University of Virginia Library

Preface

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.

Footnotes

How the Study Came About

This study began as a supplementary evaluation of an experimental social-action congregation in Dayton, Ohio. The Congregation for Reconciliation was one of three experimental congregations created in the spring of 1968 in the Ohio Synod of the United Presbyterian Church in the U.S.A. The three congrega-

tions were created by separate actions of the Cincinnati, Cleveland, and Miami Presbyteries, but the total effort had been coordinated by members of the Synod staff. All three bore the name Congregation for Reconciliation, were charged with similar goals stemming from the specific issue of fostering racial reconciliation in their respective communities, and were to have a limited life and an absolute commitment to a nonbuilding program.

This was about the extent of their similarities. The National Missions Committees of the three Presbyteries recruited pastors with very different styles and perceptions as to the nature of the experiment, and this proved to have a significant impact on the outcome. The Cleveland Congregation, for a variety of complex reasons, never quite got off the ground. The organizing pastor resigned before the end of the designated experimental period, and the congregation folded without further efforts to hire another. It took half a year for the organizing pastor in Cincinnati to get a group together, but, once formed, the congregation wasted little time in defining and getting on with their business. They saw their goals almost exclusively as working within the structures of the Presbytery. After a three-year life, evaluated as highly successful by themselves, the congregation devoted time to an intense study of death, wrote their own obituary, and passed away.

In Dayton, the organizing pastor spent several weeks getting acquainted with the community before he made any effort to have a meeting of potential recruits. When an organizational meeting was called, the group was off and running. Their style: confrontation politics. Their first target: one of the largest corporations in Dayton. This was followed by a flurry of other action projects which quickly earned them a highly visible and controversial reputation in the city and the Presbytery. Not until strong pressures were brought . by the Presbytery did the group slow down long enough to formally organize as a congregation. This formal organization was facilitated by becoming a union church with the United Church of Christ.

In the spring of 1972, four years after the three experimental congregations had been approved, the Ohio Synod and respective presbyteries established study teams to evaluate the three congre

gations. At that time the Cleveland group was dead and the Cincinnati group was in the process of preparing its last will and testament. The Dayton group, however, had long since decided that it had no intention of yielding to any bureaucratic decision to close the books on the experiment. They had researched their legal status and were prepared, if necessary, to fight those who might resist their plans to remain a congregation.

At this point, the idea of a supplementary evaluation emerged and was envisioned to serve several purposes. First of all, the Congregation felt they deserved a more thorough evaluation than could possibly be accomplished by the Synod and Presbytery evaluation team. Many of the members of the Congregation had invested a major proportion of their time in this experiment over the previous three and a half years, and they genuinely desired the reflections of an independent outside observer. But it also seemed clear that a report from an independent evaluator might be a valuable political document in the event strong opposition emerged to their continuance as a congregation. In the event of a negative report from the Synod-Presbytery evaluation team, a favorable report could offset the "official" evaluation. If both reports were generally favorable, they would have double ammunition against adversaries. Whatever weight may have been given to the supplementary evaluation as a potential political document, some members of the Congregation saw this as added rationale for a second evaluation.

The senior author of this volume was contacted in late April 1972 by the Rev. Richard Righter, pastor of the Congregation, regarding his services as a possible outside independent evaluator. A May meeting with members of the Congregation and the Presbytery's Supplementary Evaluation Committee was scheduled. This meeting revealed significant discrepancies between the committee's list of objectives for the evaluation and our own perceptions of what was possible. Our reservations were twofold. First, we questioned the possibility of scientifically measuring the impact of the Congregation on the community with the kind of precision which seemed implicit in their articulation of the objective. Second, we questioned whether it was useful for an outsider, especially a sociologist, to attempt to evaluate the style

of the Congregation's social action from the perspective of its faithfulness to the mission of the church as revealed in biblical and theological heritage. This objective implied a desire for an affirmative answer. The Congregation obviously believed itself to be faithful to a theological rationale. If there was any doubt about this, the task was one for the members of the Congregation themselves. Moreover, an outsider who happened to agree with them would carry little weight in persuading others who questioned their legitimacy and faithfulness to theological tradition. Finally, we indicated that such a task was not within the scope of our competency.

In general, the committee members present at the May meeting accepted the legitimacy of our reservations about pursuing an evaluation with objectives which were either impossible to evaluate or of limited value to the Congregation and its sponsoring agencies. It was therefore necessary to reconceptualize the goals of the outside evaluator. We recommended, and after considerable discussion and negotiation the evaluation committee concurred, that greater benefit would accrue from an investigation of the sociological dynamics of the Congregation, with emphasis upon assessing its strengths and weaknesses vis-a-vis its own stated objectives, structure, constitution, and bylaws. Aside from the possible political benefits of an outside evaluation report, the Congregation was principally interested in strengthening its organizational structure, preserving and/or strengthening the commitment of its members, developing strategies for social action, and increasing the effectiveness of these programs. The interests of denominational officials lay in examining the Congregation as a potential model for future new congregations; thus they would want to learn all they could about what was done "right" and what might be done better in any subsequent experiments.

The initial fieldwork was conducted during June 1972. The senior author was assisted by Myer S. Reed, Jr., then a graduate student in sociology at Tulane University and presently an assistant professor at Radford College. We were also assisted by Scott Patterson, a student at Princeton Theological Seminary who was employed for the summer by the Oak Creek United Church

of Christ in Kettering, Ohio, a Dayton suburb. Mr. Patterson interviewed a randomly selected sample of half of the Presbyterian and United Church of Christ pastors in the Dayton metropolitan area. His interviewing extended into July and August. In total, we conducted about one hundred interviews with present and former members of the Congregation, clergy, business and civic leaders, and representatives of the media who had been involved in covering social-action projects of the Congregation. Our interviews with business and civic leaders on this first field trip were arranged by Ms. Joy Bickerstaff, a member of the Congregation. Our misgivings about having a member of the Congregation arrange interviews, for fear of subtle bias in selecting persons with favorable views toward the Congregation, were quickly dispelled. Conscious of this possibility, Ms. Bickerstaff had bent over backward to arrange for us to talk with people with negative views of the Congregation. Many of these interviews raised hard questions which we brought back to Righter and members of the Congregation. Not once did Righter even hesitate to open his files. Indeed, he offered us far more than we were able to read while in the field. We ended up carrying home more than a file drawer of documents, which we were then able to digest at a more leisurely pace.

Our supplementary evaluation report came slowly for two reasons. First, the senior author's move during that summer from Tulane University to the University of Virginia created the seemingly unending obligations and new duties which inevitably arise from moving and taking on a new job. Second, as we attempted to digest and integrate our data, we found ourselves asking far more questions, important ones, than we had data to answer. We made liberal use of the telephone to follow up on interviews and to seek clarification of materials from the files we had carried home. In time this sufficed to permit us to write a report for the Supplementary Evaluation Committee and the National Missions Committee of the Miami Presbytery, but it did not satisfy the desire to return and explore other issues in more depth. The idea of returning to Dayton for more field research thus emerged early.

During the academic year 1972-73, the coauthors of this

volume began a collaborative analysis of clergy data gathered some years earlier. This working relationship placed the junior author in the role of a captive audience to talk about the Dayton study. Over the year his own background and academic interests drew him closer to the project. When it came time to return to Dayton, he had been coopted into a co-investigator role and subsequently shared fully in analyzing and interpreting our body of data and in preparing this manuscript.

When we returned to Dayton in the summer of 1973, we had had a year to digest the data from the previous summer's research. Whereas our first field trip had been a whirlwind, shotgun happening, we were now in a position to follow the leads of our first trip in more depth. Interviews during the first field trip usually lasted about an hour. On the return trip, the typical interview tended to run two to four hours. All but a few of these were taped, and approximately thirty-five hours of interviews were selected for transcription and further study. This second field trip again raised new questions and opened new vistas for investigation. Perhaps most significant was the opportunity to go to Cincinnati and learn about another Congregation for Reconciliation. While our information on this Congregation is much more limited, we believe it provides invaluable comparative data. Other leads, for reasons of time and financial resources, could not be followed.