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Doing sociology is not so easy as it used to be. Once upon a time-not very long ago, really-sociologists believed in the doctrine of "value free" social research. This creed served many useful functions, not the least of which was to lend an aura of legitimacy to the enterprise. It convinced most of us that we were really scientists and at the same time persuaded a fair proportion of a grateful and unsuspecting public this was so. But perhaps the most important function of this doctrine was that it saved us from having to ask a lot of difficult questions of how, in one way or another, our own value presuppositions, those of our discipline, and those of our culture affect the outcome of our work.

The convulsions which rocked our society during the 1960s also sent tremors through the discipline of sociology, and we shall probably never be the same. Sociologists are now in their most serious period of self-appraisal since the inception of the discipline. The traditional distinctions between pure and applied research have grown dim. A few among our ranks now argue for the abandonment of any effort to be "objective," contending that all knowledge, sociological or otherwise, is ultimately political rhetoric. We don't buy this viewpoint, but we do believe that the efforts of sociologists, as well as of social scientists in other disciplines, to be more self-conscious about how their own value presuppositions alter their work, are long overdue.

If sociology passed through a period of excess in its commitment to a "value free" posture, as many of us now believe, there is every reason to guard against the pendulum swing to excess in the other direction. If there is merit in trying to be explicit about our value presuppositions, there is also danger in such confessions'

providing license for abandoning the search for those elusive but empirically true relationships in the social world. The danger may be even greater for the consumers of sociological research; that is, our admission of the complexity of our task may provide added reason for consumers to reject any sociological knowledge which does not conform to their own values.

What we are, we bring to our research. Our presuppositions about social reality constitute a screen through which we filter our observations. We do not believe this means that "objective" social research is impossible. Rather, it means we need to understand the concept of objectivity in a framework more realistically reflective of the process of doing research. It also means that researchers should attempt to be honest with themselves and their readers in making known the value presuppositions impinging on the research and interpretative processes. We shall try to do this, but obviously one's own value assumptions are evasive; that which one takes for granted is not easily articulated.

The reader, then, has two awesome responsibilities. The first is careful attention so as to better understand how our value presuppositions have affected what we have done and said. In short, our values are raw data the reader must process before beginning to come to grips with the implications of this sociological inquiry.

The secondary responsibility is a serious effort to comprehend how one's own value presuppositions affect the reading and interpretation of this volume. The first task is partially a natural reaction in all interaction situations. Most of us, though, seldom fulfill the second responsibility. We typically do not question how our our values distort or block our understanding of what we see, hear, and read. Without self-conscious reflection on the biases of our own values, however, neither learning nor communication can take place. Observing, analyzing, and evaluating reality as perceived by others is the key to knowledge and intellectual growth.

There are a number of ways in which one might attempt to identify one's own value presuppositions for the benefit of an audience. One would be to write a long autobiographic essay which attempts self-analysis. Another is simply to specify one's values as they become relevant to the process of interpreting data. With the exception of a few autobiographic comments in the

paragraphs which immediately follow, we have opted for the latter. This does not always take an explicit form. That is, we don't periodically say, "STOP . . . take note, for we are now going to tell you about ourselves." Rather, we simply attempt not to hide our values when they become relevant. We are in substantial agreement with Remy De Gourmont, who wrote in his preface to Le Livre des Masques, "The only excuse a man has for writing is to write himself-to reveal to others the kind of world reflected in his individual mirror." [1]

Both of us come out of a conservative tradition of Protestantism. Through the process of our education and socialization we came to see the individual racial prejudice and structural arrangements of our society which fostered and perpetuated discrimination as morally and intellectually reprehensible. Each of us, at a fairly early age, saw an incongruity between the principles of love and brotherhood which were taught by our faith and the indifference and discrimination so often practiced by our churches and so many of those who call themselves Christians.

Neither of us has ever been closely aligned with radical social-protest groups, although we have often been sympathetic with their objectives and sometimes appreciative of their efforts. That we see our own roles as working within the "system" probably says a great deal about how we view the discipline of sociology. We see the social order as precariously held together by institutional arrangements. Apart from institutions, social order is impossible. We agree with Peter Berger when he writes, "If bureaucracy [institutions] vanished from America tomorrow, not only would our lives be thrown into immeasurable chaos, but most of us would literally die." [2] Thus we take a cautious and skeptical view toward the proposition that old institutions must be destroyed before new ones can emerge. This is not to say we stand in opposition to new institutional forms; quite the contrary. However, we most certainly part company with those who stand ready not only to abandon but to encourage the destruction of old institutions before new institutions are even on the horizon.

This component of our value presuppositions is most assuredly conservative. But we feel it important to distinguish between conservatism which is uncritical and protective of existing institutional arrangements, i.e., supportive of the status quo, and

conservatism which is grounded in suspicion of the consequences of radical alterations. While the former stands in opposition to change, the latter is deeply concerned about the process whereby change can be achieved without causing chaos.

Against our cautiousness toward change must be juxtaposed a belief that the fundamental demographic, technological, and organizational processes of human society are in the midst of a furor of change which is unprecedented in human history. Without endorsing many of the particulars of Alvin Toffler's best seller, Future Shock, we believe him to be correct when he wrote, "Western society for the past 300 years has been caught up in a firestorm of change. This storm, far from abating, now appears to be gathering force." [3]

We believe our posture of conservatism is not inconsistent with the advocacy of change, sometimes even radical change. In traditional sociological perspective, we believe social structures to

possess imposing realities which mold and shape our individual and collective destinies. It has long been the dominant posture of the church, and in very substantial measure the belief of the leadership of this nation, that the social order can only be changed in proportion to individual change. As a nation we are now becoming more sophisticated about this. How many times have we all heard the statement, "You can't legislate against prejudice"? Perhaps not, yet the experience of the past two decades has provided an abundance of evidence to prove that it is possible to change social structures which are every bit as oppressive as individual prejudice. It remains to be seen whether, in legislating against discriminatory institutional arrangements, we may have de facto "legislated" against prejudice. Our own perspective on this matter is a cautious optimism.

As we become more sophisticated in our knowledge of the importance of social structures, it is important that we also learn to develop strategies and theories to foresee the probable consequences of manipulating social structures. That is, we need to develop ways of foreseeing not only what we intend to happen, when we change a structural arrangement, but also to anticipate that which might otherwise be an unanticipated consequence. Many who should know better have misunderstood Daniel Patrick Moynihan's analysis of the community action component of the

War on Poverty as an angry diatribe by a political turncoat, Moynihan's analysis is sound: the community action structures which the government created to deal with poverty were created in such a way as "to produce a minimum of the social change its sponsors desired, and bring about a maximum increase in the opposition to such change." [4]

Our argument, for all intents and purposes, is the same. During the 1960s, church leaders in every liberal Protestant denomination in America frantically went about the business of creating structures to deal with the many issues of social injustice which bombarded our consciences. The issues were compelling, and they seemed to demand immediate action. In the process of aiding the oppressed, these same church leaders served up to their adversaries the ammunition needed to cripple or obliterate these programs.

There is no point in tallying the assets and liabilities of the churches' efforts in the many social-action programs in which they became involved. The important point is that the very large proportion of their structures, programs, and budgets have been dismantled. Discussions of regrouping, developing new strategies, and decentralizing authority are largely rhetoric. Furthermore, effective new programs and strategies are not likely to emerge until the leadership better understands what happened and why.

While a systematic assessment of the churches' involvement in social action during the 1960s is beyond the scope of this volume, we believe case studies such as we have undertaken here can illumine important issues. We have attempted to be explicit in identifying those aspects of our study which raise policy questions. Critical readers should spot additional issues. The final responsibility to ferret out the policy implications of this study rests with the leadership of America's religious institutions.