Morality and Society Series - Böcker

Even in the midst of an economic boom, most Americans would agree that civic institutions are hard pressed and that they are growing ever more cynical and disconnected from one another. In response to this bleak assessment, advocates of "civil society" argue that rejuvenating neighborhoods, churches and community associations will lead to a more moral, civic-minded polity. Christopher Beem argues that while the movement's goals are laudable, simply restoring local institutions will not solve the problem; a civil society also needs politics and government to provide a sense of shared values and ideas. Tracing the concept back to Tocqueville and Hegel, Beem shows that both thinkers faced similar problems and both rejected civil society as the sole solution. He then shows how, in the case of the Civil Rights movement, both political groups and the federal government were necessary to effect a new consensus on race. Taking up the arguments of Robert Putnam, Michael Sandel and others, this book calls for a more developed sense of what the state is for and what American politics ought to be about.

Even in the midst of an economic boom, most Americans would agree that civic institutions are hard pressed and that they are growing ever more cynical and disconnected from one another. In response to this bleak assessment, advocates of "civil society" argue that rejuvenating neighborhoods, churches and community associations will lead to a more moral, civic-minded polity. Christopher Beem argues that while the movement's goals are laudable, simply restoring local institutions will not solve the problem; a civil society also needs politics and government to provide a sense of shared values and ideas. Tracing the concept back to Tocqueville and Hegel, Beem shows that both thinkers faced similar problems and both rejected civil society as the sole solution. He then shows how, in the case of the Civil Rights movement, both political groups and the federal government were necessary to effect a new consensus on race. Taking up the arguments of Robert Putnam, Michael Sandel and others, this book calls for a more developed sense of what the state is for and what American politics ought to be about.

In Childerley, a small village two hours from London, stockbrokers and stock-keepers live side by side in thatched cottages, converted barns and modern homes. Why do these villagers find country living so compelling? Why, despite our urban lives, do so many of us strive for a home in the country, closer to nature? Michael Bell suggests that we are looking for a natural conscience: an unshakeable source of identity and moral value that is free from social interests - comfort and solace and a grounding of self in a world of conflict and change. During his interviews with over 100 of Childerley's 475 residents - both working-class and professional - Bell heard time and again of their desire to be "country people" and of their anxiety over their class identities. Even though they often knowingly participate in class discrimination themselves - and see their neighbours doing the same - most Childerleyans feel a deep moral ambivalence over class.Bell argues they find in class and its conflicts the restraints and workings of social interests and feel that by living "close to nature" they have an alternative: the identity of a "country person," a "villager that the natural consicence gives." Yet there are clear parallels between the ways in which the villagers conceive of nature and of social life, and Bell traces these parallels across Childerleyans' perspectives on class, gender and politics. Where conventional theories would suggest that what the villagers see as nature is a reflection of how they see society, and that the natural conscience must be a product of social interests, Bell argues that ideological processes are more complex. Childerleyans' understandings of society and of the natural conscience shape each other, says Bell, through a largely intuitive process he calls resonance. This book should be of interest to anyone who has ever lived in the countryside or considered doing so. It should also be of particular interest to scholars of British studies and the sociology of knowledge and culture, and to those who work on problems of environment, community, class and rural life.

In Childerley, a small village two hours from London, stockbrokers and stock-keepers live side by side in thatched cottages, converted barns and modern homes. Why do these villagers find country living so compelling? Why, despite our urban lives, do so many of us strive for a home in the country, closer to nature? Michael Bell suggests that we are looking for a natural conscience: an unshakeable source of identity and moral value that is free from social interests - comfort and solace and a grounding of self in a world of conflict and change. During his interviews with over 100 of Childerley's 475 residents - both working-class and professional - Bell heard time and again of their desire to be "country people" and of their anxiety over their class identities. Even though they often knowingly participate in class discrimination themselves - and see their neighbours doing the same - most Childerleyans feel a deep moral ambivalence over class.Bell argues they find in class and its conflicts the restraints and workings of social interests and feel that by living "close to nature" they have an alternative: the identity of a "country person," a "villager that the natural conscience gives." Yet there are clear parallels between the ways in which the villagers conceive of nature and of social life, and Bell traces these parallels across Childerleyans' perspectives on class, gender and politics. Where conventional theories would suggest that what the villagers see as nature is a reflection of how they see society, and that the natural conscience must be a product of social interests, Bell argues that ideological processes are more complex. Childerleyans' understandings of society and of the natural conscience shape each other, says Bell, through a largely intuitive process he calls resonance. This book should be of interest to anyone who has ever lived in the countryside or considered doing so. It should also be of particular interest to scholars of British studies and the sociology of knowledge and culture, and to those who work on problems of environment, community, class and rural life.

Filled with vivid storytelling and rich theoretical insights, "Heaven's Kitchen" shows faith as a living practice, reshaping our understanding of the role of religion in contemporary American life.

How do people practice religion in their everyday lives? How do our daily encounters with people who hold different religious beliefs shape the way we understand our own moral and spiritual selves? In Heaven's Kitchen, Courtney Bender takes a highly original approach to answering these questions. For more than a year she worked in New York City as a volunteer for a nonprofit, nonreligious organization called God's Love We Deliver, helping to prepare home-cooked meals for people with AIDS. Paying close attention to what was said and not said, Bender traces how the volunteers gave voice to their moral positions and religious values. She also examines how they invested their conversations, and mundane activities such as cooking, with personal meaning that in turn affected how they saw their own spiritual lives. Filled with vibrant storytelling and rich theoretical insights, Heaven's Kitchen shows faith as a living practice, reshaping our understanding of the role of religion in contemporary American life.

Theravada is one of the three main branches of Buddhism. In Asia it is practiced widely in Thailand, Laos, Burma, Sri Lanka, and Cambodia. This fascinating ethnography opens a window onto two communities of Theravada Buddhists in contemporary America: one outside Philadelphia that is composed largely of Thai immigrants and one outside Boston that consists mainly of white converts.Wendy Cadge first provides a historical overview of Theravada Buddhism and considers its specific origins here in the United States. She then brings her findings to bear on issues of personal identity, immigration, cultural assimilation, and the nature of religion in everyday life. Her work is the first systematic comparison of the ways in which immigrant and convert Buddhists understand, practice, and adapt the Buddhist tradition in America. The men and women whom Cadge meets and observes speak directly to us in this work, both in their personal testimonials and as they meditate, pray, and practice Buddhism.Creative and insightful, Heartwood will be of enormous value to sociologists of religion and anyone wishing to understand the rise of Buddhism in the Western world.

Documenting the real world of the contemporary hospital, its nurses, and their moral and ethical crises, this work analyzes the forces that shape moral decisions in hospitals. Based on more than ten years of field research, "Beyond Caring" contains eyewitness accounts and personal stories demonstrating how nurses turn the unusual into the routine. It shows how patients - many weak and helpless - often become objects of the bureaucratic machinery of the health-care system and how ethics decisions have become the setting for political turf battles between occupational interest groups. The result is a combination of realism and a theoretical argument about moral life in large organizations.

Carlos A. Forment's aim in this highly ambitious work is to write the book that Tocqueville would have written had he traveled to Latin America instead of the United States. Forment pores over countless newspapers, partisan pamphlets, tabloids, journals, private letters, and travelogues to show in this study how citizens of Latin America established strong democratic traditions in their countries through the practice of democracy in their everyday lives. This first volume of Democracy in Latin America considers the development of democratic life in Mexico and Peru from independence to the late 1890s. Forment traces the emergence of hundreds of political, economic, and civic associations run by citizens in both nations and shows how these organizations became models of and for democracy in the face of dictatorship and immense economic hardship. His is the first book to show the presence in Latin America of civic democracy, something that gave men and women in that region an alternative to market-and state-centered forms of life.

Wild parties, late nights, and lots of sex, drugs, and alcohol. Many assume these are the things that define an American teenager's first year after high school. But the reality is quite different. As Tim Clydesdale reports in "The First Year Out", teenagers generally manage the increased responsibilities of everyday life immediately after graduation effectively. But, like many good things, this comes at a cost. Tracking the daily lives of fifty young people making the transition to life after high school, Clydesdale reveals how teens settle into controlled patterns of substance use and sexual activity; how they meet the requirements of postsecondary education; and how they cope with new financial expectations. Most of them, we learn, handle the changes well because they make a priority of everyday life. But Clydesdale finds that teens also stow away their identities - religious, racial, political, or otherwise - during this period in exchange for acceptance into mainstream culture.This results in the absence of a long-range purpose for their lives and imposes limits on their desire to understand national politics and global issues, sometimes even affecting the ability to reconstruct their lives when tragedies occur. "The First Year Out" is an invaluable resource for anyone caught up in the storm and stress of working with these young adults.

Wild parties, late nights, and lots of sex, drugs, and alcohol. Many assume these are the things that define an American teenager's first year after high school. But the reality is quite different. As Tim Clydesdale reports in "The First Year Out", teenagers generally manage the increased responsibilities of everyday life immediately after graduation effectively. But, like many good things, this comes at a cost. Tracking the daily lives of fifty young people making the transition to life after high school, Clydesdale reveals how teens settle into controlled patterns of substance use and sexual activity; how they meet the requirements of postsecondary education; and how they cope with new financial expectations. Most of them, we learn, handle the changes well because they make a priority of everyday life. But Clydesdale finds that teens also stow away their identities - religious, racial, political, or otherwise - during this period in exchange for acceptance into mainstream culture.This results in the absence of a long-range purpose for their lives and imposes limits on their desire to understand national politics and global issues, sometimes even affecting the ability to reconstruct their lives when tragedies occur. "The First Year Out" is an invaluable resource for anyone caught up in the storm and stress of working with these young adults.

Donald Downs offers an analysis of the injustices behind the logic of battered woman syndrome, concluding that this very logic harms those it is trying to protect. The text argues that battered women often adopt heroic means of survival, retaining accurate, reasoned perceptions concerning the actions and intentions of their abusers, and to portray battered women as lacking reason and will undermines otherwise valid self-defence claims and hurts women more generally. Also explored in the work is the "Syndrome Society" more generally. The author asserts that justice can be achieved without stripping victims of reason and reponsibility - the very attributes that make citizenship possible.

This volume tells the story of what the 1988 closing of the Chrysler assembly plant in Kenosha, Wisconsin, meant to the people who lived in that company town. Since the early days of the 20th century, Kenosha had forged its identity and politics around the interests of the auto industry. When nearly 6000 workers lost their jobs in the shutdown, the community faced not only a serious economic crisis but also a profound moral one. In this study, Dudley describes the painful, often confusing process of change that residents of Kenosha, like the increasing number of Americans who are caught in the crossfire of de-industrialization, were forced to undergo. Through interviews with displaced autoworkers and Kenosha's community leaders, high-school counsellors and a rising class of upwardly mobile professionals, Dudley dramatizes the lessons Kenoshans drew from the plant shutdown.

This volume tells the story of what the 1988 closing of the Chrysler assembly plant in Kenosha, Wisconsin, meant to the people who lived in that company town. Since the early days of the 20th century, Kenosha had forged its identity and politics around the interests of the auto industry. When nearly 6000 workers lost their jobs in the shutdown, the community faced not only a serious economic crisis but also a profound moral one. In this study, Dudley describes the painful, often confusing process of change that residents of Kenosha, like the increasing number of Americans who are caught in the crossfire of de-industrialization, were forced to undergo. Through interviews with displaced autoworkers and Kenosha's community leaders, high-school counsellors and a rising class of upwardly mobile professionals, Dudley dramatizes the lessons Kenoshans drew from the plant shutdown.

Why do people keep fighting for social causes in the face of consistent failure? Why do they risk their physical, emotional, and financial safety on behalf of strangers? How do these groups survive high turnover and emotional burnout? To explore these questions, Erika Summers Effler undertook three years of ethnographic fieldwork with two groups: the anti - death penalty activists STOP and Catholic Workers, who strive to alleviate poverty. In both communities, members must contend with problems that range from the broad to the intimately personal. Adverse political conditions, internal conflict, and fluctuations in financial resources create a backdrop of daily frustration - but watching an addict relapse or an inmate's execution are much more devastating setbacks. Summers Effler finds that overcoming these obstacles, recovering from failure, and maintaining the integrity of the group require a constant process of emotional fine-tuning, and she demonstrates how activists do this through thoughtful analysis and a lucid rendering of their deeply affecting stories.

Technology evolves at a dazzling speed, and nowhere more so than in the field of genetic engineering, where the possibility of directly changing the genes of one's children is quickly becoming a reality. The public is rightly concerned, but interestingly, they have not had much to say about the implications of recent advancements in human genetics. Playing God? asks why and explores the social forces that have led to the thinning out of public debate over human genetic engineering. John H. Evans contends that the problem lies in the structure of the debate itself. Disputes over human genetic engineering concern the means for achieving assumed ends, rather than being a healthy discussion about the ends themselves. According to Evans, this change in focus occurred as the jurisdiction over the debate shifted from scientists to bioethicists, a change which itself was caused by the rise of the bureaucratic state as the authority in such matters. The implications of this timely study are twofold. Evans not only explores how decisions about the ethics of human genetic engineering are made, but also shows how the structure of the debate has led to the technological choices we now face.

Technology evolves at a dazzling speed, and nowhere more so than in the field of genetic engineering, where the possibility of directly changing the genes of one's children is quickly becoming a reality. The public is rightly concerned, but interestingly, they have not had much to say about the implications of recent advancements in human genetics. Playing God? asks why and explores the social forces that have led to the thinning out of public debate over human genetic engineering. John H. Evans contends that the problem lies in the structure of the debate itself. Disputes over human genetic engineering concern the means for achieving assumed ends, rather than being a healthy discussion about the ends themselves. According to Evans, this change in focus occurred as the jurisdiction over the debate shifted from scientists to bioethicists, a change which itself was caused by the rise of the bureaucratic state as the authority in such matters. The implications of this timely study are twofold. Evans not only explores how decisions about the ethics of human genetic engineering are made, but also shows how the structure of the debate has led to the technological choices we now face.

In the Enlightenment tradition, rationality is considered well-defined, independent of context; we know what rationality is, and its meaning is constant across time and space. However, Bent Flyvbjerg argues that rationality is context-dependent and that the crucial context is determined by decision-makers' political power. Flyvbjerg takes us behind the scenes to uncover the real politics - and real rationality - of public administration and planning in an internationally acclaimed project for environmental improvement in the Danish city of Aalborg. The result is a narrative that is both concrete and general, current and timeless. Drawing on the ideas of Machiavelli, Nietzsche, Habermas, and Foucault, Flyvbjerg reads the Aalborg case as a metaphor of modernity and of modern politics. Flyvbjerg shows how power actually distorted policy deliberation over a policy aimed at, among other things, reducing auto traffic in downtown Aalborg. He demonstrates how modern "rationality" can only be an ideal when confronted with the real rationalities involved in decision-making by administrators and policy makers.Flyvbjerg then elaborates on how this problem can be avoided so that fruitful deliberation and action can occur.

This work provides a Tocquevillian account of democracy in Latin America. Drawing on a wealth of archival research, Carlos A. Forment demonstrates how citizens of Latin America established strong democratic traditions in their countries through the practice of democracy in their everyday lives. This volume compares and contrasts the development of democratic life in Mexico and Peru from independence to the late 1890s. Forment traces the emergence of hundreds of political, economic and civic associations run by citizens in both nations and shows how these organizations became models of democracy in the face of dictatorship and immense economic hardship. This democratic tradition was stronger in Mexico than in Peru, but its basic outlines were similar in both nations and included a unique form of what Forment calls civic Catholicism in order to distinguish itself from civic republicanism, the dominant political model throughout the rest of the Western world. Highly innovative and extensively researched, this study should rewrite the history of democracy in Latin America.

Research physicians face intractable dilemmas when they consider introducing new medical procedures. Innovations carry the promise of preventing or curing life-threatening diseases, but they can also lead to injury or even death. How have clinical scientists made high-stakes decisions about undertaking human tests of new medical treatments? In Lesser Harms, Sydney Halpern explores this issue as she examines vaccine trials in America during the early and mid-twentieth century.Today's scientists follow federal guidelines for research on human subjects developed during the 1960s and 1970s. But long before these government regulations, medical investigators observed informal rules when conducting human research. They insisted that the dangers of natural disease should outweigh the risks of a medical intervention, and they struggled to accurately assess the relative hazards. Halpern explores this logic of risk in immunization controversies extending as far back as the eighteenth century. Then, focusing on the period between 1930 and 1960, she shows how research physicians and their sponsors debated the moral quandaries involved in moving vaccine use from the laboratory to the clinic.This probing work vividly describes the efforts of clinical investigators to balance the benefits and dangers of untested vaccines, to respond to popular sentiment about medical hazards, and to strategically present risk laden research to sponsors and the public. “Concise and extremely well-written. . . . A fascinating synthesis of sociology, history, and institutional theory.”—Samuel C. Blackman, Journal of the American Medical Association

Research physicians face intractable dilemmas when they consider introducing new medical procedures. Innovations carry the promise of preventing or curing life-threatening diseases, but they can also lead to injury or even death. How have clinical scientists made high-stakes decisions about undertaking human tests of new medical treatments? In Lesser Harms, Sydney Halpern explores this issue as she examines vaccine trials in America during the early and mid-twentieth century.Today's scientists follow federal guidelines for research on human subjects developed during the 1960s and 1970s. But long before these government regulations, medical investigators observed informal rules when conducting human research. They insisted that the dangers of natural disease should outweigh the risks of a medical intervention, and they struggled to accurately assess the relative hazards. Halpern explores this logic of risk in immunization controversies extending as far back as the eighteenth century. Then, focusing on the period between 1930 and 1960, she shows how research physicians and their sponsors debated the moral quandaries involved in moving vaccine use from the laboratory to the clinic.This probing work vividly describes the efforts of clinical investigators to balance the benefits and dangers of untested vaccines, to respond to popular sentiment about medical hazards, and to strategically present risk laden research to sponsors and the public. “Concise and extremely well-written. . . . A fascinating synthesis of sociology, history, and institutional theory.”—Samuel C. Blackman, Journal of the American Medical Association

Despite there having been no significant move to the right in recent years in public political opinion, conservatives have fared much better than progressives. This text explores the reasons for this pattern through examination of case studies of grassroots movements. The book focuses particularly on the economic justice work carried on by congregation-based community organizing and the pursuit of human rights by local members of Amnesty International. The author shows how such groups develop distinctive ways of talking about politics and create characteristic stories, ceremonies and practices.

This study examines the organization of social responsibility in the USA, in particular of critically ill newborn children. Drawing on medical records and interviews with parents and medical staff, the book investigates two neonatal intensive care units, showing the traumas of extreme medical measures, and the sufferings of infants. The accounts are by turns disturbing and heroic, as parents and staff attempt to take charge of the infants' care, redefining their roles as adults and parents, and coping with sometimes awful contingencies. Rather than treating responsibility as an ethical issue, the book focuses on how responsibility is socially produced and sustained. It questions how staff members encourage parents to take responsibility, but keep them from interfering in medical matters, and how parents encourage staff vigilance when they are novices attempting to supervise the experts. The authors conclude that it is not sufficient simply to be responsible individuals. Instead, people must learn to be responsible in an organizational world, and organizations must learn how to support responsible individuals.

Drawing on remarkably frank, in-depth interviews with 160 successful men in the United States and France, Michèle Lamont provides a rare and revealing collective portrait of the upper-middle class—the managers, professionals, entrepreneurs, and experts at the center of power in society. Her book is a subtle, textured description of how these men define the values and attitudes they consider essential in separating themselves—and their class—from everyone else.Money, Morals, and Manners is an ambitious and sophisticated attempt to illuminate the nature of social class in modern society. For all those who downplay the importance of unequal social groups, it will be a revelation. "A powerful, cogent study that will provide an elevated basis for debates in the sociology of culture for years to come."—David Gartman, American Journal of Sociology"A major accomplishment! Combining cultural analysis and comparative approach with a splendid literary style, this book significantly broadens the understanding of stratification and inequality. . . . This book will provoke debate, inspire research, and serve as a model for many years to come."—R. Granfield, Choice"This is an exceptionally fine piece of work, a splendid example of the sociologist's craft."—Lewis Coser, Boston College

How do people become activists for causes they care deeply about? Many people with similar backgrounds, for instance, fervently believe that abortion should be illegal, but only some of them join the pro-life movement. By delving into the lives and beliefs of activists and nonactivists alike, Ziad W. Munson is able to lucidly examine the differences between them.Through extensive interviews and detailed studies of pro-life organizations across the nation, Munson makes the startling discovery that many activists join up before they develop strong beliefs about abortion - in fact, some are even pro-choice prior to their mobilization. Therefore, Munson concludes, commitment to an issue is often a consequence rather than a cause of activism."The Making of Pro-life Activists" provides a compelling new model of how people become activists while also offering a penetrating analysis of the complex relationship between religion, politics, and the pro-life movement. Policy makers, activists on both sides of the issue, and anyone seeking to understand how social movements take shape will find this book essential.

Long considered the lifeblood of black urban neighborhoods, churches are thought to be dedicated to serving their surrounding communities. But Omar McRoberts's work in Four Corners, a tough Boston neighborhood containing twenty-nine congregations, reveals a very different picture. McRoberts finds, for example, that most of the churches in Four Corners are attended and run by people who do not live in the neighborhood but who worship there because of the low overhead. These churches, McRoberts argues, are communities in and of themselves, with little or no attachment to the surrounding neighborhood. They are consequently less inclined to cooperate with neighborhood revitalization or respond to the immediate needs of neighborhood residents. Streets of Glory teaches a startling lesson about the relationship between congregations and neighborhoods that will be of interest to anyone concerned with the revitalization of the inner city.

In recent years, as government agencies have encouraged faith-based organizations to help ensure social welfare, many black churches have received grants to provide services to their neighborhoods' poorest residents. This collaboration, activist churches explain, is a way of enacting their faith and helping their neighborhoods. But as Michael Leo Owens demonstrates in "God and Government in the Ghetto", this alliance also serves as a means for black clergy to reaffirm their political leadership and reposition moral authority in black civil society. Drawing on both survey data and fieldwork in New York City, Owens reveals that African American churches can use these newly forged connections with public agencies to influence policy and government responsiveness in a way that reaches beyond traditional electoral or protest politics. The churches and neighborhoods, Owens argues, can see a real benefit from that influence - but it may come at the expense of less involvement at the grassroots. Anyone with a stake in the changing strategies employed by churches as they fight for social justice will find "God and Government in the Ghetto" compelling reading.

In recent years, as government agencies have encouraged faith-based organizations to help ensure social welfare, many black churches have received grants to provide services to their neighborhoods' poorest residents. This collaboration, activist churches explain, is a way of enacting their faith and helping their neighborhoods. But as Michael Leo Owens demonstrates in "God and Government in the Ghetto", this alliance also serves as a means for black clergy to reaffirm their political leadership and reposition moral authority in black civil society. Drawing on both survey data and fieldwork in New York City, Owens reveals that African American churches can use these newly forged connections with public agencies to influence policy and government responsiveness in a way that reaches beyond traditional electoral or protest politics. The churches and neighborhoods, Owens argues, can see a real benefit from that influence - but it may come at the expense of less involvement at the grassroots. Anyone with a stake in the changing strategies employed by churches as they fight for social justice will find "God and Government in the Ghetto" compelling reading.