e ty. "What we want is to find a means to discern the
ever present causes o n w h i ch depend the m o s t esse n t i a l fo rms o f religious
thought and practi c e . " 4 I n other words, Durkheim was working at the m o s t
basic level o f t h e t r e e of s o c i o - cultural life . He sought t h e c o m m o n trunk of
specifi cally human experience, which would be differentiated according to
varying conditions i n different types of society. M o reover, i t was con textually
clear that he was primarily concerned with the nature and role of religion
i n t h e " n o r m a l" fo rm of social l i fe . T h u s h i s last major work, like the stud
ies which preceded it, was a t least i m p l icitly conceived with reference to
the two coordinate bases o f Durkheim's thought: the paradigm o r m o d e l
of the tree of s o c i a l l i fe and the r o o t distinction between the normal a n d
t h e pathological.
The method Durkheim employed was that o f the "crucial experimen t . "
T h rough concen trated analysis of a l i m ited range of related facts, he at
tempted t o arrive u l t i mately a t the fo rmulation of general laws. Durkheim's
"crucial experiment" focused on " p r i m i tive" societies a n d , m o re specifically,
on Australian societies and used the American Indians as a sort of control
group. The principal analytic reason fo r this choice was methodo logical.
The relative simplicity o f "primitive" societies made them the most plausible
objects of study in the attempt to define the essence of religion and the
p e r m a n e n t i n h u m a n nature. It may be observed, m o reover, that the general
methodological viewpoint was analytically independent of the specific theory
of totemism, the evolutionary tendencies, and the social m e t aphysic with
which i t became associated in the course of Durkheim's argument.
T h e p r o b le m o f i n i t i a l defi n i t i o n , w h i c h w a s always signi fi cant i n

D u r k h eim's w o r k , a s s u m e d p a r a m o u n t i m p or t a n c e i n Th e Elementary
Forms. The d e fi n i t i o n of t h e religious p h e n o m e n o n was m uch m o r e t h a n
a p r e l i m i n a r y step i n t h e o r i e n t a t i o n o f r e s e a r c h . I t e m b o d i e d a s u m m a r y
o f w h a t w a s essential i n r e l i g i o n a n d p e r m a n e n t i n h u m a n n a t u r e . D e fi
nition was thus related to subsequent argument in accordance with the
C a r t e s i a n d i c t u m t h a t a c h a i n i s a s s t r o n g as i t s fi rst l i n k .
D u r k h e i m b egan by r e j e c t i n g general defi nitions of r e l i g i o n i n terms
o f a personal divinity o r r a d i c a l l y transcendental mysteries. As he h a d
p u t i t i n a n earlier a r t i c l e , t h e n o t i o n o f divinity was o n l y a "secondary
e p i s o d e " i n t h e history of religi o n s . 5 B u d dhism offered a p r o m i n e n t ex
a m p l e o f a m aj o r religious system w i t h o u t d i v i n i t i e s . I n a d d i t i o n , m a n y
religions provided cases o f r i t u a l s w i t h o u t gods o r , i n d e e d , o f gods w h o
were c o n ceived a s t h e products o f r i t u a l a c t i o n . From these considerations
Durkheim derived t h e general p r i n c i p l e that t h e m e a n i n g , effi c acy, and
s o c i a l fun c t i o n o f cult were i n d e p e n d e n t o f t h e i d e a o f d i v i n e interven
tion.
D u r k h ei m's d i s c u s s i o n o f t r a n s c e n d e n t a l m y s t e r i e s was m o re t h e o
reti cally e l a b o r a t e t h a n h i s c o m m e n t s on t h e n o t i o n of d i v i n i ty. The n o
t i o n of t h e i n e x p l i c a b l y m y s t e r i o u s ( o r t h e t o t a l l y o t h e r ) was r e c i p r o c a l l y
related t o t h e n o t i o n of a n a u t on o m o us r e a l m o f n a t u r e . B o t h n o t i o n s
w e r e a l i e n t o "p r i m i tive" m an . I n s t e a d , h e h a d a n experience of le mer
veilleux - t h e w o n dr o u s - which c o m p r e h e n d e d b o th t h e p r o cesses of
n a t u r e and t h e d o i n gs o f h u m an s .
F o r h i m there i s n o t h i n g strange i n t h e p o w e r o f v o i c e o r gesture t o

com m an d the elemen t s , t o s t o p o r hasten t h e m o t i o n o f the stars,
to b r i n g rain or cause i t t o cease, etc. The rites w h i c h he e m p loys
to assure the fer t i l i t y o f the s o i l or the fec u n d i t y o f a n i m a l s p e c i e s
o n w h i c h h e i s n o u r i s h e d d o n o t a p p e a r m o re i r r a t i o n a l i n h i s eyes
than the technical p r o cesses o f which our agriculturalists make use,
fo r the same p u r p o s e , d o t o o u r s . The powers which he puts i n t o
p l a y b y these diverse m e a n s d o n o t s e e m t o h i m t o h a v e anything
especially mysterious a b o u t them . . . . T h a t is w h y t h e m i r a c u l o u s
i n t e r v e n t i o n s w h i c h t h e a n c i e n t s a t t r i b u t e d t o t h e i r g o d s were
n o t to t h e i r eyes m i r a c l e s in the m o de r n s e n s e of t h e word. F o r
t h e m , they w e r e b e a utiful, r a r e , o r t e r r i b l e spectacles, o r causes
o f surprise a n d w o n d e r (thaumata, mirabifia, miracufa ) ; b u t they

never saw them as glimpses i n t o a mysterious world which reason
cannot p e n e t r a t e . 6
D u rk h e i m c o n c e d e d t h a t t h e fee l i n g of s u p e r n atural m y s t e r y h a d
c o n s iderable i m p o rtance i n certain religi o n s , n o t a b l y C h ri s t i a n i ty. B u t i t
c o u l d n o t b e conceived a s a b as i c element o f Christianity i t s e l f since i t was
s u b j e c t to significant variations and even total eclipse in Western h i s t o ry.
A fo r t i o r i , i t c o u l d n o t b e seen as the essence of all religion.
This c o n c e p t i o n o f the s u pernatural and transcendental mystery was
highly significant. Durkhei m's thought was a fo rerunner o f m o dern "death
of G o d " t h eo l o gi e s , i n s o fa r as t h ey use " G o d " to refer to t h e r a d i c a l l y
transcendental o r t o tally o t h e r divinity o f Christianity who m a y e v e n be
recognized as a b s e n t . I n a d d i t i o n , he seemed to i n d i c a t e t h e p o s s i b i l i ty of
overcoming p o s i ti v i s t i c conceptions of science t h r o u g h a p h i l o s o p h y that
integrated m o d e r n rationalism i n t o a more c o m p rehensive v i s i o n of valid
experience. And he shifted the center o f gravity i n religious i n terpretation
from the s u p e r n a t u r a l t o a noti o n o f Le mervei/Leux intimately b o u nd u p
w i t h the sacred a n d co m m u n ity.
Durkheim deflned r e l i g i o n thus:
A reli gi o n is an i n regrated system o f b e l i efs and p ractices relating to

sacred things, that is to say, things s e t apart and forbidden - beliefs
a n d practices w h i c h unite into one a n d t h e s a m e moral co m m u nity
called a chu rch all those who adhere to them. The second element
which thus fi nds a place in our definition i s n o less essential than
the fi r s t ; fo r b y showing that the i d e a o f religion i s inseparable fro m
t h a t o f a c h u r c h , i t shows that religion m u s t be an eminently col
lective thing.7
The d e fi n i t i o n c o m p r i s e d two related elements, one substantive, t h e

other fun c t i onal. T h e s u b s tantive element asserted t h a t religion involved
a p e r c e p t i o n o f the world in terms of the d i s t i n c ti o n between the sacred
and the p r o fa n e . T h e second element asserted that religion fu nctioned to
create moral c o m m u n i ty in society.
T h e second e l e m e n t o f D u r k h e i m's d e fi n i t i o n is more controversial
than the first. In one s e n s e , Durkhei m's c o n c e p t i o n had a critical edge
24 0 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
t h a t was related to h i s i d e a of s o c i a l normality. It was also related to h i s

s o c i o l o g i c a l a t t e m p t t o provide m o d e r n s o c i e ty, a n d s p e cifi cally h i s own
Third R e p u b l i c , w i t h a secular morality t h a t allowed fo r a reconceived
relation t o the sacred. I m p l i c i tly, it seemed to deny religious legitimacy to
churches based on extreme b u reau cratization. 1ore explici tly, it impugned
the validity o f religious systems t h a t fun c t i o n e d t o atomize individuals
in s o c i e ty. M o re o ver, it did not consider the context i n which religion or
q u a s i-religi o u s i d eologies might integrate a group internally b u t i n tensify
confl ict in the broader s o c i e ty. Obvio usly, D urkheim's defi nition a p p l i e d
only t o the function o f religion i n the n o r m a l s t a t e o f s o c i e t y ; i t a p p l i e d
t o pathological s t a t es only a s an expression of evo l u t i o n ary o p t i m i s m o r
an ind i ca t i o n o f projected goals.
I t might be observed, however, that a more "value-neutral" and predi ctive
line of argument was open which Durkheim did not take. He might have
argued that religion in a context of extreme b u reaucratization or atomistic
individualism served the interest of relatively small and privileged elites b u t
that a m o r e communal experience of t h e sacred h a d greater mass appeal. This
approach would h ave led to the problem of the relati o n s h i p between certain
conceptions of the sacred and certain social fu nctions. The case of Protes
tantism was significant in this respect. Sectarian Protestantism, which arose in
part as a reaction against bureaucratic corruption (e.g., the commercialization
of i n dulgences), conceived the sacred in radically transcendental and super
natural terms that fu nctioned to create an unmediated, if inscrutable, link
between a hidden divinity and atomized ind ividuals. As Weber observed, this
attitude was maintained only among a select elite, while the larger population,
especially i n rural areas, fell back upon more cosmic and communal forms of
religious experience that included elements of magic. Thus D u rkheim's no
tion of the relationship b e tween the sacred and community might have been
associated w i t h popular or mass religion and perhaps with developmental
possibilities in modern secular societies, including his hopes for Third Re
p u b l i c France. I n t h i s sense, h e might have s u pplemented Weber's idea of t h e
" b u reaucratization o f charisma" with a countervailing i d e a of t h e tendency o f
popular movements to react against routinization and atomization i n a shared
charismatic quest for a more communal experience of the sacred. To the extent
that the correlation held b e tween a communal conception of the sacred and
popular devotion - or b e tween its absence and mass unrest - plausibility
would b e lent to the claim that Durkheim had at least discovered a permanent
o r transhistorical aspect of human nature in society. In one fo rm o r another,
the b o n d between the sacred and community would m ake its relevance fel t
i n a l l social contexts.
Like his definition of religion, Durkhei m's attempt to distinguish religion
from magic had both substantive and functional comp onents. And it too
seemed most problematic o n the sociofunctional level which received the
bulk o f his attention.
Substantively, Durkheim held that both religion and magic depended
upon the distinction b e tween the sacred and the profane. They differed,
however, in their orientations to the sacred. Religion presented a "ritual at
titude" toward t h e sacred experienced in purely sy m b o l i c terms. If religion
involved an experience of the sacred as, so to speak, an end i n itself, magic
took the sacred as a means. It placed "sacred fo rces" in a causal circuit geared
to the achievement of practical, utilitarian effects. In extreme forms, this
manipulation of the sacred b r o ught a b o u t its profanation. I t may be paren
thetically noted that this p o i n t o f view was applied b y H u b ert and Mauss,
i n their ''Theorie generale de I a magie," to the relatio n s h i p between m agic
and technology. 8 From this point of view, technology secularized magic as
a means of controlling seemi ngly desacralized or disenchanated objects i n
the world.
D urkheim's distinction b e tween religion and magic paralleled the o p p o
s i t i o n , i n his m o r a l p h i l o s o p hy, b etween the normative and the u t i l i t arian.
Magic, fo r him, almost seemed t o imply a misappropriation of the p u b l i c
fu nd of sacred values for private and particularistic interests. T h i s aspect
of his argu m e n t was especially pronounced i n the more sociofu n c t i o n a l
e l e m e n t o f h i s d i s t i n c t i o n . H e r e , however, he p r o p osed d i fferential charac
teristics that were not universal in incidence and which, fu rth ermore, har
bored internal contradictions in their application to d i fferentiated types.
In considering social functions, Durkheim argued that religion was incon
ceiva b l e w i t h o u t a church but t h a t "there was n o c h u rch of magic."
Between the magician and the individuals who consult him, as between
these individuals themselves, there are no lasting bonds which make
them m e m bers of t h e same m o ral c o m m u n i ty, comparable to t h a t
fo rmed b y b elievers i n the s a m e god or t h e observers o f t h e s a m e cult.
The magician has a clientele and not a church, and it is very possible
that his clients have n o relations with one another, even to the point
of not knowing one another; even the relations which they have with
him are generally accidental and transient; they are like those of a sick
man with his d o ctor.9
Thus the magician might provide services for individuals whose per
sonal problems were n o t adequ ately resolved in the dominant system. Yet
Durkheim's argument harbored a number of difficulties. These related both
to the natur e of symbolic systems and to their social fu nctions in a "church"
of beli evers. In the context of The Elementary Forms as a whole, a church
obviously meant a solidaristic corporative group that especially emphasized
the existence o f moral community among its members. But Durkheim did
not attempt to relate this notion t o the problem of highly bu reaucratized
churches or h i ghly i n dividualistic sects.
In order to appreciate Durkheim's conception of religion and i t s relation to
magic, it is useful to distinguish b etween ( 1 ) sym b o l i c systems that integrate
religion and magic as elements of a more inclusive paradigm, (2) symbolic
systems that dissociate religion from some forms of magic, a n d (3) sym b o l i c
systems t h a t dissociate religion from all fo rms o f magic. T h e s e three types
of symbolic systems may then be related to the existence and strength of a
church, in the limited sense of a solidaristic corporative group.
I n "primitive" societies, magic and religion were, typically, integrated
elements of the same over-all p aradigm. Durkheim a t times seemed to rec
ognize this. But h e did not see the ways in which b o t h religion and magic
served to integrate the same corporate group (or "church" ) . A rain ritual
which insured a good crop fo r the group as a whole did not work invidiously
for the beneflt of special or private interests. And i t was in "primi tive" soci
eties, where the integration of the meaningful content and social function
of religion and magic was strongest, that the element of moral community
was most marked .
T h e history of Christianity in the West, which was often Durkheim's
implicit frame of reference, revealed different developments. As i t became
increasingly b u reaucratized and less communal, Catholicism did dissoci
ate religion and certain forms of magic. "White" o r beneficent magic was
assimilated into the dominant symbolic system as miracle. " B l ack" o r ma-
leficent magic was relegated t o the sphere of diabolical forces. In missionary

territories, elements of other symbolic systems that could not be integrated
into the established p aradigms were frequently dismissed as "black" magic.
And charismatic deviants, who upset the bureaucratic administration o f sa
cred values and might be most feared when they developed fo llowi ngs, were
of ten condemned as witches or sorcerers. The strongest communal bonds
i n such a context might well b e generated between selfl ess disciples and the
charismatic "deviant" who used m agical prowess as an instrumen tal support
for a revo lutionary prophetic message. Within the dominant organization,
community was s ubordinated t o the i m p eratives of a bureaucratic, hierar
chical structure.
I n sectarian Protesta n t i s m , th e t e n d e n cy was to pu rge all magic fro m reli
gion and to brand all m agical elements as signs of witchcraft. The denigration
of visible symbolism and its efficacy was attendant u p o n the establishment
of an unmediated nexus b etween the "inner" self o f the individual and a
transcendental, hidden divinity who was totally other. The degree of commu
nity derived fr om religion was decreased to a minimum. The religious gro u p
was a s e c t in w h i c h m e m b e rs h i p was vo l u n tary o n the p a r t o f t h e indi vidual
and s u b j e ct to quasi-contractual approval o f one's personal qualifications
by members of the sect. Magic was entirely a matter o f extra-religious and
irreligious private consultation; it was highly suspect i n the light of transcen
dentally oriented religious belief, the radical secularization of "this-worldly"
experience, and the i d e a that worldly success was related to religious election
only as an external index. But tension was created b etween an extremely
transcendental theology, which could be used as a basis of existence only by
an elite, and the tendency of the common "man" (and the common in all
"men") to fall back u p o n paradigms that allowed an ambivalent fascination
with the symbolism o f magic and sorcery. Even private consultations with a
magician might give rise to feelings of dependency that contrasted sharply
with the individualistic nature o f the established religious system. Indeed a
magician might develop affective b o n d s w i t h those he or s h e assisted - b o n d s
theorized i n psychoanalysis i n terms o f transference.
In b r i ef, it would seem that when the c o n d i t i o n s o f D u rkheim's defi
n i t i o n o f religion applied, the c o n d i t i o n s of religio n's distinction fro m
magic d i d n o t , and vice versa. It was i n systems w i t h a high degree o f in
tegration b e tween the m e a ningful content and social fun c t i o n s of religion
a n d m a g i c t h a t m o r a l c o m m u n i t y was m o s t marked. O n e b a s i c diffi culty

in his a t t e m p t t o distinguish sharply between religion and magic in t h e
" primi tive c o n t e x t w a s his failure to see t h a t g e n u i n e b e l i e f i n a symbolism
"
might well involve a belief i n the causal efficacy o f t h a t sy m b o l i s m . The

d i fference b e tween the merely symbolic and t h e symbolic as an object o f
" "
genuine b e l i e f w a s set fo rth by Durkheim h i m s e l f i n a n earlier work:
Contemporary ideas make us i nclined to see mere symbols or modes

o f allegorical figuration. But it is a general rule t h a t practices d o not
take on at first merely symbolic characteristics. This type of symbolism
is a form o f decadence and i t comes only when their primi tive sense
is lost. Symbols b egin not as external signs b u t as efficacious causes
of social relations. 10
T h e problem, o f c o u r s e , was that fro m a critical s t a n d p o i n t Durkheim

recognized the illusory aspects o f magic. If h e was t o save religion and
make it c o m p a t i b l e w i t h r a t i o n a l i s m , he seemed o b l i g e d to dissociate it
fro m magic a n d its discredited false h o o d s . The antipathy between t h e
c o l l e ctively n o rmative a n d t h e p a r t i cularistically u t i l i t a r i a n , w h i c h was
essential t o h i s own m o ral p h i l o s o p h y, served t h i s need. As we shall s e e ,
however, the issue left o p e n b y h i s s o c i a l m e taphysic w a s w h e t h e r h i s sal
vaging o p e r a t i o n was untenably r e d u c t i o n i s t i c and whether it a d e q u a tely
a c c o u n t e d fo r the d i m e n s i o n of causal efficacy i n sacred s y m b o l i s m .
At t h i s p o i n t o n e migh t h ave e x p e ct e d D u r k h e i m t o t u r n directly t o
a s t u d y o f t h e sacred a n d t h e p rofane i n b el i e f and r i t u a l p r a c t i c e , u s i n g
a n i n d e p t h analysis o f a s m a l l s e t o f "primi tive" s o c i e t i e s as a b a s i s o f
-
generalizati o n . O n e m i g h t a l s o have expected h i m t o provide a d e t a i l e d ,

c r i t i c a l , c o m p arat ive s t u d y o f s a c r i fi c e , i t s role i n s o c i e t y (at t i m e s i n
secularized fo r m ) , and its r e l a t i o n t o b o th v i c t i m i z a t i o n a n d gift-givi n g
i n b u i l d i n g c o m m u n a l s o l i d a r i ty. A h i g h l y s i g n i fi cant e x p loratory study i n
t h i s d i r e c t i o n h a d already b e e n c o m p l e t e d b y H u b er t a n d M a u s s i n t h e i r
"Essai sur I a nature et l a fo n c t i o n d u s a crifi ce" ( " S acrifi ce: Its N a t u r e and
F u n c t i o n" ) . 1 1 I n line w i t h the earlier w o r k o f D urkheim a n d h i s school,
the p r i m ar y problem w o u l d h ave b een t h e relationship a n d ramifi cations
o f two sets of correlated o p p o s i t i o n s : sacred-p rofa n e and c o m m u n itas - d i f
fer e n t i a t e d structure. T h i s focus w o u l d have provided insight i n t o t h e key
q u e s t i o n of how religious b e l i e fs and p r a c t i c e s c o n s t i t u t e d the u l t i m a t e
s o u rce o f l e g i t i m a t i o n i n s o c i e t y a n d h o w they fun c t i o n e d i n r e l a t i o n t o

s o l i d arity.
Instead, Durkheim at this p o i n t turned to the evolutionary problem of
t h e earliest known fo rm of religi o n . This preoccupation was one basis fo r
t h e exaggerated importance h e attributed to totemism in the history of re
ligions. I n d e e d , it inhibited him fro m analyzing o b j ectively b o t h the extent
to which totemism d i d o r did not have religious aspects and the problem of
other facets of religion in the societies h e investigated. But the concentration
upon totemism had another b asis in Durkheim's thought. In the course
of his argument, the term "origin" t o o k on three senses: the evolutionary
sense o f a historical starting point; the analytic sense o f a permanently ap
p l i c a b l e paradigm o r a model of "ever present causes"; and t h e sense o f a
legitimating mythical source or fons et origo . The evolutionary signifi cation
was i n fact the least important, since Durkheim himself was very cautious
concerning i t s pertinence. On the other h a n d , the analytic and mythical
meanings seemed to merge i n his mind and to b ecome the primary basis
fo r his interest in origins. Insofar as i t was not simply an adj unct of the
contemp orary anthropological quest to fi n d the "secret o f the totem" (in the
phrase o f Andrew Lang) , totemism was i m p o r tant i n The Elementary Forms
largely because it proved convenient fo r Durkheimian social metaphysic and
for the myth of origins which helped to legitimate it and, with it, sociology
itself i n D urkheim's e n c o m p assing, indeed grandiose, conception of it. By
seemingly providing the genealogical origin o f religion and society, soci
ol ogy performatively furnished its own fo unding myth and underwrote its
transformative mission i n modern soci ety.
D u r k h e i m prefaced his a c c o u n t of t o t e m i c b e l i e f and r i t u a l w i t h a
refutation of competing theories of the original form of religion. Natur
ism derived religion fro m the primitive personalization of awesome fo rces
of nature. In the linguistically oriented formulation o f Max M Li ller, this
conception of natural processes was attributed to the metaphoric power
of language. In t h i s s e n s e , according to D u r k h e i m , religion was "an i m
mense m e t a p h o r w i t h o u t o b j e ctive value . " 12 A n i m i s m , which received i t s
m o s t inHuential fo rmulation i n the works of E . B. Tyl or, maintained that
the m i n i m a l definition of religion rested on a belief i n spirits or souls. The
origin of this b e l i e f was the reliance of the "primitive" mind on the idea of
spirits in order to interpret dreams. The reasons fo r D u rkheim's rejection of
b o t h naturism and animism were identical: these theories either ignored the
sacred or reduced i t to a groundless i l l u s i o n . " N o t only would the s ym b o l s
through w h i c h religious powers a r e conceived m a s k i n p a r t t h e i r t r u e nature,
b u t , furthermore, b e h i n d these i mages and figures there would be only the
nightmares of uncultivated minds. Religion would in the last analysis b e
only a systematized a n d lived dream w i t h o u t any fou ndation in reality. " 1 3
Despite i t s partial validi ty, D urkheim's elaborate and somewhat tedious
critique of naturism and animism had all the qualities of a refutation o f
heresies. H e d i d n o t a s k w h a t the r o l e o f the relationship between humans
and nature might be in religious systems o r w h a t part metaphor (which is n o t
always "mere" m e t a p h o r ) might have in articulating this relationship. And,
although the Australians referred to the mythical past as "dream time," he did
not i n q u i r e into the p l a c e of the "night s i d e " of life in religious experience.
I n fact, h e seemed to conceive dreams in a n arrowly Cartesian manner that
denied them all cognitive value. Nor did h e rej ect reductionism as a m o d e
of interpretation. Prefacing h i s own reductionistic interpretation of totem
ism, h e simply denied the validity o f competing forms o f reductionism in
naturism and a n i m i s m . The refutation of h e resies i n s h o r t was a prerequisite
of apologetics. T h e style o f argument became i n c reasingly theological.
Certain aspects o f D u rkheim's treatment o f totemism were analytically
independent of his social metaphysic. B u t the growing i n terpenetration of
his theory of totemism and his social m e taphysic certainly contributed to his
i m p ermeability to mounting evidence that falsified some o f his elementary
assumptions. Durkheim believed that totemism was a global institution that
combined kinship and religion. In other words, he assumed that the same
gro up (the clan) shared both kinship and religion and that the same object
(the totem) was the family name or emblem and the object o f religious sym
bolism.
The primary source for facts on the Australian tribes, which were the
presumed object o f Durkheim's crucial experiment, was the exemplary mono
graph by Sir Baldwin Spencer and Francis James Gillen, The Native Tribes of
Central Australia. 14 The Arunta ( o r Aranda) tribe received extensive treatment
b y Spencer and Gillen and by Durkheim. What were the foits cruciaux? There
was no identity among the patrilocal territorial group, the partilineal exogamic
gro u p , and the totemic group with a territorial base. Religion was dispersed
through various elements of cultural life, including religious confraternities not
identical with the fo rmer groupings. The totemic groups, moreover, were n o t
stro ngly constituted as corporate entities. The central r o l e of t h e intichiuma
ceremony o f the totemic groups, which Durkheim attempted to interpret i n
predominantly religious terms a s a "primitive" sacrifice involving oblation and
communion, d i d appear to be predominantly magico-economic in nature.
To Durkheim's dismay, Sir James Frazer had already made this point. Indeed,
Mauss himself had argued i n the Amzee sociologi q ue that the seeming act of
"communion" i n the "totemic sacrifice" was performed b y the totemic group
i n order t o consume the sacred element of the totem and thereby free i t for
profane consumption by other groups. 1 5 This consumption created a meta
phoric link b e tween the intichiuma ritual and the ordinary economic life of
soci ety. The m a n i fest purpose of th e ritual was to assure the reproduction of
the animal species. M oreover, exogamic marriage rules applied to patrilineal
moieties (or phratries) and to marriage classes within them determined by
generati on. The totemic affiliation, in contrast, did not regulate exogamy and
was determined b y the ancestral totemic spirit mythologically associated with
the s p o t at which the mother believed herself to have conceived the child.
In the face of s i m i lar evidence which c o u l d n o t be i n tegrated into the
paradigm o f a global totemic institution, Durkheim resorted to ingenious
and factually gratuitous evolutionary arguments. Indeed his general response
to hostile evidence for which h e could n o t otherwise account was to argue
gratuitously that i t corresponded to a later ( o r earlier) state of society than
the one he was addressing. Indeed evolutionary ideas were more important
in D urkheim's attempt to relate the "original" totemic institution to known
facts about certain societies than in his attempt to relate these to other types
of societies. In such Annee articles as "La Prohibition de l'inceste et ses origi
nes" ( 1 8 9 6 ) , " S u r le totemisme" ( I 900), and " S u r I' organisation des societes
australiennes" ( I 9 0 3 ) , h e had laid the groundwork fo r The Elementary Fo rms
by attempting to explain away counterevidence by imaginative accounts of
the "original" totemic institution and how it had evolved into one known
form or another. T h e primary impression left by these efforts is comparable
to that left by Ptolemaic astronomy when it was compelled to resort to in
creasingly intricate epi cycles in order to account in some way fo r i ncreasingly
unmanageable evidence.
It m i g h t b e maintained that even if one concedes that D urkheim failed
to provide a n adequate general theory o f t o t e m i s m , t h i s fai l u r e did not
invalidate h i s general theory of religion. O b j e c tively, t o t e m 1 s m w o u l d

b e relevant to a general theory o f religion o n l y i n s o far as i t p r o v i d e d i n
certain cases a n i n s t a n t i a t i o n o f religious s y m b o l i s m . Aft e r a l l , D urkheim
himself was primarily interested i n religion and i t s relation to society.
And i n The Elemen tary Forms, h e argued that t h e selection of t h e totem as
a religious sym b o l was at first arbitrary. From a n o b j e c t i v e point of view,
this line of argument is convincing, and it even makes one wonder why
Durkheim was so insistent a b o u t the i m p ortance of totemism. The reason
fo r his interest in totemism becomes less puzzling only in the context of
his social metaphysic. Once totemism was i m p l i cated i n his metaphysic
of society whose fo unding myth simultaneously legitimated sociology, i t
became invested w i t h a l l t h e sym b o l i c values t h a t follow i n t h e train o f a
basic commitment. In t h i s sense, Durkheim's steadfastness in the defense
of an "original" t o t e m i c institution was m u c h more than a case of senile
hardening of the interpretive categories o r psychological involvement i n a
p e t theory. It involved an affective and evaluative investment or "cathexis"
in the strongest sense of the word.
To deve l o p an idea of Durkh eim's t h eory o f religio n , let us try t o dis
entangle the elements o f Durkheim's discussion that were not altogether
subservient to his social metaphysic and his "sociologi s m . " Beliefs and ritu
als constituted the complementary modes through which people in society
related to the sacred. Altho ugh h e recognized the intimate relationship
between ritual and myth i n religious cults, Durkheim did n o t b a lance his
treatment o f rituals with a theory of myths. H i s analysis of beliefs concen
trated in rather Platonic fash i o n upon conceptual paradigms o r ideas that
were presumed to be basic to religious b eli efs. 1 6
Durkheim divided rituals i n t o t h e following types (which are perhaps
more adequately conceived as elements present in varying combinations in
specific rituals): the ritual interdict, or tab o o , separating the sacred fro m
t h e profane; the sacrifice, comprising the elements o f oblation (offering or
gift) and c o m m u n i o n t h rough c o n s u m p t i o n or d i s p o s i t i o n of t h e sacrificial
victim (the v i c t i m being the typical offering o r gift); the m i m e t i c ritual,
which had special relevance for beliefs a b o u t causation; the representative
o r commemo rative r i t u a l ; and the p i acular o r mourning ritual relating
to sorrowful events like death. The negative cult involving taboos served
generally as a preparation fo r the p o s i tive cult (sacrifi cial, m i m e t i c , com-
Chapter 6 Th e Sctcred and Society 249
memoratlve, a n d piacular rituals) by setting p e o p l e and things o ff fro m

t h e p r o fane w o r l d . E i t h e r i n perio dically recurrent fo rm or a s a reaction to
p o t e n t i ally unsettling critical events, the role of ritual was to maintain and
dramatically re-create the meani ngful symbolic universe that functioned
. .
to In regrate society.
Thus, fo r Dur kheim, the center of religion as an o perative o r perfor
mative fo rce was the cult. And central to the cult was the nexus between
symbolic m a n i festation and solidarity, especially in i t s intensely communal
forms. People experienced the strongest b o n ds w i t h one another when they
demonstrated that they held the same thi ngs sacred.
From our p o i n t of view, it is readily seen how the group of regularly

repeated acts which fo rm the cult assume once again all their impor
tance. In fact, whoever has really practiced a religion knows quite well
that it i s the cult which gives rise to the impressions of joy, of interior
peace, of sereni ty, of enthusiasm which are, for the faithful, like an
experimental proof of their bel iefs. The cult is not s i m p l y a system of
signs b y which the fa ith is ou twardly translated; i t is a collection of the
means by which faith is created and re-created periodically. Whether
it consists o f material acts o r mental operations, it is always this which
is effi caciou s Y
Hence t h e primary imp ortance Durkheim attributed t o t h e alternation

between ordinary profane activities and sacred, ritual occasions in the "nor
mal" rhythm of social life. Indeed, it was only in The Elementary Forms that
his conception o f the normal society came to full fr uition. In and through
fe stive celebration, the symbolic values which guided social life would b e
performatively reinvigorated and receive t h e power t o prevent unwanted
historical change while regenerating what was of historical and social value.
Anomie could be kept within tolerable bounds only if members of society
were peri odically reminded i n intense ways of the bases of their common
cultural world and their solidarity. Ritual and feast were thus the media of
living memory that reproduced bonds and reinforced institutional norms i n
a solidaristic society. 1 8
Durkhei m's interpretation of religious beliefs was i n o n e sense i n fl u enced
by t h i s concep t i o n of c u l t . H e began with t h e assumption t h a t t h e totem
was in fac t a religious symb ol. But his s u b s e q u e n t argument could be ap-
p l i e d to any religious sym b o l . For h e went on to affirm that the fi gurative

representation of the sacred o b j e c t was m o r e sacred than the object ( e . g . ,
the p l a n t or animal s p e c i e s ) itself. F r o m t h i s p o i n t on, P l a t o was D u rkheim's
maltre depenser. T h e figurative representation of a sacred object derived its
religious quality from a higher source. The totemic emblem received its
sacredness thro ugh partaking o f an archetypical totemic principle. O n a
still higher level of abstraction, the t o t e m i c principle, in turn, related to the
Maori concept o f mana. Especially i n D u rkheim's ultimate and essentially
moral conception of it, mana might well be compared t o Plato's concept of
the G o o d o r t o the analogous Christian idea of the indwelling o f the Holy
S p i r i t i n the hearts of t h e j u s t .
T h e m e a n i n g o f t h e c o n c e p t of m a n a and a n a logous c o n c e p ts in a l l
cultures r e m a i n s a p o i n t of c o n t e n t i o n a m o n g anthropologists. Robert
Henry Codrington, w h o m D urkheim followed i n t h i s r e s p e c t , defi ned
"1nana" thus:
There is a belief in a force altogether distinct fro m physical power,

which acts in all ways for good and evil; and which it is of the greatest
advantage to possess or control. This is mana. I think I know what o u r
p e o p l e m e a n b y i t . . . . It is a power o r infl uence, not physical and in a
way supernatural; but i t shows itself in physical force, or in any kind
of power o r excellence which a man possesses. This mana is not fixed
in anything . . . . All Melanesian religion consists, in fact, in getting this
mana for one's self, o r getting i t used for one's benefit. 1 9
Mana thus corresponded, i n the first instance, t o a n impersonal force

immanent i n the world and yet beyond ordinary capacities or processes. It
could be related to the notion of cosmic unity and t o the feeling of le merveil
leux. Manifesting itself in exceptional events and powers, it was nonetheless
b e h i n d the order of the universe, which was not extraordinary in its daily
manifestations but wondrous i n its totality - and even epiphanous i n its
details when they were seen i n a certain light. In brief, mana represented the
unitary source of the sacred, the ecumenical core of all religion. In specific
events, beliefs, and rituals, mana became differentiated and separated from
the profane. And the reality for which mana stood was the primary object of
the ritual attitude of sacred respect and the m agical b e l i e f i n symbolic efficacy.
As Durkheim observed:
A Dakota Indian . . . expressed this essential consubstantiality of all sa

cred things in a language full of relief. "Everything which moves stops
here or there a t one time o r another. The bird which flies stops at one
place to make i t s nest, a t another t o rest fro m i t s fl i ght. The man w h o
walks, stops when h e wishes. lt i s the same with the god [/a divinite'J.
The sun, so bright and magnificent, is one place where he stopped. The
trees, the animals are other places. The Indian thinks o f these places
and sends a prayer to them i n order to reach the place where the god
has stopped and receive assistance and blessings." In other words, the
wakan [a term s i m i l a r in m e a n i n g to " m ana"] (fo r t h i s is w h a t he was
talking about) comes and goes through the world, and sacred things
are the points upon which it alights.2
Once D urkheim's argument reached this p o i n t , however, i t did not follow

the lead of the Dakota Indian in intimating that the root of"primitive" religion
and the essence of all religion was an intuition of the solidarizing force binding
all existence - including the compassionate or empathic bonding of humans
with all "others" i n the cosmos. Rather, it rewrote the cosmic allegory i n a sui
generis social direction and turned to the question of the origin of mana (and
analogous concepts like wakan) in a fashion that led to the development of
a social metaphysic.
Sociology and Epistemology
For the most part, D u rkheim's socio logical epi stemo logy was a corollary
of his social metaphysic. But, as in the case of h i s theory of religi o n , one may
attempt to extricate other elements of the argument and situate them in the
context of his thought as a whole.
The sociology of religion had, in Durkheim's mind, an i n tegral relation
to epistemo logical problems, since h e believed that the first "collective repre
sentations" were religious in nature.
I f philosophy and t h e sciences were born of religion, it is because

religion itself began by taking the place o f t h e sciences and p h i
losophy. Bu t i t has been less frequently noticed that religion d i d n o t
confine itself to e n r i c h i n g the human m i n d , fo rmed beforehand,
with a certain number of ideas; it contributed t o forming the mind
itself. Men owe to religion n o t only a notable p a r t of the content

of their knowledge b u t also the fo rm i n which this knowledge has
been elaborated. 2 1
In all societies, m oreover, the collective representations that fo rmulated

elementary types o f legitimation had a t least a quasi-religious character.
I n d e e d " c o l l e c ti v e r e p r e s e n t a t i o n , " in D u rkhei m's usage o f the t e r m ,
seemed t o cover t h e gamut from shared verbal behavior based on deeply
rooted b e l i efs, through elaborate "ideologies," t o more or less sophisticated
theoretical reflections. I t primarily referred, however, to the shared model
or paradigm that fu nctioned as a mode o f explanation and j u s t i fi c a t i o n i n
society, especially a s t h e core of t h e conscience collective that he treated i n
h i s moral philosophy as Ia mo rale. I t comprised b o t h cognitive and norma
tive elements. With the development of theoretical refl ection, and notably
with the emergence of sociology, cognitive and normative elements became
increasingly differentiated. But they were never entirely disjoined. In his
own sociology, fo r example, the higher-order paradigms of normal and
pathological processes embodied h i s idea o f the intimate relation of the
cognitive and the normative.
D u rkheim did n o t explici tly raise the problem o f the relation b etween
epistemology and the sociology of knowledge, and the two of ten s e e m e d
v e r y close i n h i s t h o u g h t Y H e w a s avowedly p r e o c c u p i e d w i t h a v e r y ele
mentary kind of analysis, and h e was even more p a l p a b l y concerned with
the problem o f validity. Indeed, perhaps the central i s s u e treated in a c o u rse
h e gave aft e r the p u b l i c a t i o n of
The Elementary Fo rms (and subsequ ently
reconstructed in the b o o k Pragmatisme et sociologie) was epistemological.
H e r e h e o p p os e d a classically "hard" conception of truth to the "logical
utilitarianism" o f pragmatists who equated truth w i t h practical success o r
t h e satisfying i l l u s i o n . And h e did no t s i m p l y e q u a t e t r u t h o r validity w i t h
social consensus. Rather h e asserted t h e i m personal a n d compelling nature
o f t r u t h , w h i c h imposed itself w i t h rational conviction. "Truth is a n o r m
fo r t h o u g h t , j us t as the m o r a l i d e a l is a n o r m for c o n d u c t . " 2 3 M oreover, h e
fl atly rejected an invariant correlation o f t r u t h w i t h h a p p i ness.
Truth is often p a i n fu l . It may d i s o rganize thought and t r o u b l e

the serenity o f the s p i r i t . When a m a n recognizes i t , he i s a t times
obliged to transform his entire mental organi z a t i o n : this provokes a
crisis which leaves h i m disconcerted and dis abled. If, for example, i n
a d u l t h o o d h e suddenly realizes t h a t his religious beliefs l a c k s o l i d i ty,
he may collapse m o rally. His intellectual and emotional life is par
alyzed . . . . Thus it is far from the case that truth i s a l ways attractive
and s e d u ctive. Quite of ten, i t resists u s , o p p oses o u r d esires, and has
a hard quality about i t . 2 4
I t is significant t h a t , i n his discussion of truth, D u r k h e i m p o i n t e d to

t h e role of what might be termed the deconversion experience and the way
t h e loss or deligitimation of religion might b e traumatic and disorienting.
The "truth" o f s o ciology itself involved working through this trauma and
simultaneously working o u t a new, critically "rational" basis fo r belief and
practice that would non etheless function as a secularized dis placement of
religion. M oreover, in D urkheimian sociology, the basic distinction b etween
normality and pathology provided a critical apparatus that involved the
problem of validi ty. In Marxian terms, o n e might say that a pathological
state was an alienated e m p irical reality t h a t gave rise t o i d e o l ogy as a fo rm
of false consciousness. In The Rules, Durkheim fo rmulated the conception
of false conscio usness in terms o f Descar tes's n o t i o n of p raenotiones and
Bacon's idea of idola. "As p r o d u c ts of ordinary experience, their o b j e c t is to
place our actions in harmony with the environing world. They are formed
by practice and fo r i t . Now a representation can play this role usefully while
being theoretically false . " 2 5
Unlike Marx, however, Durkheim d i d n o t relate id eology a s a fo rm o f
false consciousness t o class d o m i nation a n d exploitation. T h u s , h e d i d n o t
discuss t h e continuity between n o r mative legitimation a n d cognition i n the
distorted for m o f collective misrepresentations that attempted to present
a pathological state as if it was normal, e.g., by construing the i n terest of
one group as the good o f society as a whole. As a consequence, h e fai led to
treat the function o f i d e o logy in the stabilization o f a p a t h o l o gical social
order. This failure was especially significant i n view o f Marx's conception
of religion as a prominent fo rm o f ideological distortion and mystifi cation
i n an exploi tative society.
Certain things, however, seemed clear i n the development of Durkheim's
thought as a w h o l e . The truth w o u l d b e unsettling and subversive i n a
"pathological" situation that had been ideologically accepted as legitimate.
B u t it would be essential to an obj ective analysis of that situation and to the

reconstruction of society on a "normal" (or desirable) basis. Rational means to
effec t a passage from pathology to normality varied with historical conditions.
Durkheim fo und modern society t o be significantly p athological, but he did
not b e lieve violent revolution t o b e necessary or desirable for the achievement
of structural change. In a state of normality, m oreover, the knowledge of the
truth would offer the most authentic basis fo r legitimation o f the existing
order and the means to confi ne anomie to a marginal status. For i n the normal
state, the normative and cognitive paradigms which constituted a coherent
worldview and i ntegrated society as a whole could be j ustly conceived as an
applied function of the truth. In all societies, this state would involve an o p
t i m a l c o m b i n a t i o n o f community a n d reciprocity, a n d a relationship between
values accepted as sacred and average p erformance in daily living that did not
pass b eyond t h e limits of "standard devi ation."
Durkheim's epistemological assumptions revealed the m o s t profound
sense i n which he was a philosophical conservative. In his mind, there ex
isted a comprehensive correspondence b etween the foundations of truth and
knowledge in general and th e prevalence of order a n d s o l i d a r i ty in s o ciety.
Essential to human existence was the institution of normative and interpretive
paradigms that made sense of shared experience and simultaneo usly provided
the background against which to evaluate change.
These considerations make p o ss i b l e an estimation of D urkhe im's re
lation to Bergson and the pragm a t i s t s . Early in his life, Durkheim was
cast in the role of the archenemy not only of Tarde b u t also of Bergson.
His insistence on fo rmal structures o f obligation and, more b r o a dly, his
Cartesianized, neo-Kantian brand of rationalism were often d eveloped with
implicit reference t o B e rgson as the modern exemplar o f mysticism and
antirational i n t u i t i o n i s m . I n his later thought, h owever, Durkheim was
partially infl uenced by Bergson in two restricted but i m p o r t a n t ways. First,
Durkheim recognized the role o f "collective effe rvescence" as an ambivalent
elan vital t h a t was necessary i n t h e passage from path o logy t o n o r m ali ty.
Second, he saw that in t h e normal s t a t e itself, communal s p o n t a n e i t y was
t o be reconciled with d u ty, j ust as "collective effervescence" retained its
relevance as a spiritual milieu fo r a generous and expansive rationalism. But
Durkheim always rej ected the i d e o logical glorification o f change, m o b i l
ity, e m p i r i c a l fl uidi ty, individual transcendence, existential t u r m o i l , a n d
" b uzzing confusion" - i n brief, the symptoms o f anomie - as mystical

ends i n themselves. I n a pathological state of s o c i ety, a p r i m a r y func t i o n
of r a t i o n a l change w a s to p u t a s t o p to uncontrolled, r a m p a n t , runaway
change. In a normal state, the value o f change was related dialecti cally
to the predominance of order, and it had value not for its own sake b u t
o n l y insofar a s i t contributed t o a better social o r d e r which, i n m o d e r n i ty,
required spaces for criticism and contestat i o n .
In The Elementary Forms of the Religious Lfe, D u rkheim's manifest goal
was to define the elements of truth in religion.
I n fact, it is an essential postulate o f s o c i o logy t h a t a h u m a n i n

stitution cannot rest u p o n error a n d l i e s . O therwise i t c o u l d n o t
l a s t . I f i t w e r e n o t fo unded on t h e nature o f things, i t would have
encountered in things a resistance over which it could n o t have tri
u m p h e d . So when we commence the study of primitive religions, i t
i s with the conviction that they h o l d t o reality a n d express i t . This
principle will be seen t o recur time and again i n the c o u rs e o f the
analyses and discussions which fo llow, and the reproach which we
m ake against the schools fro m which we have separated o u rselves
is that they have ignored i t . N o d o u b t , when only the letter of the
formulae is considered, these religious beliefs and practices seem
disconcerting, and one i s tempted to attribute them to some sort of
deep-rooted aberration. But one must know how to go underneath
the symbol to the reality which it represents and which gives it its
true meaning.26
Within h i s own frame of reference, this conception of religion meant

that Durkheim w a s defining religion and its role i n terms of the normal state
of society. At times, however, h e seemed to generalize his viewpoint so that
it applied to all states of s o c i e ty. A t the very least, h e placed h i s conception
of the truth of r e l i g i o n wi t h i n the context o f h i s o p t i m i s t i c belief in an
emergent evolutionary straining toward normality in all society. Thus The
Elementary Forms, taken as an isolated work, might be interpreted to have
either orthodox conservative or liberal i m p l i cations, although its conclusion
made it obvious that Durkheim conceived normality i n m o dern society as
a goal of action. One basic reason for the i m p recision of The Elementary
Fo rms in its treatment of concrete problems was the increasing i m p o rtance
of abstract social metaphysic in D u rkheim' s thought. I n the context of his
thought as a whole and i t s application to modern soci ety, however, h e may

b e seen as employing h i s study of "primitive" religions to complete his idea
of the normal state and t o derive a general conception of ends i n basic
structural change.
The most significant and influential general fe ature of D u rkhei m's ap
proach was his interpretation o f epistemology as the analysis, on the m o s t
fundamental level, o f t h e structural articulations of cultural experience ( a n d
t h e i r relation t o anomie). The o b j e c t o f epistemological analysis i n t h i s
sense w a s to u n e a r t h the m o r e o r l e s s related set o f paradigms or categories
which, i n varying combinations, informed symbolic experience expressed
in word and action. The intimate link between an epistemologically ori
ented s o c i o l o gy and p h i l os o p h y was m a n ifest. S o c i o l ogy w o u l d culminate
in what might b e termed ( i n the expression of Ernst Cassirer) a p h i l o s o p h y
of s y m b o l i c fo rms.
The promise i n this conception o f e p i s t emology as the archaeology of
cultural experience was fo rmulated by Marcel Mauss: "We must first of all
draw u p as complete as possible a catalogue o f categories, beginning with
those which m a n k i n d is known t o have employed. I t will then be seen t h a t
there have b e e n , and that there still are, many dead moons, and others pale
or obscure, in the firmament o f reason . " 2 7
This perspective en joined a correlation of epistem ology w i t h society and
culture. The attempt to l i m i t epistemological i n q u i r y to an investigation o f
t h e m i n d o f t h e isolated individual was a symptom o f ideological distortion.
From Durkhe im's point o f view, solipsism and the p r o b l e m o f other minds
might b e seen, not as components o f an epistemological theory, but as
problems fo r epistemological investigation and p hilosophical criticism. They
were symptomatic elements of the same pathological context of atomistic
individualism that included utili tarian ethics, economic self-interest, and
narrowly empiricist methodo logy. Isolation was the limiting case of the com
mon medium of all symbolic systems: interaction involving communication.
Only sensation was c o n fi n e d t o the individual o rga n i s m ; but sym b o l i s m ,
and especially t h e concept, was an o b j e c t o f communication.
A c o n c e p t is not my concept. It i s c o m m o n to m e and other men

or, i n any case, i t can b e c o m m unicated to t h e m . But I cannot make
a sensation pass from my consciousness into the consciousness o f
another; i t i s narrowly b o u n d u p w i t h m y organism and my per

sonali ty, and it c a n n o t be detached fro m them . . . . B y themselves
individual consciousnesses are c l o s e d to one another. T h e y can
c o m m u n i cate only b y means of signs w h i ch translate t h e i r i n t ernal
s t a t e s . F o r t h e commerce w h i c h is established among them to b e
able t o c u l m i n a t e i n c o m m u n i o n , i . e . , i n a fu s i o n o f all particular
sentiments i n a common sentiment, there must b e signs expressing
these sentiments which themselves are fused in a sole a n d u n i q u e
resultant. I t i s t h e appearance of t h i s resultant w h i c h e n a b l e s i n
d i v i d u a l s to k n o w t h a t t h e y a r e u n i t e d and w h i c h m a k e s t h e m
conscious o f their m o r a l u n i ty.28
This viewpoint gave special i m p ortance to the socialization p r o cess i n

e p i s t e m o logical investiga t i o n s . For, i n t h e fl ow o f c o m m u n i c a t i o n that
made t h e individual a m e m b e r of soci ety, there w o u l d be transmitted i n
o p e rative fo r m t h e b asic categories o f experience and t h e anomie i n c o n
sistencies which typified social life. T h i s d i d n o t necessarily imply that
t h e individual was merely a p assive receptacle of traditional paradigms
and creative interaction. But it did mean that he or she c o u l d fo rm h i s
o r her o w n i d e a s o n l y against the b ackgro u n d o f c o m m o n experience o r
c o m m o n disorientation. And those ideas w o u l d have t o b e addressed to
c o m m o n p r o b l e m s and ass u m e accessible fo rm if t h e y were to have o t h e r
t h a n i d i osyncratic o r psy chopathological meaning.
Crucial for D u rkheim was the basis in society o f all major symb o l i c
systems a n d m o d e s o f c o m m u n i c a t i o n . T h i s i d e a , w h i c h raised p r o b l e m s
a t t h e intersection o f epistemo logy a n d social psychology, w h i c h Durkheim
d i d not treat, applied t o the natural sciences as well as to religion o r mo
rali ty.
In reality, science is s o m e t h i n g pre-eminently social, however great

the role of individuals may be i n it. I t is social b e cause i t s m e t h o d s
a n d t e c h n i q u e s are the work of t r a d i t i o n , a n d t h e y constrain t h e
person with an authority comparable to that o f rules of law o r
morals. T h e y are t r u l y i n s t i t u t i o n s which a p p l y t o t h o ug h t , j us t
as j u ridical and p o l i t i c a l i n s t i t u t i o n s are obligatory m e t h o d s o f ac
t i o n . In a d d i t i o n , s c i e n ce is social b e cause it u t i l i z e s n o t i o n s which
dominate all thought and i n which all of civilization is condensed:
the categories.2 9
The role o f neo-Kantianism i n Durkheim's thought was revealed in the

significance h e attributed to the categories. "If the mind is a synthetic ex
pression of the world, the system of categories is a synthetic expression of the
human m i n d . " 3 0 T h e categories, for D u rkheim, were the fundamental logical
institutions of the human mind conceived as a sociocultural reality with an
organic base. By identifYing the category with his own notion of the collec
tive representation, he simultaneously grounded it i n culture and society and
expanded its range of application to encompass all forms of symbolic experi
ence. "De quelques formes primitives de classification" (Primitive Classfication,
1 90 1 ) , written by Durkheim in collaboration with Mauss, had the virtue of
demonstrating, with some oversimplification, the systematic and meaningful
character of classifi catory systems in "primi tive" societies. Despite the ten
dentiousness o f his own u l t i m ate scheme of interpretation, the fun damental
step Durkheim took was t o open up to epistemological reflection the entire
gamut of human cultures and symbo lically informed systems, including social
structure and religion.
Although the postulates of his own social metaphysic j eopardized his effort,
Durkheim further intended his conception of epistemo logy t o serve as a way
of overcoming the antinomy between, or at least of providing a compromise
fo rmation linking, empiricism and apriorism.
The rationalism which is immanent in a sociological theory o f knowl

edge is an intermediary b etween empiricism and classical apriorism.
For the first, the categories are p urely artificial constructions; fo r the
second, they are, o n the contrary, natural givens. For us, they are in a
sense works of art, b u t of an art which imi rates nature with a perfection
susceptible of growing without limit.J l
The catego ry, in other words, was neither a p u rely nominalistic l a b e l nor
the natural scaffolding o f the m i n d . I t was s i m ultaneously a sociocultural
given and the product of human activi t y - an historical monument b ui l t t o
withstand t h e erosive pressure of a n o m i e . On t h e whole, however, D urkheim
remained closer t o the apriorist side o f the classical antagonism, and h i s
social metaphysic revealed the extent to which h e was unable t o transcend
dualism through a more dialectical or dialogic m o de o f t h o u g h t . H e was
possessed o f an inordinate sense o f the conceptual presence o f categories.
This was i n d i cated i n his specific interpretation of structural analysis and the
i m p o rtance o f the concept. 'To conceive a thing is simultaneously to grasp
more adequately its essential elements and to situate it within a whole; for
each civilization has i t s organized system of concepts which characterize i t .
Before this system o f notions, the individual m i n d is i n t h e s a m e situation
as t h e N o u s of Plato before the world of ldeas."32
In The Elementary Forms, the problem of determining the essential con
stituents o f religion joined that o f comparing science to symbolic systems
prevalent i n "primi tive" societies. Ye t in this respect Durkheim's argument
was almost entirely s u b o rdinated to his social metaphysic. As a preface to
t h e discussion of the m e taphysical chapter of Durkheimism, it is interest
ing t o c o m p are t h e a t t e m p t o f Claude Levi-Strauss to address h i mself to
problems similar to those of Durkheim.
Although Levi-Strauss refuses to admit a philosophical intention, his
book La Pensee sau vage ( Th e Savage Mind) might well b e taken as a study
i n epistemology. In this work, Levi-Strauss sought out a structure of the
mind that was pre-eminently characteristic of certain societies b ut which
represented a p e r m a n e n t given, o r at least an ever-present possibi l i ty, i n
human experience. T h u s t h e object o f i n vestigation was n o t t h e thought
of the savages but savage thought as a symbolic form o r archetypical m o d e
of articulating experience. T h e English t e r m "savage thought" ( a n d even
more so, "the savage m i n d , " with its resurrection of Lucien Levy-Bruhl and
his penchant fo r unbridgeable antipathies b e tween the primitive and the
modern) obviously fails t o capture the relevance and symbolic weight of
the French express i o n . La pensee sauvage refers ambiguously to culture (a
structure of the human mind) and to nature (to a species of fl ower, the wild
pansy). Thus it not only l i terally denotes, but metaphori cally expresses, the
t y p e of comprehensive paradigm that correlates culture and nature.
Within Ia pensee sau vage, one may distinguish two dialectically related
levels, or (in the Hegelian sense) "moments." La pensee sauvage constitutes
une theorie du sensible o r a structure of percep t i o n , b u t it o p e rates s i m u l ta
neously on two levels: the literal and t h e metaphoric. Often its meticulous
classifl.cations of natural phenomena can b e correlated w i t h those o f positive
sciences like b o tany, which approach reality o n the same strategic level of
perception. In all cases, it manifests a close and sustained attention to natural
phenomena and processes that are o p e n to sensory perception. Moreover,
Its technology, e . g . , in metal-working, reveals the product, not of chance

discovery, b ut o f experimentation. In t h i s sense, the "Neolithic revol u t i o n , "
bringing t h e a r t s o f civilization like agriculture, p o t t ery, and weaving, which
still remain as a fou n d a t i o n of modern culture, was an achievement o f Ia
pensee sauvage.
B u t observation, within the context of Ia penst!e sauvage, i s not separated
fro m o t h e r levels o f experience to result in a p o s i ti v i s t i c n o ti o n o f n a t u r e .
N o r i s t e c h n o l ogy s e e n as an e x p r e s s i o n o f u n i l a t e r a l d o m i n at i o n over
nature by h u m a n s ; it is r a t h e r a m e d i a t o r b e t w e e n culture and n a t u r e . In
other words, b o th o b s e r v a t i o n a n d applied knowledge are i m p l i c a t e d i n
m o r e e n c o m p a s s i n g structures w h i c h p l a c e t h e m w i t h i n a b r o a d e r s c o p e
o f n o r m a tive regu l a ti o n , i m ag i n a t i v e m u t u a l i ty, a n d e m o t i o n a l response.
"Enveloping t e r m s , which c o n fo u n d e d i n a s o r t of s u r r e a l i ty the o b j e cts
o f p e r c e p t i o n a n d the e m o t i o n s they a r o u s e d , p r e c eded analytic r e d u c
t i o n in t h e s t r i c t s e n s e . " 3 3 N o t i o n s are "ensnared" in i m ages like b i r d s
i n qui cklime, and t h e y i m p l y an i n tr i c a t e n e t w o r k o f c o r r e l a t i o n s and
correspondences a m o n g various levels of e x p e r i e n c e . T h e u l t i m a t e logi
cal i n t e n t i o n o f t h i s m o d e of t h o u g h t is cosm i c . A n d prom i n e n t i n t h e
a t t e m p t t o classify t h e elements o f t h e known universe i n a m e a n i ngfu l
manner are correlations b etween social a n d n a t u r a l p h e n o m e n a . " T h e
mythical system o f r e p r e s e n t a t i o n s serves t o e s t a b l i s h r e l a t i o n s o f h o m o l
o g y b e tw e e n natural c o n d i t i o n s a n d s o c i a l c o n d i t i o n s . O r m o r e exactly, i t
d e fi n e s a law o f e q u i valence a m o n g m e a n i ngful contrasts which are s i t u
ated on several levels: geographical, m e t e o r o l o g i c a l , z o o l o g i c a l , b o t anical,
t e c h n i c a l , e c o n o m i c , social, r i t u a l , religious, p h i l o s o p h i c a l . " 34
From t h i s p o i n t of v i e w, t h e i n t i m a t e r e l a t i o n s between religion and
m a g i c w i t h i n the c o n t e x t o f Ia p enst!e sauvage b e co m e m a n i fe s t . They
represent c o m p l e m e n tary directions taken b y t h e imaginative m u t u a l i ty
of h u m ans a n d n a t u r e .
If i t can i n a sense b e s a i d t h a t r e l i g i o n c o n s i s t s o f a h u m a n i z a t i o n
of n a t u r a l laws and m a g i c o f a n a t u r a l i z a t i o n o f h u m a n a c t i o n s
- t h e t r e a t m e n t o f c e r t a i n h u m a n a c t i o n s as if t h e y w e r e a n i n
tegral p a r t of physical d e t e r m i n i s m - t h i s is n o t t o s a y t h a t these
are alternatives o r stages i n an e v o l u ti o n . T h e a n t h r o p o m o r p h i s m
o f n a t u r e (of w h i c h religion consists) an d t h e p h ys i o m o r p h i s m
of m a n ( b y w h i c h we have d e fi n e d magic) c o n s t i t u t e two com

p o n e n t s w h i c h are always given, a n d vary only i n p r o p o r t i o n . . . .
Each i m p l i e s t h e o t h e r. There is no religion w i t h o u t magic, any
m o r e than there is magic without a t least a trace o f religion. The
notion o f a supernature exists only fo r a h u manity which a t t r i b u t e s
s u p e r n a t u r a l powers t o i t s e l f and i n return ascri b e s t h e p o w e r s o f
its s u p e r h u m a n i t y t o n a t u r e . 3 5
We have already ob served t h a t for Levi-Strauss totemism i s n o t the global

institution invariably combining kinship and religion that i t was for Durkheim.
It is an instance of the general logical principle of differentiation and inte
grati o n . With i n t h e context of !a penseesau vage, totemism posits a metaphoric
h o m ology between a binary opposition of natural species (the totems) and a
binary opposition of human groups. This ordering principle is avai lable for
a complex variety of uses in society. B u t its usage as a principle of kinship
may not coincide with religious belief, and vice versa. From Levi-Strauss's
viewpoint, the attempt to explain away facts by unfounded evolutionary
hypotheses has no relation to scientific theory. The theoretical problem, at a
higher level of u n derstanding, is to discover the higher-order paradigms that
account for the actual correlations among aspects of cultural life or represent
possible variations of them.
For Levi-Strauss, all thought employs the same formal logical principles,
such as opposition and correlation. In this sense, no thought is "prelogical."
But significant differences do exist both between symb olic forms and b e tween
t h e i r actual p revalence i n different societies. I n t h e principal fields of modern
life characterized b y technology and b u reaucracy, Ia pensie sau vage is rather
wilted; it flourishes largely in marginal areas, such as certain fo rms of art. The
level of concrete perception has diminished importance, and it is difficult to
conceive o f truly credible paradigms that i ntegrate or at least relate the literal
and the metaphoric in shared experience. Positive science appears as a "do
mesticated" fo rm of t h o u g h t t h a t approaches reality on a m o re s o p h isticated
strategic level - that of conceptual formulation and mathematical notation
- and it results i n a more operational knowledge o f nature. But the price i t
often pays i s fragmentation and the alienation ofh umans fro m more inclusive
structures of experience. Symbolism, in general, tends to become formally
rationalized and emotionally neu tralized.
This b r i e f discussion o f Levi-Strauss's thought i s i n t e n d e d merely to

i n d i cate the areas of vital i n terest touched u p o n in D u r k h e i m's i d e a of a
sociological epistemology. The problems that I have s u p erfi cially treated did
receive some attention from D u r k h e i m , b u t his ideas remained disparate
a n d were given a semblance of coherence only through the medium o f
his social m e t a physic.36
Yet what seem like gains in comparison with D u rk h e i m may also in
volve p o s s i b l e losses. In a thinker like Levi-Strauss, one at t i m e s senses an
unresolved tension between h u m a n warmth and fo rmalism, clarity and
o b scurantist preciosity, a feeling for the i nterplay between the literal and the
metaphoric, and a somewhat technocratic fascination fo r the manipulation
o f a n alytically reduced "logical operators."37 Durkhei m's social m et a physic
was h i s surrogate fo r religious belief and his inspiration fo r social action.
Unfo r t u n a tely, in confi ding in s o m e t h i n g as palpably i n e ffective as social
m e t a p h y s i c , D u rk h e i m dissipated b o t h h i s m assive intelligence and h i s
g e n u i n e s p i r i t u a l i n t e nsity. F r o m him o n e m i g h t have e x p e c t e d a m o r e
convincing a t t e m p t t o fo rge a synthesis b e t w e e n u n co o rdinated elements
o f m o de r n e x p e r ience and the h e r i tage o f devaluated s y m b olic fo r m s .
Social Afetaphysic
Like o t h e r c o m p a r a b l e systems of the t i m e - e . g . , t h o s e of Marx

o r Freud - Durkheim's social m e taphysic ulti mately conceived of in
terpretation i n the fo r m of reductionism. lt presented a truncated and
i m p overished n o t i o n of reality that i d entifi ed adequate analysis with t h e
sacrifi ce of t h e c o m p l e x i t y and diversity o f h u m a n e x p e r i e n c e o n t h e
altar of a unilateral fi x a t i o n . To a l l p r o b l e m s i n h i s t o r y a n d p h i l o s o p hy,
D u rkheim fe lt j ustifi ed i n offering what came i n t i m e to b e a p refab
ricated and mechani cal "s ociological" s o l u t i o n whose very predictability
and fac i l e app l i cab i l i ty were i n d i ca t i o n s of s u p e r fi c i a l i t y and c i r c u l a r i ty.
The operational u p s h o t of D u rkheimian social m e t a p hys i c was a sociolo
gistic m e t h o d o logy which recently has taken the fo rm of radical social
constructivi s m . This i n t e r p retive schema accounted fo r all symbolically
informed p h e n o m e n a in terms o f the contrast b e tween social reality ( o r
anti-essentialist social c o n s t r u c t i o n ) a n d cultural "dress . " In o t h e r words,
Chapter 6 The Sacred and Society 26.3
h u m a n experience was i n t erpreted as i f s o c i e t y ( o ften a vague c o n c e p t i n

itself) o r s o m e s p e cifi ed s o c i a l d i m e n s i o n (gender, sexuali ty, race, class) was
the b a s i c c o n s t i t utive reality and all other aspects of culture were derivative
o r secondary m a n i festations. A sociologistic m e t h o dology was t o be fo u n d
even i n theorists w h o rejected o t h e r e l e m e n ts o f Durkheim's heritage, e . g . ,
t h e relative de-emphasis o f s o c i a l c o n fl i ct a n d i t s fu n c t i o n s . F o r example,
Edmund Leach fel t j ustifi ed in p refacing h i s i m p o r t a n t work, The Political
Systems of Highland Burma, w i t h the declaration:
M y view h e r e is t h a t r i t u al a c t i o n a n d belief are alike to be u n d e r

s t o o d as fo rms of sym b o l i c s t a t e m e n t a b o u t t h e s o c i a l o r d e r . . . .
C u l t u r e provides t h e fo r m , t h e "dress" o f the s o c i a l s i t u a t i o n . As
far as I a m c o n c e r n e d , the cultural s i t u a t i o n is a given factor, i t is
a p r o d u c t a n d an accident o f h i s t o ry. I do n o t know w h y Kachin
w o m e n go hatless with b o b b e d hair b efo re t h e y a r e married, b u t
assume a t u r b a n a fterwards, any m o r e than I know why English
w o m e n p u t a ring on a p a r t i c u l a r finger to d e n o t e the same change
in s o c i a l s t a t u s ; a l l I am i n terested in is that in this Kachin context
t h e assumption of a turban b y a w o m a n does h ave this s y m b o l i c
signifi cance. I t is a s t a t e m e n t a b o u t the s t a t u s o f the w o m a n . 3 8
T h e l a s t i n g a c h i e v e m e n t o f L e v i - S t r a u s s i n a n t h r o p o l ogy w a s t h e
awareness t h a t s y m b o l i c systems, e s p e c i a l l y i n certain s o c i e t i e s , engaged
p r o b l e m s o f m e a n i n g and coherence; t h a t t h e i r r e d u c t i o n to social factors
(or u t i l i t a r i a n n e e d s , economics, b i o l o gy, and so fo r t h ) might i t s e l f be a
reB ection of m o d e r n e t h n o c e n t r i s m ; a n d t h a t t h e p r o b l e m was, rather, the
r e l a t i o n s h i p s among vari o u s levels o f experience and signifying p ractices.
But sociologism, social fu nctionalism, and radical social constructivism are
t h e o p e ra t i o n a l " r a t i o n a l ization" ( i n t h e Web e r i a n sense) of D u r k h e i m's
thought, w h i c h at times c o n s c i o u s ly e m p loy t h e language o f p e r s pectives,
interests, and arbitrary i n i t i a l definitions. D u rkheim's sociologism was p a r t
a n d p a r c e l o f a genuinely m e t aphysical v i e w. D u r k h e i m n o t o n l y r e t a i n e d
t h e classical c o m m i t m e n t to truth a n d realistic defi n i t i o n , b u t h i s search
fo r the reality o f things was c o nveyed in a n i n creasingly mystiq u e - l a d e n
fo rm o f d i s c o u rs e w h i c h h e used to reco u n t a n e l a b o r a t e myth of origins
and an i d eology o f modern so ciety which had a d i s t i n ctive r o l e i n his
own Third R e p u b l i c .
26 4 Emile Du rkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
In The Elementary Forms ofthe Religious Life, the argument that religion
was the origin o f culture culminated i n the idea that society was the origin
a n d essence of religion. Since the fi rst ideas of humans were representations
of religious reali ty, soci ety was consequently also the origin of the catego
ries. InThe Elementary Forms, the piece of argument directly addressed to
the identity o f G o d and society was little more than a fo rm of pars pro toto
legerdemain fo llowed by a string of rhetorical questions:
[The totem] is the outward and visible fo rm of what we have called

the totemic principle or god. But it is also the symbol o f the deter
minate society called the clan. It is its flag; it is the sign by which
each clan distinguishes itself from the others, the visible mark o f its
personali ty, a mark borne b y everything which is a part of the clan
under any title whatsoever, men, beasts, or things. So if it is at once
t h e symb o l of the god and o f t h e society, is that not because t h e god
and the society are only one? How could the emblem of the group
have been able to b ecome the figure of this quasi divinity if the group
and the divinity were two distinct entities? The god o f the clan, the
totemic principle, can therefore be nothing else than the clan itself,
personified and represented to the imagination under the visible form
of the animal o r vegetable which serves as totem.39
Thus Durkheim felt entitled to conclude, n o t only that religi o u s belief

a n d ritual had social functions, or even social aspects, b u t that they were
specifically, o r sui generis, social in essential reality and origin. Of ritual,
h e wrote:
Everything leads u s back to the same idea: i t is that rituals are above
all else the means by which the social group reaffi rms itself peri
odi cally. F r o m t h i s , we m a y perhaps arrive a t a hypothetical recon
struction of the manner in which the totemic cult must primi tively
have been born. Men who feel themselves united in part through
bonds o f b l o o d b ut still more through a community o f interests and
traditions assemble and b e c o m e conscious o f their moral unity . . . .
T h e moral effi cacy o f ritual, which is real, led men to believe i n
i t s physical effi cacy, which is i m aginary . . . . T h e truly useful effects
which ceremonies produce are like the experimental j ustification of
the elementary practices of which they are c o m posed.40
T h e full sweep and nature of the argu m e n t in The Elementary Fo rms are
better understood if one sees it i n the light o f D urkhei m's preparatory articles
o n related p r o b l e m s , especially his study of the i n c e s t t a b o o .4 1 Durkheim
began with the root assumption that social solidarity and social structure
were u l t i m a t e realities and explanatory p r i n c i p l e s . Continuity with his
earlier thought was embodied in the belief that community was prior to
the structural differentiations which stemmed fro m it. Beginning with the
idea of a group o f people who had some sense of their m o r a l and social
c o m m u n i ty, Durkheim introduced the idea o f "collective effervescence" as
a transitional force that led to the genesis of religious cults. Collective ef
fervescence was in this sense a sacralizing, mana-like elan, which intensified
the sense o f c o m m u n i ty until i t attained religious proportions and p r o p e l l e d
humans from the s t a t e of n a t u r e i n t o t h a t of c u l t u r e and soci ety.
I n h i s article on the incest t a b o o , Dur kheim was even m o r e specifi c
in his elaboration o f a sociologistic myth of origins. Seized by a n inten
sifi ed sense of their own solidarity, the group selected a totem to serve as
its e m b l e m . Its unity was s o l i d i fi e d b y the myth o f a common t o t e m i c
an cestor w h o s e blood w a s im agined to Row i n t h e v e i n s o f t h e c l a n . T h e
asso c i a t i o n b etween t h e imaginary m ythical b l o o d o f t h e c o m m u n a l clan
and the very real menstrual b l o o d of its fem ale members presumably p r o
v o k e d horror at t h e idea o f c l a n endogamy. T h u s , although totemism was
i n fact a restricted p h e n o m e n o n and the p r o h i b i t i o n of i n c e s t a universal
p h e n o m e n o n , the myth of origins, which led fro m s o c i a l solidarity to
t o t e m i s m , caused Durkheim to b e lieve that incest derived fro m a s p e c i fi c
totemic taboo. Evolutionary i d e a s , i n t h i s way, t o o k on a fully mythical
cast. I n d e e d D u r k h e i m's d i fficulty with p r o b l e m s of gender and sexuality
was here m a n i fest in a particu larly bewildering, question-b egging form .
H e relied on a logic ( o r non-logic) of association t o l i n k the m e t a p h o r i c
blood mythically s h a r e d by the c l a n and the r e a l menstrual blood o f i t s
women m e m b e r s i n o r d e r to provide a p s e udo-explanation fo r t h e p r o
h i b i t i o n of incest. W o m e n , w h o m D u r kheim d e s c r i b e d a s "a t h e a t e r o f
bloody manifes t a t i o n s , " were singled o u t , even scapegoated, as a point o f
spreading contagion that provoked ritual anxiety o r p h o b i a in the m e n o f
t h e clan - a sacred horror w h i c h somehow p r o d u c e d t h e incest t a b o o .
T h e profound i l l o g i c o f t h i s seeming l o g i c o f association n o t only derived
the universal (the incest taboo) fro m the particular or at best the typical
(totemism ) ; i t fu rther p articularized or localized the "origin" of the universal

i n the gendered, sexed "nature" or state of w o m e n .
Durkheim confro nted the obvious p r o b l e m of why, on his view, there was
not a spread of ritual horror, via menstruation, to all women, eventuating
in a taboo, or at least a sense of ritual danger and disgust, not only with
respect to incest b u t t o all (hetero )sexual relations. Appealing, in circular
fashion, t o evolutionary or developmental assumptions, h e "explained" that
this broader contagion did indeed occur b u t only at a later stage, that is, after
the decline of totemic institu tions and in weakened or diluted form. Given
the almost transparent logical difficulties i n his account, one is tempted to
conclude that Du rkheim manhandled his insights concerning sexuali ty, t h e
sacred, and taboo by i m p licitly begi n n i n g w i t h a prejudicial p o s t u l a t i o n or
experience of ritual horror at contamination through the menstrual blood of
women that he projectively employed to elaborate an implausible "theory"
of the origin of the incest taboo - a "theory" which was little more than
a specious secondary revision. Still, his views had significant symptomatic
value insofar as they were not idiosyncratic to him b u t ind icative of more
preva l e n t a n x i eties and q u asi-ritual fears of c o n t a m i n a t i o n that ch aracterized
men at the t i m e o r even in some more general b u t indeterminate manner
- anxieties and fears that might, in the context of the ambivalence of the
sacred, b e combined with a sense o f mystery and attracti on/repulsion sur
rounding sexuality. T h e y also had the m e r i t of m a k i n g explicit and o p ening
t o critical scrutiny at least one variant o f "irrational" response to sexuality
that could not b e reduced to matters of hygiene, medicalized precaution,
or indeed any fo rm of instrumental ratio nali ty. Durkheim sensed the ways
in which sex could n o t be m a d e entirely "safe" in that it was i m p l icated i n
t h e dialectic o f p u ri t y a n d danger w i t h t i e s t o the sacred, t h e ritualistic, and
the strangely disconcerting. Whatever o n e may think of his s p e c i fi c way of
theorizing this complex o f problems, h e p u t it o n the agenda of social and
cultural thought in a manner that later thinkers, such as G e orges Bataille,
Rene G i rard, Michel Foucault, and J u l i a Kristeva, would take up i n t h e i r
own m o r e o r less problematic ways.
Apparent in Durkheim's social metaphysic of religion was the extent to
which his argument depended on modern presuppositions which in fact
were typical o f one i m p ortant dimension o f his thought as a whole. From
the very outset, Durkheim analytically dissociated intelligible reality i n t o
a realm of material nature and an autonomous realm of social facts. H e

conceived this realm o f social facts i n "hyperspiritu al" terms and i dentifi ed
it increasingly with the ob j e e r of idealistic philosophy. In the extremely
dualistic, Cartesianized neo-Kantian tendency of D u rkheim's thought, the
human being was homo dup lex - a composite of a b o d y and an ideal o r
s p i r i t u al social self.
D u rk h e i m d i d n o t d e v o t e s u ffi c i e n t a t t e n t i O n to the i n t e r a c t i o n s
b e t w e e n b o d y a n d m i n d , e v e n w h e n t h e y c o u l d b e form ulated literally,
e . g . , genetically o r psychosomati cally. Possible m e t a p h o r i c relations often
seemed to be completely beyond h i s ken. Indeed h i s tendency to p r o m o t e
a t e n s e , at t i m e s ambivalent d u a l i t y b e t w e e n interacting fo rces into a b i
n a r i s t i c m i n d- b o d y ( o r society-individual) d u a l i s m i n h i b i t e d h i s a b i l ity
to elaborate a n o t i o n of the socio-symbolic dimensions of the b o d y i tself.
And h i s analysis of t h e symbolic effi cacy of ritual neglected t o consider the
very real effe cts o f religion and magic on the organic and psychological
processes of the b e l i ever.
Epistemologi cally, D u rkhei m's d u a l i s t i c c o n c e p t i o n of human nature
led h i m to restrict his atte n t i o n to s e n s a t i o n , which h e correlated with
the "individual" b o dy, and the concept, which he correlated with the spe
cifica lly, hyper-spiri tualistically social. This frame o f reference was fully
developed i n h i s 1 8 98 article, " I n d i v i d u a l Representations and Collective
Representati o n s . " T h e " i ndividual representation" was the sensation. The
"collective representation" was the concept. Durkheim devoted n o attention
in his understanding of e p i s te m o l ogy to p e r c e p t i o n , imagination, e m o t i o n ,
personal uniqueness, a n d the r e l a t i o n o f t h o u g h t t o action. T h i s o m i s s i o n
created a logical gap between his epistemological p r e s u p p o s i t i o n s and such
of h i s methodological notions as "social morphology" ( w h i c h i n general was
comparable to the anthropological n o t i o n of "material culture"), sentiment,
anomie, the role of the i n d i v id ual in culture, and the relation o f theory
and practice in the passage fro m p a t h o l ogy to n o r m a l i ty. I t also accounted
fo r h i s c u r i o u s c o n c e p t i o n o f ec o n o m i cs as the study of t h e i n dividual a n d
t h e material - a n o t i o n t h a t d i d little j u s t i c e t o t h e problem o f e c o n o m i c
i n s t i t u t i o n s . I n b r i ef, t h e extremely d u a l i s t i c a s s u m p t i o n s o f h i s s o c i a l
m e t a p h y s i c and i t s epi stemological corollaries s u b o r d i n a t e d a tensely and
o p e n l y dialectical ( o r dialogic) conception o f experience t o a r i g i d idea of
disjunctive antinomies o r b i n a r y o p p o s i t i o n s .
When Durkheim came to devote special a t t e n tion to the sacred, h e

was faced w i t h a p r o b l e m o f classifi cation created b y t h e presuppositions
of one element o f his thought. H e solved it by placing the sacred i n the
category o f the specifi cally social and interpreting its various manifesta
tions as "superpositions" of the social and the "hyperspiritual." I n his " L e
D u a l i s m e de I a n a t u re h u m a i n e e t s e s c o n d i t i o n s sociales" ( 1 9 1 4) , which
h e first presented as a speech to his spiritualistic, neo-Kantian peer group
at the Societe Frans:aise d e Philosophie, Durkheim argued that the basic
contribution o f The Elementary Fo rms w a s to show that t h e sociology o f
religion provided confi rmation fo r t h e traditional i d e a of a dualism b etween
b o d y and s p i r i t in man. In other words, D urkheim asserted that his inter
pretation of religion revealed that the m i n d - b o dy dualism was an essential
characteristic of human nature - a viewpoint that seems to raise the specific
(if not the p athological) t o t h e universal. Thus Durkheim's primary line of
development in an increasingly idealistic direction was to be fou nd in h i s
growing reliance o n antinomies or b i n a r y oppositions - a reliance which
culminated i n the idea of homo duplex. H e conceived o f the passage from
nature to culture as the spiritual arousal o f the inert or quiescent grou p , like
the conglomerate body of s o m e incredible Frankenstein m o nster, through
the electric charge o f "collective effervescence" which mysteriously generated
t h e " h y p e r s p i r i t u a l " ideals o f c i v i l i z at i o n .
B u t b o t h i n h i s emphasis o n sacred community a n d i n h i s s o c i ological
(or sociologistic) reformulation of the idea of homo duplex, D urkheim's
thought represented a reaction agai nst extreme variants of secularization i n
modern culture. M e taphors a n d imagination, excluded fro m o t h e r spheres
of experience, Hooded Durkheim's idea of the social thro ugh the n arrow
channel left o p e n by his conceptualistic and s p i r i t ualistic tendencies. With
increasing abandon, Durkheim gave himself, not to devel oping concrete
images of social life, b u t to composing allegories in the form of abstract
conceptual prose poems a b o u t the true nature of soci ety. The sacred was
society expressed metaphorically. Incarnation fo und its reality i n the pro
cess o f socialization. Roles assumed the quality of sanctified callings. And
t h e educator had a truly priest-like fun ct i o n as the i ntermediary between
society and its members.
T h e b eliever bows down b e fore God b e cause i t is fro m God that

h e b elieves h e receives his being, and particularly his mental being,
his s o u l . We have the same reasons to fee l this sentiment for the
collectivi tyY
What indeed is discipline if not society conceived as what commands

us, dictates orders, and gives us laws? And in the second element of
morality - the attachment to a group - i t i s again society that we
fi nd, b u t conceived this time as a good and desirable thing, an end
which attracts us, an ideal to be realized. In the fo rmer sense, i t app ears
to us as an authority which contains us, fixes limits which resist o u r
infringements, and b efore which w e bow w i t h religious respect; i n the
latter sense, i t i s a friendly and protecting power, a nursing mother,
from whom we receive the principal part of our intellectual and m oral
substance and toward whom our wills are turned in an elan of grati tude
and love. In one case, it is like the j ealous and fearful god, the severe
legislator, who does n o t permit his orders to be transgressed; in the
other, i t is the divinity who cares for us and for whom the believer
sacrifices himself with j oy.
What constitutes the authority which colors ro readily the word of the
priest is the elevated idea h e has of his mission; for he speaks i n the name
of a god i n which he be lieves and toward which h e feels closer than the
crowd of the profane. The lay teacher can and must have something
o f t h i s s e n t i m e n t . He too is the organ of a great moral person which
transcends him; this is society. J u s t as t h e priest is the interpreter of
his god, so the teacher is the interpreter of the great moral ideas of his
time and country.43
In short, society has "all that it takes [tout ce qu'i l fout]" to inspire the
idea of the sacre d , " b ecause i t i s to its members what a god is to b elievers."44
Durkheim perceived social metaphysics as the symbolic groundwork fo r a
conception of social ethics that allowed fo r sentiment and emotion. Indeed the
much-heralded "death of G od " was b u t a prelude to t h e b i rt h of Society.
One will notice the analogy be tween this line of reasoning and that by
which Kant demonstrates God. Kant postulates God because, without
this hypothesis, m orality is unintelligible. We postulate a society spe
cifi cally distinct from individuals b ecause otherwise morality i s without
an object and duty without an anchor point . . . . Between God and
society one must choose . . I may add that, from my point of view,
. .
this choice leaves me indifferent, b e cause I see in divinity only society

transfi gured and conceived sym b o l i c ally.45
So, one must choose, b u t the choice is a non-choice in that G o d is the

symbol of Society. (Heads I win; tails you lose.) Still, there is an important
sense in which, from beginning to end, morality constituted the center of
Durkheim's thought. And he believed that his substantively rational conception
of morality was not undermined but fortified and completed by his social
philoso phy. Some quasi-religious basis was necessary fo r all morality and social
solidarity. But the beliefs that justified religion had increasingly lost credibility
in the modern world. For Durkheim, sociology itself had the task of providing
a theoretical fo undation for religion - a fo undation that would simultaneously
serve as its own ultimate legitimation. Hence Durkheim made the almost Thomis
tic effo rt to reconcile reason and faith, but in a secularized fashion adapted to the
needs of modern society.
T h e vision of a society based upon truth and j u st i c e and able to reconcile
reason and the ritual attitude o f sacred respect was vital to D u rkheim's i d e a
of structural reform i n m o d e r n soci ety. It w a s a l s o i m p o r t a n t for h i s i d e a
of t h e s p e c i a l mission o f sociology i n his own France. S o c i al mys t i q u e was
intended as a means of strengthening resolve and inspiring action for the
achievement and m a i n t e n a n c e of the normal s o c i e ty. In The Elem entary
Fo rms, D u rkhei m's concluding call fo r a revival of the s p i r i t and a renewal
of the work of the French Revo lution gave vibrant p r o o f that his last rn a jor
work was con ceived against the background of the need for social action to
effect a passage fro m pathology to normality in modern society.
If we find i t difficult to i m agine what the feasts and ceremonies of the

fu ture could consist in, this is because we are going through a stage of
transition and m o ral mediocri ty. The great things of the past which
filled our fathers with enthusiasm do not excite the same ardor i n us,
either because they have passed into common usage to such an extent
that we are unconscious of them, or else because they no longer answer
our present aspirations . . . . In a word, the old gods are growing old or are
already dead, and others are not yet born. This is what made vain the
attempt of Comte to organize a religion with old historical memories
artificially revived. I t is fro m life itself and not fro m the dead past that
a living cult can emerge. But this state of incertitude and confused
agitation cannot last fo rever. A day will come when our societies will
know again those hours of creative effervescence in which new ideals
will surge up and new fo rmulas will crystallize to serve for a while as a
Chapter 6 The Sacred and Society 27 I
guide to humanity. Once these hours have been experienced, men will
spontaneously fe d the need to keep their memory alive through feasts
which periodically reproduce their creations. We have already seen how
the French Revo l u t i o n established a w h o l e cycle of holi days to keep
the principles with which it was inspired in a state of perpetual youth.
If this institution q u i ckly fell away, i t was because the revolutionary
fai t h lasted b u t a moment, and disappointment and discouragement
rapidly succeeded the first moments of enthusiasm. Although the work
miscarried, i t enables us to imagine what might have happened in other
conditions; and everything leads us to believe t h a t it will be taken up
again sooner or later.46
Since D urkheim's death, quasi-religious ideologies have indeed often be

come social and political i n nature. And his social metaphysic (which at least
had the virtue of being explicit and manifestly open t o question) has been
displaced into perhaps even more deceptive, prevalent, and frequen tly unques
tioned forms of radical social constru ctivism through which all meaning and
value are assumed to be sui generis social in nature and origin. Unfortunately,
little i n modern history has realized D urkheim's generous hope for a solidar
istic society based on reason and j ustice. D urkheim died before his optimism
could b e severely tested b y rna jor contemporary events. On a more theoreti
cal level, however, h e at times seemed to sense the tenuous basis of a social
metaphysic which relied on questionable binaries and accepted the breakdown
of comprehensive normative and cogni tive paradigms as the ne plus ultra of
modern experience. At these times, he offered intimations of an integration of
the natural sciences, technology, and social structure into grippi ngly i n clusive
structures that extended the gift of solidarity to all of existence. Before his
neo-Kantian colleagues at t h e Societe Franaise de Philosophie, he observed:
"Nothing tells us that nature will not take up in the future, in a new form, the
moral quality which it has lost. Perhaps a t i m e will c o m e when we will fi n d it
morally blameworthy t o perform any unnecessary destruction."47
The one basic aspect o f symbolic systems i n certain societies that The
Elementary Forms p laced i n sharp relief was the i m p ortance of the microcosm
macrocosm schema in the comprehensive fo rmulation of shared experience.
Social metaphysic induced Durkheim to perceive the cosmic archetype as a
generalized projection of t h e specifically social institution. But a m i n o r t h e m e
of The Elementar_y Forms was the manner i n which t h e social microcosm might,
however self-questioningly, b e integrated into cosmic paradigms which allowed

fo r an intelligible articulation of other aspects o f b o t h literal and metaphoric
perspectives on reality. Whether one reads Th e Elementary Forms as the nar
row and somewhat mystified basis fo r an ideo logy of the speci fically social
and the exclusively moral or as a problematic intimation of some broader
vision o f culture in the most comprehensive sense, one may conclude that
in it Durkheim became the Plato o f the Australian b lackfellows in order to
emerge as the Angelic Doctor of consensual society.
Chapter 6 The Sacred and Society 27.3
Notes
1. Robert Lowie, Primitive Religion (f rst pub. 1 924; New York: Universal Press,
1 9 5 2 ) , p. 1 57 .
2. Talcott Parsons, The Structure of Social Action (first pub. 1 93 7 ; Glencoe,
I l l . : Free Press , 1 94 9 ) , p. 4 1 1 . Later Parsons made a similar evaluation: "An
thropological research has enormously enriched our knowledge in this field,
though Durkheim's codification and analysis of Australian totemism remains
perhaps the most eminent single monographic contribution, because it is
both a great monograph and much more than that" (In trod. to Max Weber's
The Sociology ofReligion [Boston: Beacon Press, 1 96 3 ] , p . xxvii). See also On
Durkheim's Elementary Forms of the Religious L{(e, ed. N . J . Allen, W. S. F.
Pickering, and W. Watts Miller (London: Routledge, 1 9 9 8 ) .
3 . I I ( 1 897- 1 8 9 8 ) ; i n Kurt Woolf, e d . , Essays o n Sociology and Philosophy (first
pub. 1 9 6 0 ; New York: Harper & Row, 1 964), pp. 3 5 0 -3 5 1 .
4 . Les Formes elimentaires de la vie religieuse (4th ed.; Paris: Presses Universitaires
de France, 1 9 6 0), p. 1 1 .
5 . " D e L a Definition d u phenomene religi eux," Annie sociologique, I I ( 1 897-
1 8 98 ) , 1 3 .
G. Formes ilimentaires de la vie religieuse, p p . 3 5 - 3 6 .
7. Ibid. , p . 6 5 .
8 . Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss, "Esquisse d'une theorie generale d e Ia
magi e," Annie sociologique, VII ( 1 9 0 1 - 1 902) ; reprinted in Marcel Mauss,
Sociologie et anthropologie (first pub. 1 9 5 0 ; Paris: Presses Universitaires de
France, 1 98 8 ) , pp. 3- 1 4 1 .
9 . Formes ilimentaires de !a vie religieuse, p p . 6 1 - 6 2.
10. Lerons de sociologie (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1 95 0 ) , p . 222.
1 1 . Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss, "Essai sur I a nature et la fo nction du sac
rif ce," Annie sociologique, II ( 1 897 - 1 8 9 8 ) ; in Mauss, Oeuvres, I: Les Fonctions
sociales du sacri, ed. Victor Karady (Paris: Les Editions du Minuit, 1 96 8 ) ,
p p . 1 93 - 3 0 1 . S e e also Roger Caillois, L'Homme e t le sacri (Paris: Gallimard,
1 9 5 0 ) , and Mircea Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane (frst pub. 1 9 5 7 ; New
York: Harper & Row, 1 9 6 1 ) . Eliade's other works, especially his Cosmos and
History (first pub. 1 9 5 4 ; New York: Harper & Row, 1 9 5 9 ) , are important i n
this respect. Equally relevant are the works o f Rene Girard, especially Violence
and the Sacred, trans. Patrick Gregory (frst pub. 1 97 2 ; Baltimore: The Johns
Hopkins University Press, 1 979) and Things Hiddm Since the Foundation
of the World, trans. Stephen Bann and Michael Metteer (first pub. 1 97 8 ;
Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1 9 89) .
1 2 . formes elbnmtaires de Ia vie religieuse, p. 1 1 4 .

1 3 . Ibid. , p . 97.
1 4 . London: Macmillan, 1 89 9 . This work was reviewed in detail by Durkheim
(in its political and social aspects) and Mauss (in its religious aspects) in An
nee sociologique, 1 1 1 ( 1 8 9 8 - 1 8 9 9 ) , 330-336, 205-2 1 5 .
1 5 . I l l ( 1 8 9 8 - 1 8 9 9 ) , p. 2 1 5 .
1 6. fu Durkheim put it: "It is not our intention to retrace all the speculations into
which religious thought, even of the Australians alone, has entered. What we
wish to reach are the elementary notions at the basis of religion; but there is no
need to follow them through all the developments, sometimes very intricate,
which mythological imagination has given them since primitive times. We shall
make use of myths when they enable us to understand these fundamental no
tions, but we shall not make mythology itself the object of our study. Moreover,
insofar as mythology is a work of art, it does not fall within the j urisdiction of
the science of religion s alone. Also, the mental processes which underlie it are
too complex to be studied indirectly and tangentially. It constitutes a difficult
problem which must be treated i n itself, for itself, and with a method peculiar
to itself" (Formes elernmtaires de Ia vie religieuse, pp. 1 4 1 - 1 42) .
1 7 . Ibid. , p. 5 9 6 .
1 8 . O n e aspect o f ritual which Durkheim's own devotion t o Ia vie serieuse pre
vented him from treating adequately was its tolerance of comic relief. He
gave little attention to rituals which included buffoonery and even obscene
raillery o r which inverted established principles of moral sobriety, dignity,
authority, and hierarchy. Yet these aspects of ritual, which provided controlled
and limited o utlets for immoral, vulgar, subversive, and at times unconscious
desires, might function both to test and to validate the solidity of norms
and institutions in the rest o f social life . They also indicated ways i n which
religion went beyond moral notions of good and evil. Here the work of
Bakhtin may be seen as providing a vital supplement to Durkheim's thought.
On Bakhtin, see my Rethinking Intellectual History: Texts, Contexts, Language
( Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1 9 8 3 ) , chap. 9 .
1 9 . Quo ted in Formes elbnentaires de la vie religieuse, pp. 2 7 7 - 2 7 8 . In his i n
troduction to Sociologie et anthropologie, by :vlarcel :vlauss ( fi r s t p u b . 1 9 5 0 ;
Paris: Presses Universitaires d e France, 1 96 8 ) , Claude Levi-Strauss gave an
extremely ope rational and rather demystified interpretation of mana as a
concept similar to what linguists term the "point zero" of communicatio n .
I n other words, mana would b e a place-holding o r filler concept that indi
cated a blank space in communication that required further specification fo r
meaning to be imparted. In this sense, mana would be similar to the French
espece de true ("something o r other"). This interpretation is a good example
of the excessively operational side of Levi-Strauss and of h is tendency to

stress similarities among "primitive" and modern societies, of ten at the price
of reducing things to their lowest common denominator. In the mystique
fi lied interpretation ofDurkheim, on the contrary, mana came close to being
the "point infinity" of communication. An interpretation by R. Godfrey
Lienhardt comes closer toDurkheim's sense of the term: "Vzrtus, prestige,
authority, good fortune, influence, sanctity, luck, are all words which, under
certain conditions, give something near the meaning .... Mana sometimes
means a more than natural virtue or power attaching to some person or
thing, different from and independent of the ordinary naturalconditions of
either.... I once had a tame pig which, before heavy rain, would always cut
extraordinary capers and squeak and run like mad ....All the Maori said that
it was a pig possessed o f mana: it had more than natural powers and could
foretell rain. The mana of a priest ...is proved by the truth of his pred c
tions .... Mana in another sense is the accompaniment of power but not the
power itself .... This is the chiefs mana .... The warrior's mana is just a little
something more than good fortune" ("Religion," in H. Shapiro, ed., Man,
Culture, and Society [first pub. 1956; New York: Oxf ord University Press,
1960], p. 316). Weber's notion of charisma was similar to mana insofar as
the latter received expression in an exceptional individual. One might also
compare mana to Walter Benjamin's notion of aura.
20. Formes elbnentaires de Ia vie religieuse, pp. 284-285.
21. Ibid., p. 1 2 .
22. For an attempt to formulate the relationship between epistemology and the
sociology of knowledge, se Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann, The Social
Construction ofReality (Garden City, N . Y .:Doubleday, 1966).
23. Pragmatisme et sociologie (Paris; Librairie Ph ilosophique J. Vrin, 1955), p.
197.
24. Ibid., p. 155. While radical social constructivism may be seen in certain ways
as the extreme, operationalized analogue o f Durkheim's soc al metaphys c,
the latter harbored traditional elements, restraints, and ambivalences that
might have fruitful dimensions and be open to formulations in other terms.
Thus, within the context of his social metaphysic, Durkheim retained an
emphasis upon the role of truth in his conception of things. "If society is a
specific reality, it is not an empire within an empire. It is a part of nature,
and indeed its highest manifestation. Now it is impossible that nature should
differ radically from case to case in regard to what is most essential. The
fundamental relations that exist among things- those which it is precisely
the function of the categories to express- cannot be essentially dissimilar
in the dif ferent realms. I f ...they are more clearly disengaged in the social
276 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosoplm
world, it is nevertheless i m possible that they should not be fo und elsewhere,

though in more disguised fo rms" (Formes elbnmtaires de Ia vie religieuse, p p .
2 5 - 2 6 ) . As a defense of the universal applicability a n d truth of categories
that were presumed to be specifically social in origin, this piece of argument
was unfortunately about as cogent as the idea that a photographer takes
good photographs because he is himself photogenic. Within the context
of Durkheim's social metaphysic, however, the problem was similar to the
theological question about whether something is true because it comes from
God or whether God created i t because i t is true.
25. Les Regles de Ia methode sociologique ( 1 5th ed.; Paris: Presses Universitaires
de France, 1 96 3 ) , p. 1 6 . Compare Karl annheim's conception of ideology
as false consciousness: "The concept 'ideology' reflects the one discovery
which emerged fro m political conflict, namely, that ruling groups can in
their thinking become so intensively interest-bound to a situation that they
are simply no longer able to see certain facts which would undermine their
sense of domination. There is implicit in the word 'ideology' the insight that
i n certain situations the collective unconscious of certain groups obscures the
real condition of society both to itself and to others and thereby stabilizes
it" (ideology and Utopia [New Yo rk: Harcourt, Brace 1 93 6 ] , p. 4 0 ) . Robert
Paul Wolff provides this pertinent gloss: "Ideology is thus self-serving i n
two senses. First, and most sim ply, i t is the refusal to recognize unpleasant
facts which might require a less flattering evaluation of a policy o r institu
tion o r which might undermine one's claim to a right of domination. For
example, slave owners in the antebellum South refused to acknowledge that
the slaves themselves were unhappy. The implication was that i f they were,
slavery would be harder to j ustifY. Secondly, ideological thinking is a denial
of unsettling or revo lutionary factors in society on the principle of the self
confirming prophecy that the more stable everyo ne believes the situation to
be, the more stable it actually becomes" ( " Beyo nd To lerance," in A Critique
ofPure Tolerance [Boston: Beacon Press, 1 96 5 1 , pp. 3 9 - 4 0 ) . See also the more
i n tricate, Lacanian notion o f i deology in Slavoj Zizek, The Sublime Object of
ideology (London: Verso, 1 989) .
26. formes elirnmtaires de Ia vie religieuse, p. 3 .
27. "Psychologie e t sociologie: Extrait de Ia conclusion d u debar," in Sociologie
et anthropologie, p. 3 0 9 .
28. Formes elirnmtaires de Ia vie religieuse, p p . 6 1 9, 3 2 9 .
29. Review o f Wilhelm Jerusalem's "Soziologie des Erkennis," i n Annie soci
ologique, XI ( 1 906- 1 909) , 44.
30. "Sociologie religieuse et theorie de Ia connaissance," Revue de rnitaphysique
et de morale, XVII ( 1 9 0 9 ) , 7 5 7 .
3 1 . formes elbnentaires de fa vie religieuse, p. 2 6 , n. 2 .

3 2 . Ibid. , p . 6 2 2 .
3 3 . Claude Levi-Strauss, L e Tothnisme a ujourd'hui (Paris: Presses Universitaires
de France, 1 9 6 2), p. 1 46 .
3 4 . Claude Levi-Strauss, La Pensee sauvage (Paris: Pion, 1 96 2 ) , p . 1 2 3 . I n contrast
to Levi-Strauss, Pierre Bourdieu is often closer to Durkheim's sociologism as
an ultimate explanatory gesture. As a consequence, he provides only limited
insight into the specific work and play of cultural forms, especially works
of art and literature. In The Rules ofArt: Genesis and Structure ofthe Literary
Field (trans. Susan Emanuel; first pub. 1 992; Stanford, Calif.: Stanford Uni
versity Press, 1 9 9 5 ) , he even puts forth the sociologistic fantasy o f producing
a so ciological account of the insertion o f the artifact in the field that, in its
thoroughness, would furnish a generative formula reproducing the artistic
object in another (sociological) register, thereby resulting i n a kind of socio
logical clone that would "explai n , " o r even render redundant, the literary
artifact. Still, Bourdieu provides valuable inquiries into the broader field or
context o f cultural artifacts, and the relation between field and artifact may
be understood differently than Bourdieu allows.
3 5 . Ibid. , pp. 292-293.
36. Durkheim recognized the possibility of a symbolic logic that focused upon
the common fo rmal principles of all thought. (See Les Regles de fa methode
sociologique, p . xviii.) But, as early as The Division of Labor and The Rules,
he asserted the particular importance o f concrete and informed observation
in symbolic systems that were prominent in "primitive" societies. (See Les
Regles, p. 1 5 , and De La Division du travail social, 7th ed., p. 2 7 5 . ) At times
he recognized the existence of correlations between society and nature in the
symbolism of these societies. In The Elemmtary Forms itself, he observed that
the "confusions" in "primitive" thought did not stem from an animistic, an
thropomorphic instinct, which immo derately extended features of humanity
to all of nature: "Primitive men . . . have not conceived the world in their own
image any more than they have conceived themselves in the world's image:
they have done both at the same time. Into the idea they have fo rmed of
things, they have undoubtedly made human elements enter; but into the
idea they have fo rmed of themselves, they have i n t roduced elements com
ing from things" (/_es formes elbnmtaires de la vie religieuse, p. 33 7 ) . See also
De La Division du travail social, p. 273, and Formes elbnentaires, p. 320.
Durkheim apparently d i d n o t sense the contradiction between these ideas
and his own social metaphysic, which interpreted religious symbols and the
categories as derivative projections or "superpositions" of the specifically
social. Yet he was always clear about the systematic c.1 uality of thought in
278 Emile Durkheim Sociologist and Philosopher
"primitive" societies. (See his and Marcel Mauss's Primitive Classification

[Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963], pp. 77-78, 81, a translation
of "De quelques fo rmes primitives de classification," Ann!e sociologique, VI
[ 1901-1902].) With some inconsistency in his formulations, Durkheim
also saw the integration of cognition, practice, imagination, and emotion
in comprehensive forms of symbolism. (See, for example, Pragmatisme et
sociologie, p. 161; Primitive Classification, p . 85-86; and De La Division du
travail social, p. 69. ) The notion of a comprehensive ordering or codification
of experi ence in certain symbolic systems was an important element of his
idea of a "prim itivenebula,"which is treated in another context in Chapter 3,
above. Moreover, Durkheim rejected Levy-Bruhl's notion o f the "prelogical"
character of primitive thought. For Durkheim, there was no gap between
"primitive" and modern thought or between the logic of relig ous thought
and that of scientific thought. The contents or terms employed might dif
fer, but the mental processes were essentially the same. 'The explanations of
contemporary science are surer of being more ob jective because they are more
methodical and because they rest on more carefully controlled observations,
but they do not diffa in nature from those which satisfy primitive thought"
(Formes!lbnentaires, pp. 340-341). Finally, Durkheim conceived the differ
ence between the experimentalism and theoretical falsifiability of scientific
propositions, on the one hand, and the symboli c necessity and "imperme
ability to experience" (or circularity) of myth and ritual, on the other, not
in strictly logical, but in psycholog cal terms. Between the commitment to
a ritual and the unwillingness to abandon a well-tested scientific theory in
the face of initial counterevidence, there was, for him, only a difference of
degree (see Formes !lbnentaires, pp.515-516).
37. Compare the criticism Edmund Leach has made of Levi-Strauss: "He fails
to allow for the fuct that, whereas the symbols used by mathematicians are
emotionally neutral -ix is not more exciting than x just because i is an
imag nary number -the concrete symbols used in primitive thought are
heavily loaded with taboo valuations. Consequently psychological factors such
as 'evasion' and 'repression' tend to confuse thelogical symmetries" (Nezu .Wrk
Review ofBooks, IX [Oct. 12, 1967], 8). Por a discussion of"poststructural"
figures, notably Michd Poucault and Jacques Derrida, s e e my History and
Reading: Tocqueville, F'oucault, F'rench Studies (Toronto: University ofToronto
Press, 2 0 0 0).
38. Boston: Beacon Press, 1964 (first pub. 1954), pp. 14, 16. Leach changed
his position, largely under the inA uence o f Levi-Strauss. A. R. Radcliffe
Brown, who is himself largely responsibl e for the influence of Durkheim
in Anglo-American social anthropology, nonetheless criticized Durkheim's
theory o f religion in these terms: " I n every human society there inevitably
exist two different and in a certain sense conflicting conceptions of nature.
One o f them, the naturalistic, is implicit everywhere in technology, and i n
o u r twentieth century European culture, with its great development o f con
trol over natural phenomena, has become explicit and preponderant in o u r
thought. T h e other, which might be called the mythological o r spiritualistic
co nception, is implicit in myth and in religion, and often becomes explicit
in philosophy" (Structure and Function in Primitive Society [London: Cohen
& West, I 9 5 2 ] , p. I 30 ) . As indicated earlier, radical social constructivism
of various sorts (including discursive constructivism) has recently become
important, and its relation to Durkheim's social metaphysic (or sociologism
in general) is typically not noticed. One finds it at times i n the influential
work of Frank Ankersmit, Judith Butler, Joan Scott, and Hayden White. It
has the value o f critically reversing conventional essentialism and bringing to
the fo regro und factors (such as performativity or gendered presuppositions)
obscured in conservative epistemologies (including Durkheim's) . But to the
extent it remains within a framework of reversal, it does not provide the
basis for a more thoroughgoing critique and rearticulation of assumptions.
O n these issues, see my Writing HistorY> Writing Trauma (Baltimore: Johns
Hopkins University Press, 2 00 I ) .
3 9 . Formes elbnentaires de Ia vie religieuse, p . 2 3 6 .
4 0 . Ibid. , p p . 5 5 3 , 5 I 3 .
4 I . "La Prohibition de l'inceste et ses origines," A nnee sociologique, I ( I 896- I 897),
I -7 0 ; trans. Edward Sagarin, Incest: The Origins and the Development of the
Incest Taboo (New Yo rk: Lyle Stuart, I 96 3 ) . Judith Surkis discusses this article
and its implications in her Cornell University dissertation, "Secularization and
Sexuality in Third Republic France, " chap. 4. I am indebted to her analysis
fo r certain ideas expressed in the next two paragraph s .
4 2 . Sociologie etphilosophie (first p u b . I 924; Paris: Presses Universitaires de France,
I 9 63 ) , p. I 08 .
4 3 . !;Education morale (first p u b . 1 934; Pari s : Presses Universitaires de France,
I 9 63) , pp. 7 8 , 72-73.
44. Formes elbnentaires de Ia vie religieuse, p . 2 4 5 .
4 5 . Sociologie et philosophie, p p . 74-75.
4 6 . Formes elbnentaires de Ia vie religieuse, p . 6 I I .
47. Bu!leth2 de Ia Societe Fran'lise de Philosophie, sessions of Feb. I I , March 2 2 ,
1 9 06 (Paris: A l can, p . 1 70 ) .
Epilogue
This b o o k fo cuses on the workings o f D urkheim's thought. D urkheim's

relation to his own historical context is a significant issue which, for m y
p u rposes, i s treated largely as a b ackgro u n d factor that helps t o inform an
understanding of h i s thought. In one i m portant sense, D u rkhei m's thought
was a response to the problems confronting the Third Rep u b l i c i n France.
But his ideas were not merely symptomatic of his milieu and are informed by,
b u t n o t reducible t o , an understanding of his particular context. In addition,
whatever his limitations i n this respect, h e himself was concerned a b o u t
t h e nature and workings of m o dern societies in general. And his reaction
t o prior thin kers and in tellectual traditions was most often a selective and
discriminating response, as it tends t o b e i n all rn a j o r thinkers.
In general, I have s u b o rdinated the problem of i n tellectual i nfl uences on
Durkheim t o t h a t of the structure and dynamic o f h i s thought. And I h ave
tried to analyze and understand that thought through a tense conjunction
o f m u t ually informative, interacting approaches: accurate reconstruction
and dialogic exchange. Reco nstruction involves t h e attempt to situate and
c o m p r e h e n d somet h i n g i n its own time and terms, not by denying on e's
implication in i t b u t by coun teracting o n e 's i n evitable proj ective or incor
p orative tendencies through careful research and close reading. D i alogic
exchange b ri n gs a more active i n t e rchange with another's thought that calls
for a response on the p a r t of the reader - a response that a t times elicits
unrealized possibilities and helps carry that thought into the present and
future. Part of t h e success o f such a n exchange, w h ich - far fro m being
teleological - explicitly and perform atively looks back i n order t o refl ect
critically on the past and ask how it bears on the fu t u r e , i s its ability to
induce other readers to engage and argue with its interpretations and i m
p l i c a t i o n s . My o w n approach i s dialectical n o t i n seeking a higher synthesis
b u t i n being dialogic and i n affi rming that one must continually return to
basic problems i n the attempt to work through t h e m .
As for D urkheim's infl uence o n others, there are n o t a b l e omissions i n this
b o o k . The thought ofTalcott Parsons does not receive the explicit attention
it deserves, because Parsons' ideas have i m p licitly conditioned much o f what
I h ave written, oft e n as a critical foil, and because the emphasis of the pres
ent work is primarily on social thought in France. I refer only scantily to
the work o f the A m zee school, although I devote s o m e attention to Marcel
Mauss. And I try t o indicate t h e ways i n which Claude Levi-Strauss, t h e
"inconstant disciple , " b u i l t , often in highly critical o r p r o b l e m a t i c ways,
u p o n the D u rk h e i m i a n heritage. B u t i m p o r t a n t t h i n kers like M a u r i c e
H albwachs, M a r c e l G r a n e t , a n d G e orges Davy are shortchanged, because
I believe that the work of the An n ee school can be better treated in a broader,
more synthetic study o f m o d e r n French social thought.
T h i s b o o k , then, concentrates on t h e thought of D u rk h e i m and at
tempts t o r e c o n s t i t u t e his ideas i n a way that is fai thful to his presentation
o f them, i n dicates his c o n c e r n fo r i m p o r t a n t problems i n s o c i a l l i fe , a n d
responds t o h i s thinking i n ways that m a y a t t i m e s help t o carry i t fo rward
c r i t i cally and c o n s t r u ctively. What may o n e c o n c l u d e a b o u t D ur k h e i m ' s
t h o u g h t i tself?
On a practical level, Durkheim attempted a reconciliation, o r at least an
articulation, of liberal, conservative, and radical traditions. The dominant
fo rce in h i s t h o u g h t was w h a t I h ave t e r m e d h is p h i l o s o p h i cal conservatism,
a n d this served as the capstone of his critical and constructive attempt at
articulation. Above all, D u r k h e i m w a n t e d the emergence o f a s o c i e t y t h a t
viably related legitimate order and progress, reason and s e n t i m e n t , structure
and creativity. With increasing insistence, h e saw m o dern society as passing
through a transitional period that confronted people with the problem of
anomie. Anomie was especially pronounced in the economy. And the corpo
rative gro up was D urkheim's specific means of overcoming social "pathology"
a n d instituting "normality" i n m o d ern life . In general, h e tried to w o r k o u t
a s e l e ctive a n d discriminating critical p erspective o n m o d e r n s o c i e ty. Given
his view o f social n o r m ality, he asked what deserved t o b e preserved and
what ought to be changed in modern s o c i a l life. But often Durkheim was
not penetrating enough i n his investigation of existing social realities and not
t h oroughgoing e n o ugh in his c o n c e p t i o n o f n e e d e d reforms. His t e n de n cy
t o avoid the hard problem of s p e c i fi c processes and agents of change was
abetted by his inclination to envision ideals abstractly and t o project their
approximate realizatio n i n t o an indeterminate fu ture.
D u rkhei m's thought vacillated b e tw e e n a n analytic d i s s o c i a t i o n o f
reality and a m o r e o r less open dialectical v i s i o n . At times there s u r faced
Fpilogue 283
between these two types o f thought a m o r e tragic sense o f life. B u t the

tragic sense was the most m u t e d element o f D u rkhei m's thought. H i s t o ry,
for Durkheim, was often the anomically uprooting, tragic p r o cess o f social
pathology. B u t his insight i n t o t h e tragic elements of history, as well as the
fo rcefulness o f his d i alectical visi on of their overcoming, was i m paired by
the nature of his reckoning with Marx. A more direct confrontation w i t h
Marx w o u l d a t least h ave s h a r p e n e d Durkheim's ideas. And i t might have
provided h i m with a conception of " p r axis" which revealed how people
i n concrete s i t u a t i o n s experienced social p a t h o l o gy, w i t h its sometimes
t r a u m a t i c e ffects, and h o w they attempted to come t o terms with i t . As i t
was, Durkheim remained largely caught u p b e tween a Cartesianized neo
Kantianism and a Hegelian notion o f dialectics. T h i s bind facilitated his
ultimate turn toward social metaphysic as the i n s t r u m e n t o f logical closure
for his thought. Society i tself became the surrogate fo r G o d in m o d e r n life
and, simultaneo usly, t h e origin that provided ultimate legitimation fo r the
new discipline of sociology itself.
T h e most thought-provoking aspect of D u r khei m's thought was the
more o p e n , self-critical d i alectical (or dialogic) d i m e n s i o n a n d its rela
t i o n to his p h i l o s o p h i c a l conservatism. Also significant was his insight
into secularization as involving neither the seamless continuation nor the
decisive termination o f religion b ut i t s complex displacements i n modern
life - its repetition o r r e p r o d u c t i o n with m o re o r less signifi cant, a t times
disruptive, changes - including its role i n D u r k heimian sociology itself.
M o reover, with respect to both Durkheim and Marx, there is a sense i n
w h i c h a n a p p r o a c h t h a t is basically social, and h a s a strong normative or
practical d i m e n s i o n , m a y recognize b u t n o t affirm tragedy. C onversely, a
tragic orientation (such as that of Jacques Lacan) m a y admit a restricted role
for ethics and social activity which, when n o t conflated with tragedy, are at
best platforms for a presumably higher-order drama - even s u b o rdinate
duties if not divertissements.
In Durkheim the concepts of th e tree of social life and of social normality
and pathology provided a "holistic," analytic and n o r mative perspective that
o ffered some link between theory and practice. Durkheim did see history
i n dialectical terms as a tense struggle between anomie forces and mean
i n gfu l order. B u t absent was a c o n crete notion o f the role of people i n this
p rocess. Like Hegel, Durkheim often leaves one with a vision of history in
284 Emile Du rkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher
t e r m s o f p r ocesses i n g o o d p a r t abstracted fro m h u m a n agents and at times

represented in b l indly gendered terms.
Altho ugh Durkheim fai led t o develop a concrete notion of people as
agents i n h i s t ory, h e d i d i n t e n d his ideas t o serve as guides to social action.
H i s concepts of the tree of social life and of s o c i a l n o r m a l i t y and pathology
fu rnished a way of coordinating a conception of transhistorical values and a
critical theory of moral relativism. There were certain transhistorical values
- autono my, reciproc i ty, c o m m u n i ty, and the sacred. B u t t h e i r manifest
ations depended on specific historical and s o cial circumstances. To the extent
that moral relativism led t o their realization in the normal state of a given
type of society, it was j u s t i fi e d . To the extent that i t conferred legitimacy
on pure s u b j e c t i vi ty, decision i s m , or pathological states o f s o c i e ty, it was a
sym p t o m a t i c fo rm of "false consciousness."
T h e goal o f s o cial l i fe was the creation and maintenance of a state of
society that was b o th rationally j u s t i fi e d and sym b o l ically legitimated. This
was not a static state. I t included and required a significant measure of
change that corresp o n d e d to t h e destructive and creative role of anomie in
life. A t t i m e s Durkheim realized that, in modern s o c i e t i e s , t h i s role, a l o n g
w i t h t h a t of criticism a n d contestat i o n , w o u l d b e significant. S t i l l , o n c e t h e
normal s t a t e h a d b e e n viably achieved, one's fundamental commitment w a s
t o i t s maintenance and to the use of fre e d o m in evaluating alternatives and
warding o ff unwanted change. Anomie, in this state of commitment, w o u l d
for the m o s t p a r t b e restricted to a marginal aspect o f t h e ordi nary personal
ity a n d to a marginal group o f extraordinary individuals in s o c i e ty. H e n c e
t h e r e w a s a p l a c e fo r Prometheus b u t n o t o n e to b e confused with t h a t o f
"every m an . " This n o t i o n of s o c i a l normality w a s essential t o D u rkheim's
philosophical conservatism.
By and large, Durkheim proved unable to extend his own c o m m i t m e n t
to the p o i n t o f thinking and working more completely for the realization
o f his vision. I n this respect, h e is not atypical of the m o d ern intellectual,
especi ally o n e s i tu a t e d in the academy. But i t is possible t o derive fro m
Durkheim an appreciation of the rare c o m b i n a t i o n of intellectual rigor and
moral fervor that respects careful, discriminating thought and avoids self
righteous dogmatism. More over, h e proved able b o t h to intervene effectively
in current deb ates and to provide thought of e n d u r i n g value. I f anything,
the questions o f explanation, understanding, prescri p t i o n , and action that
Fpilogue 285
D u r k h e i m raised were more complex and problematic than he admitted.

Durkheim came to believe that ultimately one needs secular d i s p lacements
o f religion t o make sense o f things. His m e r i t was in seeking modalities
o f displacement t h a t complemented reason instead o f contradicting i t . It
would seem o b v i o u s t h a t an existentially gripping mode o f thought and
practice must d o more than D u rkh eim's social metaphysic was able t o do.
B u t D u rk h e i m may be credited w i t h seeking not a narrowly instrumental or
technical rat ionality but a substantive, socially informed conception o f rea
son that did not exclude afc t or require a p h o b i c , quasi-ritualistic antipathy
to ritual and religion. In this respect his work retains a t h o u gh t - provoking
p ower of contestation even fo r those w h o may not agree with him.
Index
Alain (Emile Chartier), 29, 44, 47 Brunetiere, Ferdinand, 6 0

Alpert, Harry, 5 7 - 5 8 Buisson, Ferdinand, 3 1 , 3 6 , 3 8
Ankersmit, Frank, 2 7 9 n Buder, Judith, 279n
Aristo tle, 1 49
Aron, Raymond, 22n, 4 3 , 6 6 n , 23 1 n Camus, Albert, 1 37 , 1 77n- 1 7 8 n
Canivez, Andre, 4 2
Bacon, Sir Francis, 2 5 3 Cassirer, Ernst, 2 5 6
Bakhtin, t-.1ikhail, 1 5 6 , 23 1 n , 274n Chateaubriand, Franc,:ois Auguste,
Bakunin, M i chael, 55 1 5 6 , 1 77 n
Balzac, Honore de, 1 77 n , 1 87 Chevalier, L o u i s , 6 8 n - 6 9 n
Barres, Maurice, 5 0 Clapham, John, 3 3
Barthes, Roland, vii Clemenceau, Georges, 3 6
Bastide, Roger, 1 3 5n Codrington, Robert H e n ry, 2 5 0
Bataille, Georges, vii, 6 7 n , 1 57 , 2 6 6 Columbus, Ch ristop her, 22n
Bayer, Albert, 1 44 Combes, Emile, 49
Bazard, Saint-Amand , 2 1 9 Comte, August, 2, 4, 1 1 , 1 5 , 24n, 3 1 ,
Belot, Gustave, 2 7 , 43 4 1 , 46, 76, 84, 108, 1 1 3, 1 1 5,
Benjamin, Walter, 92, 2 0 8 , 275n 1 2 5 , 1 8 2- 1 8 5 , 1 8 9, 1 96 , 23 1 n ,
Bentham, Jeremy, 1 1 3 270
Berger, Peter, 275n Cooley, Charles Horton, 79
Bergson, Henri, 2 7 , 4 3 , 1 94 , 254 Coulanges, Fustel de, 27, 1 90
Bernard, Claude, 1 8 9 Croce, Benedetto, 1 90
Bernstein, Eduard, 1 8 Cuvillier, Armand, 43
Bert, Paul, 49
Bloch, M arc, 1 8 6 - 1 8 7 Darwin, Charles, 1 1 3 , 1 93
Blonde!, Charles, 4 5 , 2 3 3 n Davy, Georges, 2 , 2 6 , 30-3 1 , 63, 6 n ,
Blonde!, M aurice, 27 282
Blum, Leon, 5 5 , 67n Deleuze, Gilles, v i i
Bonald, Louis de, 1 5 , 46 Derrida, Jacques, v i i , 2 7 8 n
Bossuet, Jacques Benigne, 6 1 Descartes, Rene, 4 , 6 , 86, 9 8 , 1 8 0
Bougle, Celestin, 27, 5 8 , 1 29 , 1 3 4n Dostoevsky, Fyodor, 1 77n
Bourdieu, Pierre, vii, 22n, 67n, 277n Douglas, Jack C . , 1 4 2
Bourgeois, Leon, 57 Dowden, Edward, 1 6 8
Bourget, Paul, 59 Dreyfus Affair, 9 , 3 3 , 3 5 - 3 6 , 4 0 , 47-
Boutroux, Emile, 27, 44, 76 48, 52, 5 5 - 5 6 , 59-62, 1 7 9
Brochard, Victor, 40 Drieu L a Rochelle, Pierre, 2 0 8
2R8 Emile Durkheim: Sociologist a12d Philosopher
Duguit, Leon, 5 7 auconnet, P a u l , G G n , 9 7

Durkheim, Emile, " D etermination Febvre, Lucien, 1 8 7, 2 2 8 n
du fai t moral," 43 ; "Deux Lois Ferry, Jules, 3 0 , 3 6 , 39
de 'evolution penale," 9 3 - 9 5 ; Fischer, Fritz, 7 4 n
The Divisio12 ofLabor i 12 Society, Flaubert, Gustave, 1 52
34, 5 8 , 7 5 - 1 3 6 , 1 3 7- 1 4 1 , 1 44- Fontaine, Andre, 40
1 4 5 , 1 48 , 1 5 1 , 1 5 3 , 1 5 8 , 1 7 1 , Foucault, Michel, vii-viii, 94, 223,
1 7 9- 1 8 0 , 2 1 8 -2 1 9 , 277n; "Le 232n, 233n, 2 6 6 , 278n
Dualisme de I a nature humaine Fouillee, Alfred, 57
et ses conditions sociales," 2 1 8 ; Frazer, Sir James, 247
The Eleme12tary Forms ofReligious Freud, Sigmund, 84, 92, 1 04, 1 64-
L(e, 20-2 1 , 3 4 , 4 4 , Go, 8 1 - 8 2 , 1 6 5 , 2 1 5 , 232n-233n, 2 6 2
1 05 , 1 40, 1 8 0, 1 8 6 , 1 94, 1 97, Fromm, Erich, 2 3 3 n
2 2 5 , 227, 235-279; L'Evolutio12
p edagogique e12 Fra12ce, 1 9 0, Gambetta, Leon, 3 4 , 5 3
1 95 ; Germa12y Above All, 6 3 , Gaulle, Charles de, G G n
87; r:Individualisme et l e s imel Gide, Charles, 57
lectuels," G O ; Moral Educatio12, Gillen, Francis James, 246
92, 94-95, 1 5 6 , 1 75 n , 177n, 1 8 0, Girard, Rene, 2 6 6 , 2 7 3 n
1 97, 2 1 3 ; "La Morale," 2 1 , 1 94 ; Goblot, Edmond, 2 7
Mo12tesquieu a12d Rousseau: Fore Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 1 77n
ru1212er5 ofSociology, 230n-2 3 1 n ; Goldmann, Lucien, 9 1
Pragmatisme et Sociologie, 97, Gouldner, Alvin, 24n
1 66 , 2 5 2 ; Primitive Classijicatio12, Granet, Marcel, 282
2 5 8 ; Projessio12al Ethics a12d Civic Guesde, Jules, 5 4 - 5 5
Morals, 1 7 9 - 1 8 0 , 2 0 7 ; "Represen Guizot, Fran<;:ois, 7 0 n
tations individuelles et representa Gurvitch, Georges, 2 2 n , G G n
tions collectives," 2 1 7-2 1 8 ; The
Rules ofSociological Method, 4 , Halbwachs, Maurice, 3 1 , G G n , 1 7 4n-
8, 12, 8 1 , 88, 1 80, 186, 2 1 3 , 1 75 n , 2 3 3 n , 2 8 2
222, 2 5 3 , 277n; Le Socialisrne, Hamelin, Octave, 28-29
1 8 0- 1 8 1 , 1 97 ; Sociology a12d Phi Hayward, J. E . S . , 73n
losophy, 43; Suicide, 2 5 , 3 4 , 4 9 , Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich, 7 ,
5 6 , 87, 93, I l l , 1 2 2, 1 24, 1 2 5 , 1 0 , 5 9 , 1 9 1 , 283
1 37- 1 78 , 1 8 0 , 1 84 , 2 1 1 , 223 Hendin, Herbert, 1 76n
Eliade, M i rcea, 273n Herr, Lucien, 5 5
Eliot, T. S . , 2 1 5 Hobbes, Thomas, 1 5 0 , 2 1 5-2 1 6
Erikson, Erik, 1 6 5 H o ffman, Stanley, 6 8 n
Espinas, Alfred, 3 0 , 76 Holleaux, Maurice, 2 8
Evans-Pritchard, E. E . , 3 4 Hubert, H e n r i , 24 1 , 244
Index 289
H ughes, H . Stuart, 7 3 n , 228n Liard, Louis, 29-30, 37-40, 5 0

James, William, 1 1 1 Lichtheim, George, 5 4 - 5 5
Janet, Paul, 76 Lienhardt, R. Godfrey, 2 7 5 n
Janet, Pierre, 27 Lowie, Robert, 2 3 5
Jaures, Jean, 27, 5 2 , 5 5 Luckmann, Thomas, 2 7 5 n
Luhman, Niklas, 1 0
Kant, Immanuel, 6 , 7 , 1 5 , 2 8 , 3 6 , Lukes, Steven, 22n-23n
4 1 , 44, 6 1 , 9 0 , 1 03 , 1 3 5 n , 2 1 2 , Lyo tard, Jean-Franois, vii
2 2 6 , 269
Karady, Victor, 66n Maistre, Joseph de, 1 5 , 46
Kristeva, Julia, vii, 266 Malebranche, Nicolas, 98
Kroeber, A. L., 34 Mannheim, Karl, 1 7 , 1 4 6 , 276n
Marett, R. R . , 34
Labriola, Antonio, 52 Marion, Henri, 44, 57
Lacan, Jacc.1 ues, vii, 283 Marx, Karl, 1 8 - 1 9 , 2 3 n , 24n, 5 2 , 54-
LaCapra, Dominick, viin, 2 3 n , 177n, 55, 87, 9 1 , 1 1 7, 1 2 2, 1 2 5 , 1 4 6,
1 7 8 n , 23 l n, 2 3 2 n , 274n, 278n, 1 5 1 , 1 8 1 , 1 8 4, 2 1 7, 2 5 3 ,
279n 2 6 2 , 2 8 2 -2 8 3 ; Capital, 1 8 1 ; Eigh
Lachelier, Jules, 38, 4 4 teenth Brumaire, 1 9 ; German
Lacombe, Roger, 1 4 4 , 174n Ideology, 5 1
Laing, R. D., 232n Massis, Henri, 5 0
Lamarck, Jean Baptiste d e , 1 93 Maurras, Charles, 1 5 , 4 6 , 208
Lang, Andrew, 245 Mauss, t-.1arcel, vii, 1 , 1 0 , 2 1 , 30, 3 5 ,
Lanson, Gustave, 2 7 5 2 , 5 5 , 6 6 , 67n, 76-77, 90, 9 5 ,
Lao-T se, 1 09 97, 1 0 7, 1 2 0 , 1 3 3 n , 1 57, 2 3 3 n ,
Lapie, Paul, 37-40 2 4 1 , 2 4 7 , 2 5 6 , 274n , 2 7 8 n , 2 8 2 ;
Leach, Edmund, 2 6 3 , 278n The Gift, 1 0 , 98- 1 0 2 ; "Sacrifice:
Lenin, Vladimir, 9 1 Its Nature and Function," 244
Leon, Xavier, 2 6 Mazzi n i , Giuseppe, 2 1 0
Leroux, Pierre, 7 6 Merton, Robert K., 2 3 n , 1 76n- 1 77n
Levasseur, Emile, 1 2 3 Mill, John Stuart, 1 1 3 , 1 96
Levi-Strauss, Claude, vii, 1 0, 2 2 n , 8 4 , Montesquieu, Charles Louis de, 2 7 ,
97-98, 1 0 2, 1 07- 1 08 , 1 3 5 n , 1 8 6 , 7 6 , 94, 2 0 8 , 230n-23 1 n
2 3 3 n , 2 6 2 , 274n- 2 7 5 n , 277n, Muller, Max, 245
278n, 282, Elementary Structures Muntzer, Thomas, 9 1
ofKimhip, 1 04-1 0 5 ; The Savage
Mind, 1 02- 1 05 , 2 5 9-262; To Nietzsche, Friedrich, 79, 1 66 , 1 77 n ,
temism, 1 0 5- 1 06 1 7 8n
Levy-Bruhl, Lucien, 77, 8 2 , 1 08 , Nizan, Paul, 5 0
2 5 9 , 278n Parain, Brice, 6 2
Pareto , Vi l fredo , 1 26 Spinoza, Baruch, 2 6 , 40

Parson s , Talcott, 7, 22n, 7 5 , 2 3 5 - 2 3 6 , Spuler, Eugene, 30
273n, 28 1 Steeg, Jules, 36, 38
Pascal, Blaise, 1 8 5 Steinmetz, Sebald-Rudo lf, 94
Pecaut, Felix, 3 6 , 3 8 , 4 0 Sutherland, Edwin Hardin, 90
Peguy, Charles, 4 8 , 6 2
Plato, 2 5 0 , 259, 272 Tarde, Alfred de, 50
Pope Leo XIII, 47 Tarde, Gabriel, 44-45, 5 0 , 71 n, 9 1 ,
1 26 , 1 49 , 2 1 6 , 2 5 4
Radcliffe-Brown, A. R., 8 1 , 278n- Thibaudet, Albert, 3 7 - 3 8
279n Thiers, Adolphe, 3 3
Reinach, Salomon, 27 Thomson, David, 32, 4 8
Renouvier, Charles, 6 , 38, 4 1 Tiryakian , Edward, 23n-24n
R i chard, Gaston, 1 3 8 , 1 74n To cc.1 ueville, Alexis de, viii, 33, 5 3 ,
R i chter, lv1elvin, 6 0 1 1 1 , 230n, 2 3 1 n
Ross, Kristin, 6 8 n Tonnies, Ferdinand, 7 9 , 1 1 5 - 1 1 6 ,
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 1 5 , 2 8 , 6 1 , 1 19
76, 8 4 - 8 5 , 1 03 , 1 1 3 , 1 8 6 , 2 1 2 , Treitschke, Heinrich von, 6 3 , 74n
230n-23 1 n Turner, Victor, 8 0 , 1 08 - 1 1 0
Tylor, E . B . , 34, 2 4 5
Saint-Simon, Claude Henri de, 3 2 ,
52, 1 07, 1 1 2, 1 8 1 - 1 8 6 , 1 9 1 , 1 93 - Weber, 1ax, 23n-24n, 78-79, 1 1 7,
1 9 5 , 2 1 7, 2 1 9 , 2 3 1 n 1 44 , 1 49 , 1 6 5 - 1 70, 1 9 2, 2 1 5 ,
Salvemini, Gaetano, 1 9 0 240, 2 6 3 , 2 7 5 n
Sangnier, fare, 47 Wundt, Wilhelm, 2 9
Saussure, Ferdinand de, 84 White, Hayden, 279n
SchaefAe, Albert, 29, 5 2 , 1 27 Wo lff, Robert Paul, 276n
Schmitt, Carl, 208
Schopenhauer, Arthur, 1 7 1 Zizek, Slavoj, 276n
Scott, Joan, 279n
Seignobos, Charles, 1 92
Sewell, William, 73n
Simmel, Georg, 1 89
Smith, Adam, 7 7
Smith, Robertso n , 6 2
Socrates, 8 9 , 9 1 , 1 9 1
Sorel, Georges, 5 4 , 208
Spencer, Sir Baldwin, 246
Spencer, Herbert, 4 , 6 1 , 9 7 , 1 1 0- 1 1 1 ,
1 1 3 , 1 1 8- 1 1 9 , 1 2 1 , 1 89 , 2 1 6

LACAPRA, D. Emile Durkheim - Sociologist and Philosopher (Em Inglês) PDF

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Emile Durlffieim

Sociologist and Philosopher

Critical Studies in the Humanities

The Davies Group, Publishers Aurora, Colorado

Emile Durkheim: Sociologist and Philosopher

Address all requests to:

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

LaCapra, Dominick, 1939-

Cover photo Digital Vision

Printed in the United States of America.

Critical Studies i n the Humanities

This open-ended series provides a unique publishing venue by combining

3. The Division ofSocial Labor 15

Residual Dou bts 114

4. Suicide and Solidarity 137

5. Theory and Practice 179

6. The Sacred and Society 235

Selected Bibliography 285

Victor E. Taylor, Series Editor

While I have revised certain fo rmulations, added material , and updated

stress the role o f excess, undecidability, hyperbole , and transgression in a

On this problem se my History and Reading: Tocqznzlk, Foualult, French

The present study attempts to provide a comprehensive interpretation

Durkheim was the E rst to attemp t the institutionalization in social sci

been suspected of a systematic hostility for philosophy in general or at least

new edifl ce - an enterprise whose urgency we have felt for a century

Especially signifl cant in this p assage is the existential precedence ac

Durkheim's early posi tivism at times culminated in an arid fo rmalism.

guiding metaphor of a tree of social life. This metaphor served as a logical

One cannot understand the sense in which Durkheim was a rationalist

observation. Their basis was the core problem o f Durkheimian sociology

revolutionaries who felt an indiscriminate need to destroy all existing realities

Durkheim i s j ustly remembered as a severe critic of utilitarianism and

metaphysic, to indulge i n a vague, contemplative vision of ideals stand

society, he had an almost religious faith i n the evolution of modern society,

Sociology raises other problems than h istory and ethnography. It does

The theoretical goal of The Elementary Forms was to arrive at a general

Durkheim to perceive "primitive" societies through a superficial type of benign

1. "Cours de science sociale: Leton d' ouverture," Rwue internationale de

present book, Steven Lukes employed a combination of analytic philosophy

1 7 . " I n Memoriam: L'Oeuvre inedite de Durkheim et de ses collaborateurs, "

To historicize D urkheim' s ideas by restricting their range to his own im

Durkheim grew up at a time when the Jewish ghettos of eastern France

France because of an overly scrupulous fear that he would not b e able to

Durkheim's intellectual life coincided with the fo unding and estab

- the debacle of the Franco-Prussian War, followed by the agony of the

In the excellent j u dgment of David Thomson, "The Third Repub

Our society must restore the consciousness of its organic unity . . . .

economic transformation i n France exacerbated problems common to all

A measure of positive consensus stemming fro m similar social origins

contained no women and generated n o significant internal challenges to

ing article on Durkheim, which seized with penetration the contemporary

The secret finality [of rites] was not to be expressions of faith b u t

Two men were above all others i nstru m e n t a l 11 the d i ffu s i o n of

The introduction of the teaching of sociology i n our normal schools

To appreciate the element of truth in Thibaudet's characterization of the

The son o f an instituteur, Paul Lapie retained throughout his l i fe the

A personality type emerges almost o f its own accord from these

What constitutes the authority w h i c h colors s o readily the word of

Thus t h e unique, sym b o l i cally charged contribution of D u rkheim to

morality as the institutional and ideological basis o f solidarity in society.

Yo u must have read in the Revue philosophique a very curious article

The intellectual and academic cause a!lebre of Durkheim's own day,