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Photo by mapgirl271 via Flickr. Text: The Other Sociologist

The discipline of sociology has grappled with several overlapping issues regarding the purpose and utility of our profession beyond its intellectual pursuit. Debates about the social impact of sociology have been historically centred on three questions relevant to applied sociology – which I define here as sociology conducted outside universities for particular clients. These questions are: sociology for what?; sociology for whom?; and sociology for where? In today’s post, I will discuss the who, what and where of sociology, before introducing a fourth question that is so taken-for-granted we don’t spend much time talking about it in any concrete way. That is: how do we actually do sociology outside traditional academic research? We assume sociologists can go out into the world and apply their training to different problems. But what kind of problems do we work on and how do we actually carry out the work in different places? I argue  that applied sociology is set up as the “other” of academic sociology because of the context in which we practice our craft. This stops sociologists from engaging with one another effectively, and hinders the transformational work we do separately with our respective audiences.

I seek to build upon the framework discussed in this post for a series exploring the practicalities of doing sociology outside academia. I hope that the ideas explored here and in future posts can open up dialogue about how to better address collaboration  between academic and applied sociologists.

Sociology for what?

Robert Lynd posed the question “knowledge for what?” in 1939, teasing out the tensions about carrying out research that might be reappropriated by funding bodies to suit their vested interests. Sociologists study culture – but they are also the outcome of culture, as well as contributors to it. They are also constrained by the culture of the groups who fund their research. Lynd focused on American culture at a time where he felt that social scientists had to take a stand against particular institutions. Lynd argued we should only carry out research about topics that matched social science values.

Sociology has evolved from this idealist position, although sociological principles still steer researchers towards some topics and institutional causes over others. This question remains relevant to applied sociologists, as it demands that we ask: who benefits from sociological practice and how will our knowledge be used in “the real world”?

Sociology for whom?

Photo by Adam Jones via Flickr. Text by The Other Sociologist.

Alfred McClung Lee posed the question “sociology for whom?” in his 1976 Presidential Address to the American Sociological Association. This question has plagued sociology since its inception: why do we do sociology? Do we do it for other sociologists? If so, research and academic publishing are the main outcomes of our discipline. Do we do it for a broader public? If so, then how do we support the activities of sociologists who practice outside universities?

In the late 1990s, Anne Mensy argued that sociologists don’t see policy-makers as the primary consumers of sociological knowledge. This hampers the ability for sociologists to take control of how a “sociological consciousness” might be diffused to the broader public. Mensy sees that sociology is for everybody; it is not simply an academic art. It should shape what currently passes for “common sense,” ultimately replacing it with a reflexive approach to how individuals understand their responsibility to other people.

In 2004, Michael Burawoy addressed the same question by talking about the four audiences that sociology addresses. Two of these are academic audiences. Professional sociology is concerned about theory and empiricism. Critical sociology addresses our discipline’s ideals, morality and our internal debates. The other two audiences are non-academic. Policy sociology addresses clients and policy intervention. Public sociology speaks to broader society at the grassroots level as well as through public intellectualism. This includes widely-distributed books and mass media.

Ulrich Beck takes up Burawoy’s ideas and argues that sociology has already permeated other applied fields. He finds sociological concepts and methods are being used in government, journalism, social policy and law enforcement, but they’ve been transformed so they aren’t recognisable as sociology. Beck argues that our discipline has failed to take control of this knowledge diffusion. Beck muses that in some ways, this makes sociology “provocative” and exciting, because it is able to take life in new forms. In other ways, it suggests that sociology requires re-invention if it is to take charge of how sociology gets applied in non-academic contexts. Beck argues that the best way to do this is by addressing inequalities in different national contexts in novel ways. He also argues sociology needs to find new approaches if it is to actively shape social progress at the transnational level. Otherwise, he warns, sociology is at risk of becoming a “museum piece.” Beck writes:

a re-vitalised sociological imagination can and does have all kinds of impacts – it can be neglected, misunderstood and redefined for all kinds of interests. When public or other kinds of sociology become an integral part of practical and political discourses, they are effectively being ‘transformed’, that is, divested of their sociological identity, and constructed ‘anew’ in the interests and for the purposes of practical argumentation and acting.

Sociology for where?

Photo by Stitch via Flickr. Text by The Other Sociologist

Thinking about how place influences sociological analysis is central to the work of applied sociologists. Place can mean geography – where the research is being conducted. It can also speak to the social location (or status) of the researcher and their participants or clients in relation to the place where a project is undertaken.

Australian sociologist Barbara Pini illuminates the “sociology of where?”question beautifully by reflecting on her position as a young female PhD student interviewing male leaders of a rural Queensland agricultural organisation. Her participants were keen to emphasise their masculinity and heterosexuality as a point of superiority. Their discussion was focused on themselves as powerful, busy experts. Their language and tone was used to repeatedly undermine Pini’s scientific authority and her ability to represent their experiences given her status as a woman. Pini’s male supervisor attended some meetings with these agricultural leaders and he was not subjected to the same disrespect. Pini notes that her sociological training had not really prepared her to manage such experiences.

Feminism has made power relationships in research more visible. Feminists politicise the notion that the bodies of researchers and their participants communicate knowledge and power relations. Related issues are discussed through the concepts of the “embodied knower” and “situated knowledge.” Pini is now a fully-fledged academic (well and truly, she’s a Professor of sociology). This means her research does not meet my working definition of applied sociology. Nevertheless, her research brings focus on the personal costs of doing sociology in places where the embodied knowledge of sociologists is met with open hostility and aggression. Pini argues that sociology should be concerned with addressing sociological questions from several perspectives: “Who is asking whom about what and where?” So – how do we address these questions in a non-academic context?

How to apply sociology outside academia?

Photo by Renée Turner via Flickr. Text by The Other Sociologist

Applied sociologists do not always engage in research as a primary activity. They manage case work; they are involved in mediation; they work for unions; they manage local community projects; they work with not-for-profit groups; they are involved in policy and decision-making – amongst other things. Applied sociologists collaborate with activists and practitioners from other disciplines, and they work collaboratively with communities. The work we do does not always resemble the type of sociology privileged by the academy. Applied sociologists are often constrained in their ability to attend conferences and publish in academic journals. This means our work is less notable to our academic colleagues.

How we do sociology is just as important as knowing what, who and where we practice. We don’t see it important to ask “sociology for how?,” primarily because it’s poor grammar and moreover, it’s assumed that applying theories, concepts and methods is straightforward. It isn’t. Sociological tools need to translated, re-interpreted, negotiated and modified to suit different working contexts. Reflecting on applied sociological work, we should be asking:

Who is doing sociology with whom? About what? How and where?

Let’s think a little more about these questions using some examples:

• Sociology has long addressed issues of race, class gender and sexuality. It speaks about minority and disadvantaged groups, but not always engaging them in ways that acknowledges the intersections of oppression. Black feminists and “Third World” sociologists pose the question: who should study inequality and how should it be studied in different contexts?
• How do sociologists collaborate with physicians? How does medical sociology address different health and illness problems in different local, national and international settings? How do we measure whether sociological knowledge has benefit to different kinds of patients?
• How does sociology inform disaster planning? Do women understand natural disasters differently than men? Research suggests that they do, so how should gender relations shape disaster planning? How is a gendered disaster framework delivered to publics that aren’t used to thinking about gender or disaster in sociological ways?
• How do we better connect policy makers with the issues that are most important to youth? Plenty of research is conducted about children. Some of it involves children as research participants – but how does sociology facilitate kids to lead research about other kids? Can all children be transitioned into the role of researcher? Supporting the involvement of young researchers is difficult in practical ways that aren’t really discussed in the academic literature. It comes down to the political curiosity of different groups of youth, the types of questions being asked and even the way in which the physical research environment is set up (for example how tables and chairs are positioned).

There seems to be less of a focus on the temporal dimension of sociological practice. We don’t explicitly ask “sociology for when?”, although I’ve previously discussed that the sociology of time is a useful way to think about culture. Different groups have different understandings of time, and these ideas of time have given rise to different social relations. For now, it’s sufficed to say that social definitions of time in different parts of the world have an effect on the ways that applied sociologists work. I will take up this point much later in this blog series.

Another issue related to “how” and “where” of applied sociology relates to what happens in our absence in the industries and places that our discipline considers unsavoury, unworthy of our sociological attention, or otherwise problematic. Those of us who go to work outside universities are met with a great deal of criticism from our colleagues. The differences between academic and applied work contexts are very real, however, the ideological divisions between different sociological practices are artificial, unnecessary and fundamentally doing our discipline a disservice.

Applied sociology as the Other of academic sociology

I’ve  previously noted that the lines between applied and academic practices are sometimes blurred as many academics will work in policy areas or undertake contract work for clients. Researchers might start off working in universities, then work as consultants for a time, and then return to academia. Nevertheless, the what/whom/where/how questions facing academics who do research on applied topics have different connotations than the questions and issues facing sociologists who work in non-academic organisations. Notably, the collision between the “where” and “how” questions means that expertise of applied sociologists are not conferred the same institutional authority as universities do for academic sociologists.

In 2007, I founded the Applied Sociology Group within The Australian Sociological Association (TASA) to address the professional issues and concerns of non-academic sociologists. In 2009, a small group of colleagues and I set up Sociology at Work (S@W) to extend this network internationally. (We did so with the financial support of TASA.) S@W aims to support the career planning of sociology graduates and to promote the research and activities of applied sociologists. Through these groups, I have found that many applied sociologists will privately talk with one another about the confusion, derision and criticism we encounter from former academic colleagues about the work we do. Sometimes applied sociologists feel frustrated by our discipline’s focus on being “too academic” (defined as being overly focused on jargon and abstract ideas). Then again some applied researchers  find ways to accommodate academic practices in their daily work. Nevertheless, more often than not, applied sociologists are looked down upon by their former academic colleagues for doing work that is judged to be inferior.

By leaving the academy, we may enter organisations that make many academic sociologists uncomfortable either because of a moral objection to particular institutions or because the work seems to dilute sociological principles. This might relate to certain areas of government (“sociology for what?”), law enforcement (“sociology for whom?”), and commercial market research (“sociology for where?”).

For a long while, I have been arguing that applied sociology is set up as the “other” of academic work. When I left academia as an early career researcher, I specialised in ethnicity and migrant issues. After struggling to find stable, long-term work in academia, I went to work in government conducting analysis on counter-terrorism issues, national security and social cohesion. In doing so, I was met with a range of emotional responses by my academic colleagues and mentors related to the “sociology for what?” Some people were bemused and curious, but most were highly sceptical of what the motives could be for hiring a sociologist in the defence and national security space. Other sociologists were incredulous that I could maintain my ethical compass amidst the moral decay that they see as the undercurrent of all government work.

In 2007, I noted that Peter Berger once drew a comparison between sociologists who work for governments and ‘An alchemist locked up by a predatory prince who needs gold and needs it quickly…’ In the same article, I argued that this portrait of government work as nefarious explains the general reticence that sociologists have about national security research. I noted then that only a few Australian academics had publicly supported applied sociological work in this space. Little has changed since.

In 2010, I reflected about my adventures outside academia, focusing on the fact that my sociological training did not prepare me for how to manage my career beyond university walls. After five years, I left my job with the Australian Public Service. I would later go on to work on a large-scale investigation. We analysed how chemicals and practices used during training exercises may have led to adverse health and environmental outcomes amongst emergency service volunteers in rural Victoria in Australia. I will reflect further on my professional lessons in the near future. Today I want to draw a connection between the “otherness” of applied sociology and how it fits in with the broader questions of what, who, where and how of sociological practice.

My former Sociology at Work colleague, Anthony Hogan, has worked “at the coal face” of social policy. He argues that his academic colleagues are not willing or able to work on the “grimy” negotiations that are necessary to generate policy within government. Hogan argues that academics focus on “merciless critique” of social problems, but they are not willing to engage in the reality of doing policy work. This work involves compromises and fiscal concerns:

The art that I find so beguiling – developing policy iteratively, moulded by an environment of political contest and organisational advocacy, responsive to unexpected opportunity, stymied by unforeseen barriers and shaped by financial exigency – is an uncomfortable discipline for the purist. In the context of the insights that Bourdieu (1998; 2003), Shergold (2005), Saunders and Walter (2005) put forward, sociologists need to ask themselves: are we prepared to engage in practical policy processes that affects peoples’ lives while knowing that such processes will be imperfect? Are we prepared to put forward anything other than deconstruction? Are we able to accept the second-best outcome as Shergold asks? And can we work with policy development processes that are not going to be fully open and participative certainly not formally and certainly not in the short term?

The sociology for what, who, where and how questions have relevance not just for our respective academic and client audiences, but also within our discipline. How do we communicate effectively with outsiders if a significant proportion among us is not adequately engaged with the other? How do we permeate public consciousness and challenge power structures, as Mensy and Burawoy advocate, if we don’t cooperate more directly with policy makers and institutions (including the ones that may not don’t fit in with social science values)?

Where to from here?

Sociologists continue to grapple with the question of how to do sociology for people who are not sociologists, given that our discipline is primarily situated as an academic field. I’ve discussed the issues facing sociological practices in relation to four questions. First, sociology for what? This refers to the purpose and utility of sociology and the vested interest of groups that fund our work. Second, sociology for whom? This speaks to the different audiences and users of academic and applied sociological practices. Third, sociology for where? refers to the geographic and social location of the practitioner and their participants or clients. This question encompasses issues of embodied status and power. Finally, how do we practice sociology for particular groups in specific settings? This refers to clear, concrete examples which outline the process of applying theories, concepts, methods and principles in specific work contexts.

Sociological ideas are sometimes taken up by non-sociologists, but sociology has struggled to take control of how our methods and concepts are used in other fields. One way to address this is by becoming more aware of the who, what, where and how of different sociological practices. Another way to address this is by reducing the otherness of applied sociologists. Applied sociologists signify a bridge in between academic and public audiences. Our discipline might better off reconciling different sociological practices to better understand the nuts and bolts of social and institutional change.

This involves work on both sides. Academia can decrease the stigma attached to applied sociologists by having more empathy and respect for the reality of how applied sociologists work. This means listening and becoming educated about practitioners who inhabit different sociological spaces, rather than dismissing entire industries as a waste of sociological training. Applied sociologists need to find ways of sharing the what, who, where and how they practice sociology. Time and resources may exclude us from some modes of intra-disciplinary communication, such as face-to-face conferences and academic publishing, but it doesn’t exclude all opportunities to share our experiences. Academic and applied sociologists can decrease their distance by finding new ways of collaborating towards public sociology, so that together, we lift the public profile of our discipline.

Sociology needs to find innovative ways to feed the experiences of practitioners back to our academic colleagues. This might involve collaborating on projects or finding new platforms to share our work, including online, given that funding and timing prevents some of us from meeting face-to-face. Perhaps this means brining in more applied researchers into sociology classrooms to demonstrate how learning meets practice. I want to take this up in a later post on how to bridge the divide between academic and applied sociologies.

Photo by Alan Cleaver via Flickr. CC

The British not for profit organisation 4Children has published a study that finds parents who are wealthier tend to drink and use drugs more frequently than people from lower socio-economic backgrounds. Most middle class parents do not see their alcohol and drug use as having a negative impact on their families. At the same time, these parents are overwhelmingly worried about substance abuse in wider society. These findings defy common sense. First, the results go against the social convention that sustenance abuse is a bigger problem for poorer people. Second, if middle class parents are consuming drugs and alcohol at higher levels, why don’t they this as a problem for themselves, when it causes them alarm in others? The 4Children study suggests that there is a “culture of silence” about substance abuse in middle class families that British society is not prepared to acknowledge. I use this  study to make a point about the social construction of deviance. This means that, because there is already a high degree of moral panic and stigma about being poor, drugs and alcohol abuse is seen as symptomatic of poverty. Middle class groups enjoy certain social benefits, which include not having their personal problems define their character. This is why drinking and alcohol abuse is seen as a private affair for middle class families, and not a social illness. Poor people and other minorities are not entitled to such privacy. I show how social perceptions of deviance are shaped by class privilege and the problematic values that lie beneath “common sense.” My analysis is not an indictment of people who are drug and alcohol dependent; instead, I seek to move away from frameworks of shame and stigma generally associated with substance use and abuse. My post explores why the personal troubles of some groups are positioned as a public issue for others.

Middle Class Drug and Alcohol Abuse as a “Personal Problem”

The 4Children study drew on a sample of 751 parents, as well as professionals, youth and volunteers from community groups providing social services. Around 30% of parents drank more than the weekly recommended amount. Over the past year, 13% of fathers and 4% of mothers have been drinking alcohol daily, 8% of all parents have taken illicit drugs, and 7% have gotten high through legal prescriptions.

4Children – Over the Limit: The Truth about Families and Alcohol.

The findings appear to have contradictory results with respects to the perceived severity of substance abuse at the social level: 85% of people said that UK families need help managing drug and alcohol problems. At the same time, 62% of the parents interviewed felt that their drinking had no impact on their family life while 18% said the effect was positive. So if drugs and alcohol aren’t a problem for them, why do so many parents worry about substance abuse for the rest of society?

Part of the issue revolves around definitions. Three quarters of people had heard about the recommended alcohol intake but only 10% correctly identified what these limits are. This means that they do not see that they are abusing drugs and alcohol because they don’t understand that they are over consuming these substances. Another reason revolves around definitions of the responsibilities of shared parenting. Men were less likely than women to reduce their drug and alcohol intake after having children. This means that if fathers were drinking or using drugs more, mothers do it less. There is either less social pressure on men to change after they have kids, or their social activities are more likely to involve getting drunk or high. In either case, perhaps the disparate drinking levels amongst men and women counterbalance individual perceptions about the immediate effects of alcohol and drugs on their families. Regardless, there is something deeper going on.

The study finds that many parents felt ambivalent about their parenting skills on a general level. They did not readily make a connection between this feeling of inadequacy and their drinking and drug taking, even when they noticed that their children were embarrassed about their parents partying hard. One parent recalls how her children would apologise to friends and neighbours that “mummy and daddy were drunk again.” Another participant who is now aged 21, says that their parents’ partying was mortifying while they were growing up: “it was kind of embarrassing to have anyone around.” The report finds that middle class children whose parents drank and used drugs excessively “embrace a culture of secrecy,” which flows onto other aspects of their lives and relationships. They become preoccupied with looking after their parents and siblings, and they grow up feeling “isolated, emotionally abandoned, and physically unsafe.”

The findings negate the stereotype that lower class parents are more likely to abuse alcohol – these middle class parents’ excessive drinking and recreational drug use is simply less visible. It is construed as “normal” aspect of socialising and unwinding.

Sociology would explain these divergent ways of looking at the same problem through the idea of the social construction of deviance. This refers to the way societies judge behaviours of non-conformity against mainstream expectations of what is “normal” and socially acceptable. This encompasses both criminal activities as well as behaviours that are informally condemned – anything from swearing, to style of dress, to religious belief, to arriving late at a meeting, to how we choose to spend our leisure time. In this case, the same behaviour – substance abuse at home – is understood as a problem for groups that are already socially stigmatised and disadvantaged. This is not the case for members of the middle class. Their substance abuse is rendered less problematic by virtue of the fact that this group is constructed as the ordinary “norm” to which Others are judged against.

The 4Children report argues that there is a “culture of secrecy” that insulates middle class families from having to be socially accountable for the impact that parental substance abuse has on children. So why is middle class drinking and drug taking not given more public attention in comparison to poorer families?

Lower Class Drug and Alcohol Abuse as a “Public Issue”

The shame and stigma that Western societies attach to poverty reinforces the idea that drug and alcohol abuse is a problem amongst poor families, which in turn poses a threat to civil society. Conversely, society perceives that middle class family problems are personal troubles. Such private affairs are  dealt with behind closed doors, or ignored politely by friends and neighbours.

This logic is inverted to poorer families, whose substance abuse is seen as a public issue that requires active intervention by state agencies. The 4Children report is trying to shift this thinking, by arguing that substance abuse in middle class families also requires social solutions. Sociology can use the report’s data to highlight how the social meanings attached to drinking and drug use are culturally determined. The data suggest that the negative effects of substance abuse can affect children from privileged households as well as those from disadvantaged backgrounds. This simple lesson might seem like common sense but it is profound: middle class people see that drinking and drug use is a problem for Other people – people who aren’t like “us.” This may be due to skewed social perceptions about what type of alcohol and drugs are acceptable to consume in particular contexts.

Photo by epSos.de via Flickr

Place is important to meaning. Middle class families get drunk and high behind closed doors in nice suburbs – “just” to unwind after a stressful day, “just” to have fun. As it’s construed as recreational use, it’s not constructed as a way of life. Parents who use drugs and alcohol in low-income suburbs and in housing commission homes are already under the radar of social services. In poorer neighbourhoods, poverty accentuates the fact that drug and alcohol is a way of coping with the stresses of daily life. In middle class neighbourhoods, affluence masks the extent to which alcohol abuse and medication is also part of every day life.

This type of thinking makes it possible for state agencies to remove children from poorer households, while leaving middle class families intact. We see this not just just in British society, but in other Western societies. For example, throughout Australia’s history, with the removal of Indigenous children from their parents since European settlement began over two centuries a go. This includes 2007′s “Northern Territory Intervention,” which targeted child abuse by restricting Aboriginal parents’ access to alcohol, withholding welfare payments and increasing police presence in remote Indigenous communities. Children from middle class homes escape the same spotlight because society doesn’t see the need to intervene on behalf of parents who are, by all public purposes, otherwise abiding by social conventions. Common sense about what groups are at risk of drug and alcohol abuse does not match reality. Sociology provides a way to examine why ” common sense” prevails false ideas about social reality.

Common Sense, Class Privilege and Social Problems

“Common sense” about what problems are personal or public, are connected to class relationships. Groups with less power have some of their private troubles defined as a danger to the established law and order. Middle class families, by virtue of their social position, fly under the radar because they represent society’s “average household.” Middle class families can go about their daily routines, without being forced to be socially accountable for what happens behind closed doors. Yet middle class individuals do not readily recognise themselves as having any special advantages. They are not super wealthy; they do not feel as if they have the autonomy to change the way things are; and so they do not feel like they enjoy any extraordinary social benefits. Being middle class isn’t experienced as a type of power, and yet it is a social privilege. Not having your personal choices and personal troubles define you as a problem is an entitlement that poor people do not have. Not having to think about your drinking and drug use as a problem for your children, and not having your children taken away from you because of it, is a type of luxury that poor people do not have.

Famed sociologist C. Wright Mills draws out this distinction more broadly. He argued that individuals do not connect their private troubles with broader social patterns. Sociologists, however, see a connection between individual biography, history and institutional processes. Most ordinary members of society are not fully aware of how their daily lives are the outcome of societal relations. Personal troubles become public issues only where something that society values is perceived to be threatened. Mills argues that sociology provides a way for individuals to be more self-conscious about the values that they take for granted. Sociology enables us to ask: why are some problems characterised as a public threat? Why don’t more people reflect on the contradictions between their personal choices (drinking too much, getting high) and their public attitudes (drugs and alcohol are not a problem for me, but they’re a problem for others)?

Mills shows that personal values and public threats are connected to the social order, and who benefits from having this order seem invisible and natural. The middle class and other elite groups benefit from having society accept the logic of the way things are being seen as the way things are meant to be. When their values are not perceived to be under threat, people in positions of privilege experience a sense of well-being. Things are right and normal as they stand. When these values are perceived to be threatened, these same people will experience a crisis. The point at which a personal problem becomes a public issue is when the established social order is threatened. Society panics about issues and groups that challenge or problematise the status quo. There are two general scenarios where this happens, with different public outcomes. These depend upon the level of public consciousness about what we value:

1. When people are not especially aware of what exact values they hold dear and they do not feel under threat, they might experience indifference or apathy;
2. If people feel under threat in spite of the fact that they don’t fully understand what they value, they will feel uneasy and they will perceive cause for social anxiety.

Drinking and drug use falls into this latter category: middle class people do not perceive their substance abuse as a problem because society paints this as a problem in other households, in poorer neighbourhoods far away from them. Poverty is preconceived as a public issue, and so people feel that poor people’s drinking poses a social problem, which causes them alarm. Mills points out that problems associated with leisure activities are only construed as a public issue when they are connected to the paid work force. Poor or unemployed people are seen to drain society’s assets – when people do not contribute to the paid labour force, their personal troubles are a public issue. Their inability to find secure employment is a personal failure and a public nuisance, but it is not always seen as the outcome of institutional and historical processes, like deregulation, exploitation, divergent life opportunities, and the pursuit of consumption.

Similarly, society sees that it is a social responsibility to take kids out of poor families where drugs and alcohol are a problem. It is not a social responsibility to do the same for middle class kids, because they’re not stuck in a cycle of poverty. So long as the middle class continues to contribute to paid labour, their personal troubles stay personal.

As Mills shows, the aim of sociology is to demonstrate how public issues come to be “officially formulated.” Sociologists critically reflect on the social processes by which the personal troubles of some groups are allowed to be experienced in private, whilst for others these troubles are publicly managed. Sociology argues that all personal troubles must be understood as a public issue: they are the outcome of history, social institutions and class relationships. The aim of sociology is not to keep maintaining the idea that personal troubles are a sign of deviance, but rather to understand why certain issues are given different social meanings. Who benefits? How do we reformulate social problems and take responsibility for them in a way that doesn’t perpetuate inequality and stigma? Sociology prevents us from taking social problems and “common sense” at face value.

Beyond the Culture of Silence

Although middle class parents in Britain drink higher rates of alcohol than the recommended daily intake, and despite the fact that they are getting high using elicit drugs and other medications, most parents do not see this as a problem for their families. These same parents are, however, concerned about the impact of substance abuse in society. Social convention dictates that drug and alcohol abuse is a public problem amongst poor families – society intervenes when lower class parents abuse drugs and alcohol because this is seen to endanger poor children. Middle class kids are not seen as being endangered when their parents use drugs or alcohol. The 4Children study  shows that substance abuse is, in fact, a much larger problem amongst middle class homes. Yet society does not construe this as a social problem requiring outside intervention. I have explored why this contradiction persists in the public imagination. It is the outcome of historical and institutional forces; specifically, the taken-for-granted privilege and unseen power embedded within class relations.

Sociology inverts the logic of common sense and provides a way to be critical about public conventions. As Mills argued, sociology provides a way to improve the quality of life, by making visible the values we hold dear, and those we take for granted. Using sociology, we explore and act upon the issues we are consciously worried about, and address why we ignore other troubles. Using sociology, we cannot explain away personal and public issues as other people’s problems. Drinking and drug abuse is either a problem affecting all families, or an issue for none. Sociology encourages us to see personal and public issues as a social responsibility for all members of society, whose solutions involves everyone and excludes no one.

Learn More

Read the entire 4Children study “Over the Limit: The Truth about Families and Alcohol” (PDF).

Link to study via BBC.

Photo by Shiho Fukada via Pulitzer Centre

Shiho Fukada’s Pulitzer Centre project on Japan’s “disposable workers” focuses on people who are precariously employed in casual and “dead end” jobs. They are underpaid, working long hours but without any of the benefits or sense of stability of full time employment. This affects people who are homeless as well as white collar workers who are driven to suicide due to mental and physical exhaustion. I see that Fukada’s photo essay offers an insightful visual critique of economic progress and the rapid increase of an “underclass” in one of the world’s most advanced societies. I argue that Fukada’s work might be understood through the sociological concept of anomie, a term that describes the social alienation that follows a society’s shift in morals and values. In this case, I explore how a cultural change in attitude means that workers are less valued in Japan, leading to socio-economic and mental health problems. I draw a comparison between the Japanese and the Australian workforce. I conclude by showing how sociologists seek to help governments, employers, developers and community organisations work together to better support a sustainable and ethical economic future.

Disposable workforce

Fukada is a photojournalist with a BA in Literature. In describing her photographs of Japan’s “disposable workers,” Shiho Fukada argues that Japan is experiencing a dual crisis of social relations and economic exploitation. Despite Japan’s booming economy, the nation has transitioned from a society of workers who grew up expecting full-time, secure employment, to a workforce that now treats people as “disposable bodies” who can be flung away without notice. Many of these workers are homeless, some of them sleeping on the streets, or they seek refuge in 24 hour internet cafés as they have no other place to rest in between their shifts.

Photo by Shiho Fukada via Pulitzer Centre 

Young women also make up a troubling sub-category of disposable workers, with university graduates going into hostess bar work, as they are unable to find professional jobs in their fields of qualification. Fukada reports that these women are stuck in “low-paying, dead end” jobs. She continues:

Critics see women as the embodiment of Japan’s productivity problem. One of the world’s best educated labour forces, stuck in banal jobs that do little to grow the economy. Women see no opportunities to maximise their potential.

Photo by Shiho Fukada via Pulitzer Centre on YouTube 

Photo by Shiho Fukada via Pulitzer Centre on YouTube 

Some societies have normalised the expectation of under-employment and casual work within unhealthy or exploitative conditions. For example, societies such as Australia prioritise a 40 hour work week, where most workers are not afforded the flexibility to achieve adequate work-life balance. Barbara Pocock, Natalie Skinner and Philippa Williams have explored how this economic expectation forces people to work long hours, while leaving them with less time to take care of their health, their communities and the environment. For example, men in general have little time to care for children and other dependants while women are pushed to balance unequal domestic responsibilities against their professional aspirations. Part-time and casual jobs are one way to work around life commitments, but this often leads to personal or economic stress.

In other societies, longer work hours are expected but there are different trade offs as a result.

Sociologists Ross Mouer and Hirosuke Kawanishi argue that up until the 1980s, social commentators in Western nations erroneously presumed that Japan’s continued economic success was ensured. It was believed that Japanese workers were overly committed to working long hours at great personal sacrifice. The Japanese “cultural paradigm” of work was seen to be connected to feudalistic values such as

group loyalty, a motivation to achieve based on duty and the fear of shame or losing face, and Confucian frugality - and a special sense of community or national census.

Mouer and Kawanishi find that Japanese workers were not as passively committed to their jobs as convention would have us believe. These researchers find that workers and managers had different sets of values that guided their work commitments. It was not some utopian cultural mindset that compelled all Japanese people to sacrifice themselves for the good of their nation. Financial crises in the 1990s called into question economic harmony in Japan. Marxist and socialist groups had been questioning Japan’s class system for decades. Even those groups who enjoyed a high standard of living were facing severe stress and health problems, including karoshi (meaning “death from overwork”). Like Mouer and Kawanishi’s sociological research, Fukada’s photography raises questions about the social consequences of inequitable industrial relations and dominant styles of management in Japan.

“Salary Men”: Suicide as the Price of Disposable Employment

Fukada argues that the relatively privileged group of white collar businessmen (“salary men”) can also be classified as disposable workers. While on the surface, they might be seen to have secure full-time employment, many are driven to suicide, seeing no way out of the endless hours of work. Working less hours is no longer an option for them, as they fear that they may lose their jobs. This has contributed to a rise in recorded suicide rates, which Fukada reports has climbed to 30,000 suicides over the past 15 years. Social isolation, despair and exhaustion contributes to this rise in suicide among male workers. Fukada interviewed one woman who said about her husband’s suicide:

Most  fathers in Japan are workaholics. Many salary men can’t share dinner with their family members. It’s an abnormal work situation where they work until midnight and go to work the next morning.

The personal trauma and grief of such suicides is compounded by the social impact on families. Wives and children are left to deal with the debt, loneliness, secrecy and shame that follows “salary men” suicides. Some of these families report being harassed by their husband’s former companies; such families are intimidated to discourage them from seeking compensation.

Fukada’s images and interview material might be seen as a potent illustration of the sociological concept of anomie.  

Anomie: Alienation and Social Responsibility

Anomie describes the moral isolation that follows when a society experiences a sudden shift and the existing social norms cannot adequately guide individuals through this social transition. For example, this might happen when a society moves swiftly from a state of slow or steady economic growth to a sudden increase in economic progress. An influx of wealth can be just as devastating as the loss of income, as people’s consumer patterns and personal priorities change their sense of social connection. This might lead them to question their life’s purpose. Anomie therefore describes when a society has changed so drastically that the established cultural values no longer provide social cohesion for group members. Anomie can explain various social problems in modern societies that actually stem from historical and cultural changes. For example:

• the ongoing trauma faced by displaced people and refugees;
• the historical effects of postcolonialism on the present-day life outcomes of indigenous populations; and
• the rapid rise of an underclass, such as with the groups Fukada features.

The concept of “underclass” is used in sociology to describe groups in society who experience the greatest levels of socio-economic disadvantage and exploitation.

Durkheim explored the connection between anomie and the rise in suicide rates around the world in his pioneering research, Suicide: A Study in Sociology. While this work has been much debated for the past century, it is useful to consider with respect to the Japanese “salary men” suicide patterns. Durkheim’s argument also has broader implications to the other groups of disposable workers.

Durkheim studied international patterns of suicide at the end of the 19th Century using historical records and statistical data. He found that societies experiencing a sudden economic boom exhibited higher rates of suicide in comparison to societies that had settled into a long period of poverty. Durkheim argues that social equilibrium prevents suicide patterns from rising. It is not poverty nor wealth per se that affect suicide rates, but rather any dramatic change in the economy – whether that be a sudden rise or fall – that actually disrupts people’s sense of well-being. Other social factors will impact on the social patterns of suicide, such as religion, gender, marital status and political turmoil. Durheim’s work continues to be controversial, however it remains influential because it takes a phenomena that most people understand as an individual choice – to end one’s life – and puts it in broader social context.

Durkheim’s research on anomie and the other social causes of suicide invites us to see the connections between individual action, the labour force, economic relations and how other social institutions affect suicide. It provides a framework for thinking through the varied ways in which different societies structure social morals and our collective responsibilities for looking after community members during times of crisis. In the case of Fukada’s photo essay, we might think about the question: when employers do not look after the health and well being of their workers, whose social responsibility is it to address the problems faced by Japan’s disposable workforce? 

As is the case in many developed nations, Japan faces an increasingly aging workforce that continue to seek out work well beyond the age of 65. This is not simply due to a high commitment to work itself. Older Japanese workers need to work because their pensions are not enough to live on and because older workers see “health” benefits in staying active through work. Specifically, work provides an opportunity to socialise with other people and stave off loneliness.

Older workers have a wealth of experience and knowledge that should be drawn upon – to dismiss these aged workers would be equivalent to treating them as disposable workers. Then again, if after a life time of service, people are forced to work due to meagre pensions or because there is no alternative social network of support, this suggests something is severely dysfunctional about the way in which work is structured. There has to be a better way to achieve economic progress while also valuing workers and meeting their basic rights and needs as human beings.

Sociology Can Help

Societies have a tendency to position people’s economic and personal problems as the outcome of individual choice, illness or misfortune. This includes people who struggle to cope with life alone and workers who are disenfranchised. When an individual’s well being seems to spiral outside of their control, or when people are in so much pain that they decide to end their lives, we see that some personal disaster leads to these outcomes. We look for individual explanations connected to genetics, personal history, poor financial management or plain old “bad luck.” The concept of anomie shows that there are social causes to alienation, poor health and suicide. These result from cultural values, economics, work,  and other social institutions.

In times of prosperity or economic downturn, workers’ health and psychological well being are not simply explained away by individual troubles or isolated issues. Poverty, homelessness and stress are the social consequence of social and economic relations. Social problems require collective action. We can look to Fukada’s photographs and the wealth of sociological evidence as a call to action. My post has focused on Japan with contrast to Australia, but the issue of worker rights are universal. Societies in general need to reposition the plight of “disposable workers” as a social responsibility.

Barbara Pocock, Natalie Skinner and Philippa Williams argue in the Australian case that governments, employers, developers and community organisations are currently working at odds to address the effects of work on society. The researchers argue that sustainable work practices can be achieved through social policy and industrial relations arrangements that take into consideration:

Reasonable work hours that fit with workers’ needs and preferences…
Reasonable workloads that represent realistic and achievable goals within a reasonable time frame…
Opportunities for flexibility around the work clock and its schedule…
Supports for working mothers and fathers, and for workers who provide other types of care such as to elderly or disabled people…
Supportive workplace cultures, practices and leadership…
A better holiday system…

Pocock, Skinner and Williams argue that because work impacts on health and safety, particularly as people are overworked, employers and governments need to implement a “decent care” system that looks after the well being of workers in a holistic manner. This means providing adequate care during work hours, as well as providing good health resources and infrastructure for workers when they are “off the clock.” From providing access to reliable commuting options to decrease the time spent travelling to work; to making available diverse local services to support the caring and educational responsibilities of workers; and providing healthy meals for workers and as well as affordable housing options. The researchers write:

Our capacity to reduce our environmental impact will be shaped by the innovation, incentives and supports provided by governments and employers who recognise the time and resource constraints that affect workers and their households, and work around them… One thing is certain: too much work creates hazards that many of us suspect and too few truly understand or try to measure. If we want to draw more of our citizens into productive paid work over more of their life-times, we need to change the terms of work, the organisation and practices of home life and the operation of our communities so that these domains can work together - sustainably.  And we need to do this in way that recognises differences between men and women, young and old and higher and low paid.

Watch the video below to see Fukada’s haunting images, and listen to her discussion of this important sociological issue. Fukada’s photography offers a visual critique of the hidden (or ignored) underside of economic and technological progress.

Credits

Images by Shiho Fukada via Pulitzer Centre (1 and 2) and the above video (3 and 4).

Visit Shiho Fukada’s website to see more of her striking and highly affecting photography.

Link to video: @26pglt

17th Century Persian Men’s Shoe. Via BBC

By Zuleyka Zevallos

High heel shoes were once a status symbol for powerful men, from horse riding soldiers in 16th Century Persia, to European aristocrats in the 17th Century. Since the Enlightenment period, heels became associated with “irrational” fashion and pornography, and so “impractical” shoes became a symbol of femininity. What changed? Today’s post examines how history and fashion trends related to high heels help us to see how gender is a performance that entrenches inequality.

16th to 17th Century: Heels as a Sign of Masculine Utility, Wealth and Power

As far back as the 16th and 17th centuries, in different parts of the world, wealthy and powerful men wore high heels as a symbol of their social position. Persian soldiers wore high heels as they were seen as practical gear for horse riding. Later on in Europe, aristocrats wore high heels for the opposite reason: high heels were uncomfortable and they had no utility, other than to display one’s luxury. The men who wore them did not have to walk far and so to wear heels was a sign of privilege.

As men became more focused on education and economic and gender relations become more rigid, women are alternatively seen as emotional and unable to be educated. Women’s desirability is increasingly linked to “foolish” fashion. Heels become a symbol of femininity for the same reason they were once loved by wealthy European men: they are painful, impractical and frivolous. Men no longer wear heels because social ideas of gender have changed – men are supposed to embody practicality while women are treated as being irrational.

High heeled shoes fell out of favour with both women and men in France during the French Revolution. Civil conflict brings about death and poverty. Class and gender relations change once more. Displays of affluence through dress and shoes are no longer socially acceptable to the same degree. Consequently, high heels are once again seen as impractical for both genders.

By the mid-19th Century, as photography takes off and technology becomes more available, pornographers began photographing women in heels, thus introducing a gendered perception of heels as a symbol of women’s erotic value. This vision remains today, although feminists, transsexual men, and queer perspectives challenge the gender binary embodied through shoes and dress (or as we say in sociology, they challenge the presentation of self).

Author Elizabeth Semmelhack was asked by the BBC if heels could once again become standard gear for men. She replies:

Absolutely… If it becomes a signifier of actual power, then men will be as willing to wear it as women.

Doing Gender: Fashion and Gender as Inequality

The history of heels is a poignant example of West and Zimmerman’s theory of doing gender. These researchers argued that gender is something we “do” – we perform gender through the way we dress, the way we talk and walk, and the way we think about men and women in general. Although societies are structured around the idea that men and women are fundamentally different, history shows that the way in which femininity and masculinity are viewed changes over time. Certain fashions and ideas once associated with men are now seen as “effeminate” or the opposite of what men are supposed to be.

Louis XIV, 1701 portrait by Hyacinthe Rigaud. Via BBC

West and Zimmerman show that gender is an “accomplishment.” People are held accountable for their gender identities through the way they look. If you wear something associated with the opposite gender, then you disrupt the notion that men and women are “naturally” meant to act a certain way. Through the seemingly quirky example of powerful men wearing heels, such as Louis XIV in the portrait to the right, we see how doing gender is also a way of perpetuating inequality.

As West and Zimmerman argue, “Gender is a powerful ideological device”: it reproduces inequality through our everyday actions and it also limits our choices. Something so mundane such as the reason why women wear heels while men do not is locked to a complex history. Heels are uncomfortable to wear but they bring pleasure to those who wear them because they help us symbolise our social identities.

Via BBC

Men once wore heels but now they do not. This is not simply due to some passing fad. Men who wear heels generally draw laughter, ridicule, fear or confusion, and yet this was not always the case. Men who wear heels are thought to be wearing women’s fashion, although not all women wear heels and not all people who wear heels fit into some neat category of masculine or feminine. The social and historical variations of what high heels symbolise demonstrates how class, time, place and social structures control how we think about and act out our our gender identities.

The sociology of the mundane helps us see how the things we take for granted, such as our fashion choices, have a deeper meaning that should be critically explored.

By Zuleyka Zevallos, PhD.

Trigger Warning: Rape.

Via Won’t Stop Til We Surrender

A couple of weeks a go, a new, so-called “anti-rape” underwear device got quite a bit of international attention. It was invented by a team of Indian students, including two women. The device was designed to give rapists an electric shock. It is also reportedly equipped with a GPS tracking device to alert the women’s parents and police that she is being assaulted. The underlying attitudes that led these engineers to make this device are representative of the problem of rape not just in India, but in other parts of the world. Rape and harassment are not seen as public issues that require social intervention, but rather these are perceived as personal problems that individual women must navigate and manage in their day-today lives. In Australia, women’s public safety is also positioned as a personal issue. Both the Jill Meagher case and the public sexual harassment of Prime Minister Julia Guillard exemplify that women are ultimately forced to fend for themselves, while society does little to acknowledge rape culture as a societal responsibility.

“Eve Teasing” and Gang Rape in India

The inventors of the “anti-rape underwear,” Mohan and Tripathy, have named their device SHE, which stands for Society Harnessing Equipment. They say the device provides women with “freedom from situations faced in public places”. They say:

Lawmakers take ages to come up with just laws and even after that, women are unsafe… Hence, we have initiated the idea of self-defence, which protects the women from domestic, social and workplace harassment.

Via Free Radikal

It sounds like a well-intentioned project, however, the problem with this device and its logic is that it reinforces the idea that rape and assault is an issue of personal safety. This is not the case. Gender violence is a public issue. Curiously, the name of the device evokes a public service (“society harnessing”), but it places this public service on individual women. Society asks women to reconsider their movements, their clothing and their their lifestyle choices so that they might minimise their chances of being raped. If women are walking alone at night and they are raped, they are seen as having foolishly put themselves in harm’s way. If they are assaulted whilst on a date or during a night out, her clothes, her behaviour and her sexual history are all put into question. If a woman stands up for herself whilst men cat-call and harass them in public, as is the case with the “Eve teasing” phenomena in India, she is castigated for having endangered herself further.

The fact that the law, the police and the criminal justice system are failing to ensure women’s public safety does not mean that individual women should be put in the position to tackle rapists on their own. This is exactly  how a culture of rape is perpetuated: women are left to deal with sexual harassment on their own.

The rape and murder of Jill Meagher last year in a popular Melbourne suburb demonstrates the divergent public perception of gender violence. Violence perpetrated by strangers evokes a stronger public response than domestic violence  There is a higher sense of fear about strangers and there’s a broader call for reform for public safety, even though this represents only a small minority of rape and murder cases. The wider-reaching violence that women experience in their every day lives does not evoke the same public outcry. Why is this so?

Public Discourses on Jill Meagher’s Murder

Jill Meagher march on Sydney Road, Brunswick, 30th of September 2012. Via Remember Our Sisters Everywhere

There was an outpouring of public concern following the disappearance of Jill Meagher, which culminated in shock and grief after the discovery of her rape and murder. Up to 30,000 people marched through Melbourne to demonstrate their solidarity and to demand justice for Meagher and her family. The photo above shows the organiser of this public demonstration holding a sign saying: “Choosing peace, hope, solidarity and non-violence with all women.” Of all the images accompanying the rally, this one stood out to me because it did not fit in with the public discourse. The organiser’s poster clearly signals that Jill Meagher’s rape and murder was connected to a broader pattern of gender violence.

The dominant public discussions about Meagher’s death did not have this social focus. The general public was aghast about the horrible rape and murder of one particular woman, and the personal ramifications of this violence. Public discussions generally centred on how this horrendous act could happen to any woman. It did not lead to robust debate about more common acts of gender violence, which happen routinely around Australia in the privacy of many homes.

This does not to take away from the gravity of Meagher’s tragic end – gender violence should enrage the Australian public! The issue is that we only hear about horrid crimes where some women are attacked on the street. The public response to this particular case requires a sociology of rape culture.

Julie Stephens notes in The Conversation that public reflections of Meagher’s death have focused on the issue of personal safety. This hideous crime seems to have compelled ordinary Australian women to fear walking home at night more than ever before. Stephens’ article critiques the public response which she sees is centred on “unfettered individualism.” That is, on a neo-liberal ideal that individual free will should prevail: that is, individual women should feel free to walk the streets. Stephens argues that this focus on one woman’s tragic end has not led to a greater awareness about other patterns of gender violence, such as “invisible” minority women who are trafficked into Melbourne to be used as sex slaves.

Writing for the New Matilda,Violeta Politoff  notes that Australian data from the International Violence Against Women Survey finds that more than half of all women have experienced physical or sexual violence, primarily at the hands of close relatives and partners, including uncles, fathers, friends, and husbands. She also notes that 20 percent of murders in Australia being perpetrated by an intimate partner, with 4/5 of these homicides involving a man who kills his female partner.

Politoff argues that crimes involving strangers creates greater levels of social anxiety because domestic gender violence is perceived as a personal problem to be managed by individuals. This individual perspective on violence has societal ramifications: it means that people are less likely to report crimes involving people they know and it subsequently means that less people are prosecuted for these crimes. Moreover, people are less likely to categorise violence by a partner, family member or friend as a “crime” – we call this “abuse” – and so it largely remains a personal trouble to be managed behind closed doors, or through victim counselling, rather than through the criminal justice system. Politoff writes:

These statistics make me wonder why we don’t see more outpourings of community concern in other cases of violence against women?… safe streets shouldn’t be the main focus of a discussion about gender-based violence. To do this misrepresents the risks faced by women, burdens them unfairly with managing that risk, and ignores the more difficult but most fundamental part of the problem: gender relations. Preventing violence against women is about more than safe streets; it’s about safe relationships, safe workplaces, and safe homes. And all of this hinges on our collective understandings of gender.

Women are expected to tolerate various forms of public abuse in a way that men are not expected to endure. The public sexual harassment of Australian Prime Minister Julia Guillard shines a light on the tacit social acceptable of gender violence.

Public Sexual Harassment of Prime Minister Julia Guillard

Prime Minister Julia Gillard’s Parliamentary speech in October 2012 rebounded around the world. The speech was commended by feminists and human rights supporters. I see that the speech and the context in which it occurred illuminates the Australian public’s collective complicity in a public sexual harassment. Our complicity inadvertently supports a culture of rape.

Image via The Vine

You can watch the entire 15 minute speech below. It’s worth seeing the Prime Minister passionately point out Opposition Leader Tony Abbott’s sexism. The complex political context of this speech hasn’t gotten as much international attention as Gillard’s evocative words. In the days leading up to this speech, “shock jock” Allan Jones made a sexist remark that the PM’s recently deceased father had “died of shame” over his daughter’s policy decisions. At the same time, Abbott had called to remove the Parliamentary Speaker, Peter Slipper, who was embroiled in a sexual harassment scandal. (Slipper has since resigned in disgrace.) The day that Abbott called for Slipper’s removal, he evoked Jones’ words, by repeating the word “shame” and then saying the PM should “die of shame.”

The Prime Minister’s speech appears to be sparked by these immediate events, but the PM’s words also reflect the sexual harassment she has endured since she took over leadership of the Labor Party.

Melinda McPherson makes a compelling case for understanding the importance of Gillard’s speech in The New Matilda. On the one hand, the Prime Minister has been strangely silent about the relentless sexism she has endured from her colleagues, by the media and segments of the public. On the other hand, her speech finally addresses the impact of this sexism. Her colleagues, Tony Abbott in particular, have actively participated in misogyny, but they have also been complicit in other ways, by not standing up to this behaviour. McPherson notes that Gillard’s language was carefully chosen. The PM addressed her personal anger over the sexist behaviour of politicians, but she also lists concrete examples that chart a pattern of sexist behaviour by the Opposition party and by its Leader specifically.

Anne Summers also provides a comprehensive analysis of the grotesque and violent abuse that the Prime Minister has endured. The NSFW version of Summer’s article contains pornographic images aimed to humiliate the PM (this version has the images removed). Summers has compiled an exhaustive list of sexist comments, cartoons and violent threats. Her analysis brings home the point that if this type of abuse was being levelled at anyone else, any self-respecting person would feel aghast that the law hadn’t intervened to make this woman’s workplace safer.

Summers argues that in any other job, Julia Gillard should be protected from the sexual harassment and inequitable treatment she faces. Australian legislation such as the Sex Discrimination Act and the Fair Work Act state that by law, all Australians have the right to go to work and not be subjected to negative treatment due to their gender. This includes not being subjected to pornographic images, hate speech and bullying. Summers asks: “What are the prime minister’s rights at work?”

Summers notes that if Gillard was the CEO of a large company (“Australia Pty Ltd”), and the Australian population were shareholders, we would all have a mutual set of rights and obligations. This means supporting Julia Gillard’s right to carry out her job without daily denigration and intimation. The law offers this protection, but it somehow doesn’t apply to our PM. We have all borne witness to this abuse and yet we allow it to be perpetuated. It has become so routine that it took Allan Jones’ thoughtless remarks about a deceased man, Gillard’s father, to make the nation finally take notice. Even then, public intervention was about being fed up with Jones’ personality, as evidenced in this petition (which I’ve signed). This wasn’t truly a social protest to implore our politicians to cease their silent endorsement of sexism.

Gillard has disappointed the public due to her conservative and exclusionary policies on gay marriage and asylum seekers. As Melinda McPherson points out, the same day that Gillard gave her rousing speech, her Government cut funding for single parents. This decision adversely affects women in particular.  Does the PM deserve the public’s sympathy for the sexist comments she’s endured, given her leadership choices?

You can dislike the PM’s policies, but to feel undisturbed by the way she is treated due to her gender makes us all participants in sexism. Why doesn’t the PM stand up for gay rights? Why doesn’t she uphold the rights of asylum seekers? Why doesn’t she speak up more on women’s rights issues? These are legitimate questions, and we all have a right to protest these issues and demand legislation change from our PM. These issues do not negate the fact that no human deserves to be denigrated as a second class citizen. This applies to a new refugee just arrived on our shores, as well as the Prime Minister. Disagreeing with policies does not justify another form of gender injustice.

Video via ABC YouTube. Image via TheVine.

Addressing Rape Culture

Social norms define the majority of gender crimes as an individual problem because they happen behind closed doors. Abuse in the home is not generally perceived as a crime. Gender violence in the home rarely raises much public concern, however, sexual violence involving strangers preoccupies society.

Rape culture is instilled to us since birth. In early childhood socialisation, children are taught about “stranger danger.” Women are told to modify their appearance unless they expect to be assaulted. The law focuses on dress, behaviour and sexual history as preventative measures against rape. Society presumes that men will attack if women don’t take better care of their own safety. If women behave according to society’s standards, by meeting feminine ideals and seeking the safety of male companions, then they are worthy of sympathy. If they diverge, society treats these women as having “asked for it.”

The gang rape incidents in India have drawn critical international attention, but again this is because they have happened in public places. As I chronicled previously, Indian women had been expected to endure sexual harassment any time they stepped out in public. The situation in Australia is not much better when the woman in the highest political position in Parliament cannot go to work without enduring routine sexist abuse.

Given that half of Australian women have been raped or assaulted by people they know and trust, and given that the majority of women who are killed are murdered by their partners, gender violence is not really a problem of personal safety. Women walking the streets at night face a lower risk of being attacked by a stranger. For these reasons, gender violence is not a personal problem that can be solved by wearing shock-delivering underwear. “Anti-rape” devices tell women that they should expect to be raped, and that when it happens, they are on their own. This mentality signals that rape culture is pervasive. It suggests that rape is something we all have to live with and that we should all just give up pursuing social reform. This is exactly the reason why other, more common, forms of gender violence go under-reported and under-prosecuted.

While everyone is busy fearing strangers, and looking away as public figures are sexually berated before our eyes, we help perpetuate two myths: 1) that gender violence is a personal matter; and 2) that “bad men” can’t help themselves unless women are hyper-vigilant and always afraid. Women are taught chastity and how to protect themselves, but men are not taught restraint and how not to rape. The rape culture mentality disempowers individuals and prevents social change. We can – and should - demand better.

Credits for images in slideshow: Culture Vulture;  Walk a Mile in her Shoes; Military Sexual Trauma; Equality for Women.

The Atlantic has followed Rev. Tuck Taylor, a mother of two and an ordained elder of the United Methodist Church in North Carolina, USA. She is one of “thousands” of citizens who have coordinated a series of civil disobedience protests against various social welfare issues. They call their protest “Moral Monday,” a designated day where citizens descend upon official public buildings to protest using music, speeches and prayer. Ordinary citizens, academics and clerics volunteer to lead the protests and nominate themselves to be arrested in order to protest diverse concerns such as cuts to unemployment and health assistance, taxes and repeal of environmental measures.

Rev. Tuck Taylor. Photo: The Atlantic

While the Reverend may lose her job with her Church, she sees that it is her civil and religious duty to voice her discontent with her local government. The Reverend says:

“There are no unclean people — only unclean systems.”

This is a great case study for studying the intersections of the sociology of religion and the sociology of politics.

Sociology of religion and social welfare in Australia

Desmond Cahill, Gary Bouma and colleagues published an insightful report on the advocacy work of religious institutions in Australia. Not all religious groups impose their beliefs on others, although the study finds that many Australians are worried about this very issue when it comes to funding the social services of religious organisations. The historical analysis by Cahill and his team shows that local religious groups have carried out vital social justice and welfare work. This includes assisting new migrants and refugees, delivery of employment services, provision of drug and alcohol referrals, and other welfare support. While some religious organisations have been accused of overstepping the boundaries of their secular work (in one case, Jewish employees said they were forced to attend Catholic Mass), in most circumstance, there was a stronger distinction between the religious mission and social responsibility of charitable work.

Most of the community-level religious groups studied were providing social, legal and economic support for disadvantaged and vulnerable groups with scarce resources and funding. Some of these groups were doing so with added political pressure. For example Muslim groups were struggling to cope with their charity work on top of the racial vilification and threat of violence since the September 11, 2001 attacks in the USA and the 12th of October 2012 attacks in Bali.

The example of Rev. Tucker and Cahill’s report show that the sociology of religion can provide an alternative perspective on the political activism and social welfare work of religious organisations. These examples also shed light on the distinction between the agency of individuals and local religious organisations and the broader institution of religion.

Distinction between religious institutions and local agency

The Reverend worried about the consequences of taking a stand for what she believed was her right to civil protest. Her institution may or may not support her decision. Large religious institutions are rightfully under public scrutiny for their assets, funds and in some cases for their social exclusion of minorities (such as LGBTQI members). All the while smaller religious groups at the local level are under increased pressure to deliver services to groups that broader society neglects.

It is tempting to criticise and dismiss religion based on dominant dogma. When religious institutions impose literal readings of theology, religion becomes a restrictive force. (Although what counts as “literal” readings of religious texts depends upon fundamentalist and postmodern understandings.) Religion in its most basic sociological form, is a system of social meaning. Texts provide a guide for everyday life, as well as a structure for social action. Religious interpretation of social action is contested.

In the video below, renowned sociologist Peter Berger says that that the one area where his theoretical stance has changed over time is with respect to the relationship between religion and modernity. When Berger was first writing about religion in the 1960s, most social theorists such as himself argued that with increased modernity (economic and technological advancement) came increased secularisation. History shows that this has not been the case. Some of the world’s largest capitalist societies are also home to the biggest fundamentalist movements. For example, fundamentalist Christianity in the USA, and Pentecostalism in particular. In other capitalist societies, religious affiliation has declined steadily, such as in different European regions. In developing nations, increased levels of education and technological innovation have led to social revolutions against theocratic rule, with mixed political results. In this case, the role of religion and “modernity” are poorly understood through Western frameworks.

Spanish sociologist Manuel Castells wrote about religious resurgence back in the 1990s. He argued that religion provides a vehicle for identity mobilisation. Some religious groups use religion to legitimise the authority of majority institutions. This can lead to a new configuration of civil rule that favours some groups over others. Alternatively, religious movements provide a means for stigmatised groups to rise up against the status quo. The so-called “Arab Spring” exemplifies this case. Finally, religion can be a type of “project identity,” which challenges cultural authority. If it gathers momentum, the example of Moral Monday in North Carolina might fit into this latter group.

The sociology of religion provides a nuanced understanding of the civil role of religious institutions. This includes the internal contradictions within religious organisations, as well as their support and challenge to other social institutions, including the social welfare state and political processes.

Learn more

Watch Peter Berger discuss religion and modernity below.

For further resources, try: Peter Berger’s classic and accessible text, The Sacred Canopy; Gary Bouma’s book on the changing role of religious institutions, Australian Soul; the Sociology of Religion quarterly review; and the International Society for the Sociology of Religion (in English or French).

A new sociological study finds that students who study online perceive that they have learned less in comparison to students who attend face-to-face lectures. The researchers, Kelly Bergstrand and Scott Savage, find that online students also feel they have been treated with less respect by their lecturers and they generally rate their courses more negatively. Is there an issue with the way sociology is taught specifically that does not translate well to an online environment, or is there something broader at play? Today’s post examines the skills and resources that sociology demands of students, and questions whether the training and delivery of these skills are being adequately supported by the higher education system. I also discuss the influence of larger online courses that are offered “free” to the public and how this relates to funding cuts and a push for online learning in the tertiary sector.

The findings: Dissatisfaction amongst online students

Bergstrand and Savage studied 118 sociology courses, including data drawn from 400 student evaluations. Other studies cited in this research have found that students who perceive a course to be either too difficult or too easy will tend to rate a course negatively. Similarly, the personality and “likeability” of teachers can also influence student evaluations. This suggests that students may be rating individual qualities rather than the course materials and information per se. The researchers controlled for both by comparing evaluations of the same instructors across online and face to face courses.

Bergstrand and Savage note that both face to face and online courses may present different opportunities for lecturers to excel depending on their class delivery method. It is feasible to presume that teachers who may not be as entertaining face to face may do better teaching online if they have strong writing skills; and vice versa for gregarious instructors whose mannerisms work a treat face to face but may not translate well into a virtual environment. Their findings generated some support but with little insight about why this might be the case. There was evidence that teachers who were rated poorly by students face to face had better results when they taught online; however, all online courses had poor ratings.

Online courses and the exploitation of graduate student teachers

Bergstrand and Savage note that their sample only included graduate student instructors; that is, the lecturers were postgraduate students who were also completing their Masters or PhDs. This may mean that these teachers are less experienced and might not have developed the reflexivity required to adapt their face to face methods to an online forum. The researchers note, however, that other studies find that teaching evaluations for teachers do not change much over time.

The greatest limitation of this study is one that the researchers signal early on: they do not have data comparing learning outcomes of students to their evaluations. Speaking from my experience teaching at two Australian universities, student evaluations are generally undertaken in the final week of the course, after the students have handed in their final assignments but not necessarily before they have received their final mark for that last piece of work, and generally not before their final exams and overall course grade. Students who feel they have not learned anything may (or may not) be expressing frustration that they have not received enough feedback to gauge their progress at other points in the semester. Or perhaps they are disheartened by the level of work leading up to the final essays, assignments and exams.

Nevertheless, subjective perception of course satisfaction has real world outcomes. As the researchers note, these evaluations directly impact on whether or not instructors are promoted or if they are given the opportunity obtain a tenure position. The authors caution that students may not be getting the same quality teaching in online courses, so they argue that the higher education sector needs to examine this critically.

Students who leave a course dissatisfied should be heard and universities should respond. The question is: how? With the higher education sector under pressure in many nations around the world, Australia included, universities are moving increasingly towards online delivery. The majority of undergraduate classes are taught by graduate students. More experienced academics are able to buy out their teaching, or they are concentrated in postgraduate or specialist courses. This means that it is early career researchers who are suffering most from the demands of online teaching.

In comparison to senior lecturers, graduate teachers represent a source of cheap labour. The exploitation of younger academics has been a point of contention for some time, demonstrated most loudly in the University of Sydney’s long-standing industrial dispute. (You can read Raewyn Connell’s erudite summary of the issues in her public lecture. The precarious working conditions faced by early career teachers is a central feature.)

Under the current system, the training, resources and skills available to early career academics may well be inadequate. Bergstrand and Savage argue that even when graduate teaching instructors receive some formal teaching training, this is not specifically tailored to online environments.

MOOCs

Interestingly, two high profile Australian academics have recently come out to critique Massive Open Online Courses or “MOOCs.” Sandra Peter, lecturer at the University of Sydney Business School, was a bit more neutral, arguing that large, free online courses are redefining the meaning of what constitutes a “good” education. Peter sees that MOOCs potentially challenge what we mean by “learning.” This is partly because MOOCs are not always accredited (though some big universities and corporations are involved). More problematic is the fact that most MOOCs do not demand very much from students to demonstrate their new-found knowledge or skills.

Professor Gilly Salmon, Pro Vice-Chancellor (Learning Transformations) at Swinburne University (my alma mater) likens MOOCs to vending machines. Salmon argues MOOCs treat students like consumers and that they are unconcerned with the quality of education and learning.

Some of the traditional universities are adapting to MOOCs; others may be overly critical because they see MOOcs threaten the higher education system (though Salmon says they are not real competition for universities). Yet more universities have readily adopted online courses. Both Sydney University and Swinburne and most other Australian universities I can think of have either created new online courses or transitioned old courses into an online environment. Not coincidentally, other face to face courses are being cut. Swinburne shut down an entire campus just this year, with a second campus scheduled for closure next year.

With the threat of MOOCs, and with ever-looming funding cuts, online courses seem a cheaper alternative to face to face courses. Universities can enrol more students without the barrier of distance and perhaps, it seems, with less accountability for student satisfaction and learning.

What’s the problem with sociology and online learning?

How might the findings differ in other disciplines? Could there be something unique about sociology that is better suited to face to face learning? After all, it is a discipline centrally concerned with social interaction, culture and dialogue. Sociology is probably not alone in the issues arising in online classrooms, but we need empirical data to test the differences.

While online environments require different modes of communication, it is still a sophisticated social environment. At the same time, the way in which sociology is currently taught may not be suited to online environments as they currently stand – under resourced and with learning outcomes poorly understood. Sociology requires a high degree of reading, writing but also critical debate. Sociology tutorials are typically structured around group work and oral debates. Again, these teaching methods are not unique to sociology nor the social sciences. So is the problem a poor fit between sociology and online learning; poor training on offer to educators; or is the issue online delivery in general?

While there is diversity in the content and course structure of face to face sociology courses, the delivery and broad teaching aims are more or less similar. Sociology teaches students to participate in informed debate about societies. It demands strong oral and written communication skills as well as demonstration of critical thinking. These skills are in high demands in many industries. As technologies change, these skills will have to keep adapting. The issue is that there seems to be a disconnect between sociology, online learning and student satisfaction. This puts sociology students at a double disadvantage. First, they leave university feeling like they received a poor education. Second, they did not receive adequate support to help them learn and apply sociological thinking through technology.

Moving forward

Online courses are a new and developing phenomena, but the methods seem to adhere more to asynchronous communication of the early Internet years. This may include handing out large volumes of course materials, pre-recording lectures and maybe hosting Q&A over email forums. These methods offer limited social engagement.

Traditional universities prefer to set up their own online learning systems. Perhaps this technology is also impeding student learning and satisfaction. Innovative teachers may use social media to manage student interaction, but this does not seem to be a standardised process. I see benefits of using Google Hangouts to improve online learning, but time will tell whether this technology and others like it will be integrated into online learning. Meanwhile, the methods for online teaching are having real-time impact on student learning – and judging by this study’s negative evaluations, this is not good.

There are major problems with online education, but there is room for improvement. What are your thoughts on Bergstrand and Savage’s findings? What are your observations of online learning versus face to face classes? Are there other factors at play which may influence online learning satisfaction? How might applied sociology improve online learning to better support the education and work outcomes of students?