Assignment #1
The Sociological Imagination
C. Wright Mills (1959)
The sociological imagination enables its possessor to understand the
larger historical scene in terms of its meaning for the inner life and the
extemal career of a variety of individuals. It enables him to take into
account how individuals, in the welt er of their daily experience, often
become falsely conscious of their social positions. Within that welter,
the framework of modern society is sought, and within that framework the
psychologies of a variety of men and women are formulated. By such means
t he personal uneasiness of individuals is focused upon explicit troubles
and the indifference of publics is transformed into involvement with public
issues.
The first fruit of this imagination--and the first lesson of the social
science that embodies it--is the idea that the individual can understand
his own experience and gauge his own fate only by locating himself within
his period, that he can know his own chances in life only by becoming aware
of those of all individuals in his circumstances. In many ways it is a terrible
lesson; in many ways a magnificent one. We do not know the limits of man's
capacities for supreme effort or willing degradation, for agony or glee,
for pleasurable brutality or the sweetness of reason. But in our time we
have come to know that the limits of 'human nature' are frighteningly broad.
We have come to know that every individual lives, from one generation to
the next, in som e society; that he lives out a biography, and that he lives
it out within some historical sequence. By the fact of his living he contributes,
however minutely, to the shaping of this society and to the course of its
history, even as he is made by society and by its historical push and shove.
The sociological imagination enables us to grasp history and biography
and the relations between the two within society. That is its task and its
promise. To recognize this task and this promise is the mark of the classic
social analyst. It is characte ristic of Herbert Spencer--turgid, polysyllabic,
comprehensive; of E. A. Ross--graceful, muckraking, upright; of Auguste
Comte and Emile Durkheim; of the intricate and subtle Karl Mannheim. It
is the quality of all that is intellectually excellent in Karl Marx; it
is the due to Thorstein Veblen's brilliant and ironic insight, to Joseph
Schumpeter's many-sided constructions of reality, it is the basis of the
psychological sweep of W.E.H. Lecky no less than of the profundity and clarity
of Max Weber. And it is the signal of what is best in contemporary studies
of man and society.
No social study that does not come back to the problems of biography,
of history and of their intersections within a society has completed its
intellectual journey. Whatever the specific problems of the classic social
analysts, however limited or howev er broad the features of social reality
they have examined, those who have been imaginatively aware of the promise
of their work have consistently asked three sorts of questions:
1) What is the structure of this particular society as a whole? What
are its essential components, and how are they related to one another? How
does it differ from other varieties of social order? Within it. what is
the meaning of any particular fea
(2) Where does this society stand in human history? What are the mechanics
by which it is changing? What is its place within and its meaning for the
development of humanity as a whole? How does any particular feature we are
examining affect, and how i s it affected by, the historical period in which
it moves? And this period--what are its essential features? How does it
differ from other veriods? What are its characteristic ways of history-making?
(3) What varieties of men and women now prevail in this society and in this
period? And what varieties are coming to prevail? In what ways are they
selected and formed, liberated and repressed, made sensitive and blunted?
What kinds of 'human nature' are revealed in the conduct and character we
observe in this society in this per iod? And what is the meaning for 'human
nature' of each and every feature of the society we are examing?
Whether the point of interest is a great power state or a minor literary
mood, family, a prison, a creedãthese are the kinds of questions
the best social analysts have asked. They are the intellectual pivots of
classic studies of man in society--and th ey are the questions inevitably
raised by any mind possessing the sociological imagination. For that imagination
is the capacity to shift from one perspective to another--from the political
to the psychological; from examination of a single family to comp arative
assessment of the national budgets of the world; from the theological school
to the military establishment; from considerations of an oil industry to
studies of contemporary poetry. It is the capacity to range from the most
impersonal and remote t ransformations to the most intimate features of
the human self--and to see the relations between the two. Back of its use
there is always the urge to know the social and historical meaning of the
individual in the society and in the period in which he has his quality
and his being.
That, in brief, is why it is by means of the sociological imagination
that men now hope to grasp what is going on in the world, and to understand
what is happening in themselves as minute points of the intersections of
biography and history within society. In large part, contemporary man's
self-conscious view of himself as at least an outsider, if not a permanent
stranger, rests upon an absorbed realization of social relativity and of
the transformative power of history. The sociolog ical imagination is the
most fruitful form of this self-consciousness. By its use men whose mentalities
have swept only a series of limited orbits often come to feel as if suddenly
awakened in a house with which they had only supposed themselves to be fam
iliar. Correctly or incorrectly, they often come to feel that they can now
provide themselves with adequate summations, cohesive assessments, comprehensive
orientations. Older decisions that once appeared sound now seem to them
products of a mind unaccountably dense. Their capacity for astonishment
is made lively again. They acquire a new way of thinking, they experience
a transvaluation of values: in a word, by their reflection and by their
sensibility, they realize the cultural meaning of the social sciences.
Perhaps the most fruitful distinction with which the sociological imagination
works is between the personal troubles of milieu' and 'the public issues
of social structure.' This distinction is an essential tool of the sociological
imagination and a fea ture of all classic work in social science.
Troubles occur within the character of the individual and within
the range of his immediate relations with others; they have to do with his
self and with those limited areas of social life of which he is directly
and personally aware. Accordingl y, the statement and the resolution of
troubles properly lie within the individual as a biographical entity and
within the scope of his immediate milieuãthe social setting that
is directly open to his personal experience and to some extent his willful
act ivity. A trouble is a private matter: values cherished by an individual
are felt by him to be threatened.
Issues have to do with matters that transcend these local environments
of the individual and the range of his inner life. They have to do with
the organization of many such milieux into the institutions of an historical
society as a whole, with the ways in which various milieux overlap and interpenetrate
to form the larger structure of social and historical life. An issue is
a public matter: some value cherished by publics is felt to be threatened.
Often there is a debate about what that value r eally is and about what
it is that really threatens it. This debate is often without focus if only
because it is the very nature of an issue, unlike even widespread trouble,
that it cannot very well be defined in terms of the immediate and everyday
environments of ordinary men. An issue, in fact, often involves a crisis
in institutional arrangemen ts, and often too it involves what Marxists
call 'contradictions' or 'antagonisms.'...
In every intellectual age some one style of reflection tends to become
a common denominator of cultural life. Nowadays, it is true, many intellectual
fads are widely taken up before they are dropped for new ones in the course
of a year or two. Such ent husiasms may add spice to cultural play, but
leave little or no intellectual trace. That is not true of such ways of
thinking as 'Newtonian physics' or 'Darwinian biology.' Each of these intellectual
universes became an influence that reached far beyond a ny special sphere
of idea and imagery. In terms of them, or in terms derived from them, unknown
scholars as well as fashionable commentators came to re-focus their observations
and re-formulate their concerns.
During the, modern era, physical and biological science has been the
major common denominator of serious reflection and popular metaphysics in
Western societies. 'The technique of the laboratory' has been the accepted
mode of procedure and the source of intellectual security. That is one meaning
of the idea of an intellectual common denominator: men can state their strongest
convictions in its terms; ot her terms and other styles of reflection seem
mere vehicles of escape and obscurity.
That a common denominator prevails does not of course mean that no other
styles of thought or modes of sensibility exist. But it does mean that more
general intellectual interests tend to slide into this area, to be formulated
there most sharply, and when so formulated, to be thought somehow to have
reached, if not a solution, at least a profitable way of being carried along.
The sociological imagination is becoming, I believe, the major common
denominator of our cultural life and its signal feature. This quality of
mind is found in the social and psychological sciences, but it goes far
beyond these studies as we now know them. Its acquisition by individuals
and by the cultural community at larg e is slow and often fumbling; many
social scientists are themselves quite unaware of it. They do not seem to
know that the use of this imagination is central to the best work that they
might do, that by failing to develop and to use it they are failing to meet
the cultural expectations that are coming to be demanded of them and that
the classic traditions of their several disciplines make available to them.
Yet in factual and moral concerns, in literary work and in political
analysis, the qualities of this imagination are regularly demanded. In a
great variety of expressions, they have become central features of intellectual
endeavor and cultural sensibil ity. Leading critics exemplify these qualities
as do serious journalists--in fact the work of both is often judged in these
terms. Popular categories of criticism--high, middle, and low-brow, for
example--are now at least as much sociological as aesthetic . Novelists--whose
serious work embodies the most widespread definitions of human reality--frequently
possess this imagination, and do much to meet the demand for it. By means
of it, orientation to the present as history is sought. As images of'human
natu re' become more problematic, an increasing need is felt to pay closer
yet more imaginative attention to the social routines and catastrophes which
reveal (and which shape) man's nature in this time of civil unrest and ideological
conflict. Although fashion is often revealed by attempts to use it, the
sociological imagination is not merely a fashion. It is a quality of mind
that seems most dramatically to promise an understanding of the intimate
realities of ourselves in connection with larger social realities. It is
not merely one quality of mind among the contemporary range of cultural
sensibilities--it is the quality whose wider and more adroit use
offers the promise that all such sensibilities--and in fact, human reason
itself--will come to play a greater role in human affairs.
Excerpt from The Social Imagination (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1959), pp. 5-9. |