for Ultimate Writer

From Émile Durkheim, The Division of Labor in Society (1893)

INTRODUCTION: THE PROBLEM

[1] Although the division of labour is not of recent origin, it was only at the end of the last century that societies began to become aware of this law, to which up to then they had submitted almost unwittingly. Undoubtedly even from antiquity several thinkers had perceived its importance. Yet Adam Smith was the first to attempt to elaborate the theory of it. Moreover, it was he who first coined the term, which social science later lent to biology.

[2] Nowadays the phenomenon has become so widespread that it catches everyone’s attention. We can no longer be under any illusion about the trends in modern industry. It involves increasingly powerful mechanisms, large-scale groupings of power and capital, and consequently an extreme division of labour. Inside factories, not only are jobs demarcated, becoming extremely specialized, but each manufacture is itself a speciality entailing the existence of others. Adam Smith and John Stuart Mill persisted in hoping that agriculture at least would prove an exception to the rule, seeing in it the last refuge of small-scale ownership. Although in such a matter we must guard against generalizing unduly, nowadays it appears difficult to deny that the main branches of the agricultural industry are increasingly swept along in the general trend. Finally, commerce itself contrives ways to follow and reflect, in all their distinctive nuances, the boundless diversity of industrial undertakings. Although this evolution occurs spontaneously and unthinkingly, those economists who study its causes and evaluate its results, far from condemning such diversification or attacking it, proclaim its necessity. They perceive in it the higher law of human societies and the condition for progress.

[3] Yet the division of labour is not peculiar to economic life. We can observe its increasing influence in the most diverse sectors of society. Functions, whether political, administrative or judicial, are becoming more and more specialized. The same is true in the arts and sciences. We are far from the time when philosophy constituted the sole science. It has become fragmented into a host of special disciplines, each having its purpose, method and spirit. ‘From one half-century to another the men who have left their mark upon the sciences have become more specialized.’

MECHANICAL SOLIDARITY

[4] The totality of beliefs and sentiments common to average members of a society forms a determinate system with a life of its own. It can be termed the collective or common consciousness. Undoubtedly the substratum of this consciousness does not consist of a single organ. By definition it is diffused over society as a whole, but nonetheless possesses specific characteristics that make it a distinctive reality. In fact, it is independent of the particular conditions in which individuals find themselves. Individuals pass on, but it abides. It is the same in north and south, in large towns and in small, and in different professions. Likewise it does not change with every generation but, on the contrary, links successive generations to one another. Thus it is something totally different thing from the consciousnesses of individuals, although it has an actual existence only in individuals. It is the psychological type of society, one which has properties, conditions for existence and mode of development, just as individual types do, but in a different fashion. For this reason it has the right to be designated by a special term. It is true that the one we have employed above is not without ambiguity.

Since the terms ‘collective’ and ‘social’ are often taken as synonyms, one is inclined to believe that the collective consciousness is the entire social consciousness, that is, coterminous with the psychological life of society, whereas, particularly in higher societies, it constitutes only a very limited part of it. Those functions that are judicial, governmental, scientific or industrial — in short, all the specific functions — appertain to the psychological order, since they consist of systems of representation and action. However, they clearly lie outside the common consciousness. To avoid a confusion that has occurred it would perhaps be best to invent a technical expression which would specifically designate the sum total of social similarities. However, since the use of a new term, when it is not absolutely necessary, is not without its disadvantages, we shall retain the more generally used expression, ‘collective (or common) consciousness’, but always keeping in mind the restricted sense in which we are employing it.

[5] Thus, summing up the above analysis, we may state that an act is criminal when it offends the strong, well-defined states of the collective consciousness.

[6] This proposition, taken literally, is scarcely disputed, although usually we give it a meaning very different from the one it should have. It is taken as if it expressed, not the essential characteristics of the crime, but one of its repercussions. We well know that crime offends very general sentiments, but ones that are strongly held. But it is believed that their generality and strength spring from the criminal nature of the act, which consequently still remains wally to be defined. It is not disputed that any criminal act excites universal disapproval, but it is taken for granted this results from its criminal nature. Yet one is then hard put to it to state what is the nature of this criminality. Is it in a particularly serious form of immorality? I would concur, but this is to answer a question by posing another, by substituting one term for another. For what is immorality is precisely what we want to know — an particularly that special form of immorality which society represses by an organized system of punishment, and which constitutes criminality.

[7] Clearly it can only derive from one or several characteristics common to all varieties of crime. Now the only characteristic to satisfy that condition refers to the opposition that exists between crime of any kind and certain collective sentiments. It is thus this opposition which, far from deriving from he crime, constitutes the crime. In other words, we should not say that an act offends the common consciousness because it is criminal, but that it is criminal because it offends that consciousness. We do not condemn it because it is a crime, but it is a crime because we condemn it. As regards the intrinsic nature of these feelings, we cannot specify what that is. They have very diverse objects, so that they cannot be encompassed within a single formula. They cannot be said to relate to the vital interests of society or to a minimum of justice. All such definitions are inadequate. But by the mere fact that a sentiment, whatever may be its origin and purpose, is found in every consciousness and endowed with a certain degree of strength and precision, every act that disturbs it is a crime. Present-day psychology is increasingly turning back to Spinoza’s idea that things are good because we like them, rather than that we like them because they are good. What is primary is the tendency and disposition: pleasure and pain are only derived from this. The same holds good for social life. An act is socially evil because it is rejected by society.

[8] But, it will be contended, are there no some collective sentiments which result from pleasure and pain which society feels from contact with their ends? No doubt, but they

do not all have this origin. A great many, if not the larger part, come from other causes. Everything that leads activity to assume a definite form can give rise to habits, whence result tendencies which must be satisfied. Moreover, it is these latter tendencies which alone are truly fundamental. The others are only special forms and more determinate. Thus, to find charm in such and such an object, collective sensibility must already be constituted so as to be able to enjoy it. If the corresponding sentiments are abolished, the most harmful act to society will not only be tolerated, but even honored and proposed as an example. Pleasure is incapable of creating an impulse out of whole cloth; it can only link those sentiments which exist to such and such a particular end, provided that the end be in accord with their original nature. . . .

ORGANIC SOLIDARITY

[9] Since negative solidarity on its own brings about no integration, and since, moreover, there is nothing specific in it, we shall identify only two kinds of positive solidarity, distinguished by the following characteristics:

1 The first kind links the individual directly to society without any intermediary. With the second kind he depends upon society because he depends upon the parts that go to constitute it.

2 In the two cases, society is not views from the same perspective. In the first, the term is used to denote a more or less organized society composed of beliefs and sentiments common to all the members of the group: this is the collective type. On the contrary, in the second case the society to which we are in solidarity with is a system of different and special functions united by definite relationships. Moreover, these two societies are really. They are two facets of one and the same reality, but which none the less need to be distinguished from each other.

3 From this second difference there arises another which will serve to allow us to characterize and delineate the features of these two kinds of solidarity.

[10] The first kind can only be strong to the extent that the ideas and tendencies common to all the members of the society exceed in number and intensity those that appertain personally to each one of those members. The greater this excess, the more active this kind of society is. Now what constitutes our personality is that which each one of us possesses that is peculiar and characteristic, what distinguishes him from others. This solidarity can therefore only increase in inverse relationship to personality. As we have said, there are in the consciousness of each one of us two consciences: one that we share in common with our group in its entirety, which is consequently not ourselves, but society living and acting within us; the other, that, on the contrary, represents us alone in what is personal and distinctive about us, what makes us an individual. The solidarity that arises from similarities is at its maximum when the collective consciousness completely envelops our whole consciousness, coinciding with it at every point. At that moment our individuality is zero. That individuality cannot arise until the community fills us less completely. Here there are two opposing forces, the one centripetal, the other centrifugal, which cannot increase at the same time. We cannot ourselves develop simultaneously in two so opposing directions. If we have a strong inclination to think and act for ourselves, we cannot be strongly inclined to think and act like other people. If the ideal is to create for ourselves a special, personal image, this cannot mean to be like everyone else. Moreover, at the very moment when this solidarity exerts its effect, our personality, it may be said by definition, disappears, for we are no longer ourselves, but a collective being.

[11] The social molecules that can only cohere in this one manner cannot move as a unit save in so far as they lack any movement of their own, as do the molecules of inorganic bodies. This is why we suggest that this kind of solidarity should be called mechanical. The word does not mean that the solidarity is produced by mechanical and artificial means. We only use this term for it by analogy with the cohesion that links together the elements of mineral bodies, in contrast to that which encompasses the unity of animal bodies. What finally justifies the use of this term is the fact that the bond that thus unites the individual with society is

completely analogous to that which links the thing to the person. The individual consciousness, considered from this viewpoint, is simply a dependency of the collective type, and follows all of its motions, just as the object possessed follows which its owner imposes upon it. In societies where this solidarity is highly developed the individual, as we shall see later, does not belong to himself; he is literally a thing at the disposal of society. Thus, in these same social types, personal rights are still not yet distinguished from ‘real’ rights.

[12] The situation is entirely different in the case of solidarity that brings about the division of labour. Whereas the other solidarity implies that individuals resemble one another, the latter assumes that they are different from one another. The former type is only possible in so far as the individual personality is absorbed into the collective personality; the latter is only possible if each one of us has a sphere of action that is peculiarly our own, and consequently a personality. Thus the collective consciousness must leave uncovered a part of the individual consciousness, so that there may be established in it those special functions that it cannot regulate. The more extensive this free area is, the stronger the cohesion that arises from this solidarity. Indeed, on the one hand, each one of us depends more intimately upon society the more labour is divided up, and on the other, the activity of each one of us is correspondingly more specialized, the personal it is. Doubtless, however circumscribed that activity may be, it is never completely original. Even in the exercise of our own profession we conform to usages and practices that are common to us all within our corporation. Yet even in this case, the burden that we bear is in a different way less heavy than when the whole of society bears down upon us, and this leaves much more room for the free play of our initiative. Here, then, the individuality of the whole grows at the same time as that of the parts. Society becomes more effective in moving in concert, at the same time as each of its elements has more movements that are peculiarly its own. This solidarity resembles that observed in the higher animals. This is because each organ has its own special characteristics and autonomy, yet the greater the unity of the

organism, the more marked the individualization of the parts. Using this analogy, we propose to call ‘organic’ the solidarity that is due to the division of labour.

THE CAUSES

[13] We can then formulate the following proposition:

The division of labour varies in direct proportion to the volume and density of societies and if it progresses in a continuous manner over the course of social development it is because societies become regularly more dense and generally more voluminous.

[14] At all times, it is true, it has been clearly understood that there was a relationship between these two orders of facts. This is because, for functions to specialize even more, there must be additional cooperating elements, which must be grouped close enough together to be able to co-operate. Yet in societies in this condition we usually see hardly more than the means by which the division of labour is developed, and not the cause of this development. The cause is made to depend upon individual aspirations toward wellbeing and happiness, which can be the better satisfied when societies are more extensive and more condensed. The law we have just established is completely different. We state, not that the growth and condensation of societies permit a greater division of labour, but that they necessitate it. It is not the instrument whereby that division is brought about; but it is its determining cause.

CONCLUSION

[15] Thus society is not, as has often been believed, some happening that is a stranger to morality, or which has only secondary repercussions upon it. It is not a mere juxtaposition of individuals who, upon entering into it, bring with them an intrinsic morality. Man is only a moral being because he lives in society, since morality consists in solidarity with the group, and varies according to that solidarity. Cause all social life to vanish, and moral life would vanish at the same time, having no object to cling to. The state of nature of the eighteenth-century

philosophes is, if not immoral, at least amoral, a fact that Rousseau himself recognized. For that reason, moreover, we do not fall back upon the formula that expresses morality as a function of social interest. Doubtless society cannot exist if its parts are not interdependent, but solidarity is only one of the conditions for its existence. There are many others no less necessary, which are not moral. Moreover, it can be that, within this network of the ties that go to make up morality, there are some that are not useful in themselves, or whose strength bears no relationship to their degree of usefulness. The idea of the useful does not therefore come into our definition as an essential element of it.

[16] As for what is termed individual morality, if by this is meant a set of duties in relation to which the individual would be both subject and object, which would bind him only to himself and would consequently subsist even if he were alone, this is an abstract conception that has no foundation in reality. Morality, at all levels, is never met with save in the state of society and has never varied save as a function of social conditions. Thus to ask what morality might become if societies did not exist is to depart from the facts and to enter the realm of gratuitous speculation and unverifiable fantasy. In reality the duties of the individual to himself are duties to society. They correspond to certain collective sentiments which it is no more permissible to offend when the offended person and the offender are one and the same person than when they are two distinct individuals. For example, today there is in every healthy consciousness a very active feeling of respect for human dignity, to which we are obliged to make our behaviour conform both in our relationship with ourselves and in our relationship with others – this is indeed all that is essential in the kind of morality termed individual. Any action that offends it is blamed, even when the doer and the sufferer of the offence are one and the same person. This is why, in Kant’s formula, we must respect human personality wherever we meet it, that is, within ourselves and within our fellow-creatures. This is because the sentiment of which it is the object is no less offended in the one case than in the other.

[17] Not only does the division of labour exhibit that character by which we define morality, but it increasingly tends to become the essential condition for social

solidarity. As evolution advances, the bonds that attach the individual to his family, to his native heath, to the traditions that the past has bequeathed him, to the collective practices of the group – all these become loosened. Being more mobile, the individual changes his environment more easily, leaves his own people to go and live a more autonomous life elsewhere, works out for himself his ideas and sentiments. Doubtless all trace of common consciousness does not vanish because of this. At the very least there will always subsist that cult of the person and individual dignity about which we have just spoken, which today is already the unique rallying point for so many minds. But how insignificant this is if we consider the ever-increasing scope of social life and, consequently, of the individual consciousness! As the latter becomes more expansive, as the intelligence becomes even better equipped, and activity more varied, for morality to remain unchanged, that is, for the individual to be bound to the group even as strongly as once he was, the ties that bind him must become stronger and more numerous. Thus if the only ties that were forged were based on similarities, the disappearance of the segmentary type of society would be accompanied by a steady decline in morality. Man would no longer be adequately controlled. He would no longer feel around him and above him that salutary pressure of society that moderates his egoism, making of him a moral creature. This it is that constitutes the moral value of the division of labour. This is because through it the individual is once more made aware of his dependent state vis-à-vis society. It is from society that the forces holding him in check proceed, keeping him within bounds. In short, since the division of labour becomes the predominant source of social solidarity, it becomes at the same time the foundation of the moral order.

[18] We may thus state literally that in higher societies our duty lies not in extending the range of our activity but in concentrating it, in making it more specialized. We must limit our horizons, select a definite task, and immerse ourselves utterly, instead of making ourselves, so to speak, a finished work of art, one that derives all its value from itself rather than from the services it renders. Finally, this specialization must be carried the farther the more society is of a higher species.

No other limits can be placed upon it. Undoubtedly we must also work towards realizing within ourselves the collective type, in so far as it exists. There are common sentiments and ideas without which, as one says, one is not a man. The rule prescribing that we should specialize remains limited by the opposite rule. We do not conclude that it is good to push specialization as far as possible, but only as far as necessary. The weight to be given to these two opposing necessities is determined by experience and cannot be calculated a priori. It suffices for us to have shown that the latter is no different in nature from the former, but that it is also moral and that, moreover, this duty becomes ever more important and urgent, because the general qualities we have discussed suffice less and less to socialize the individual.

[19] Thus it is not without reason that public sentiment is continually distancing itself even more markedly from the dilettante, and even from those who, too much absorbed with a culture that is exclusively general, shrink from allowing themselves to be wholly caught up with the professional organization. This is in fact because they do not adhere closely enough to society or, if one likes, society does not have a sufficient hold over them. They elude it, and precisely because they do not feel it with the sense of vividness and continuity that it requires, they are unaware of all the obligations laid upon them by their condition as social beings. The general idea to which they are attached being, for reasons we have given, both formal and fluctuating, it cannot draw them very much outside themselves. Without a determinate goal there is not very much to prize, so that one can scarcely lift oneself out of a more or less refined egoism. On the other hand, he who has dedicated himself to a definite task is reminded at every moment of the common sentiment of solidarity through the thousand and one duties of professional morality.

II

[20] Yet does not the division of labour, by rendering each one of us an incomplete being, entail some curtailment of the individual personality? This criticism has often been made.

[21] Firstly, let us note that it is difficult to see why it might be more in accord with the logic of human nature to develop more superficially rather than in depth. Why should a more extensive activity, one that is more dispersed, be superior to one more concentrated and circumscribed? Why should more dignity attach to being complete and mediocre than to leading a more specialized kind of life but one that is more intense, particularly if we can thus recapture what we have lost through our association with others who possess what we lack and who make us complete beings? We start from the principle that man must realize his nature as man – as Aristotle said, accomplish his oikeion ergon [proper or highest practical purpose]. But at different moments in history this nature does not remain consistent; it is modified with societies. Among lower peoples, the act that connotes a man is to resemble his fellows, to realize within himself all the characteristics of the collective type which, even more than today, was then confused with the human type. In more advanced societies man’s nature is mainly to be a part of society; consequently the act that connotes a man is for him to play his part as one organ of society.

[22] There is something more: far from the progress of specialization whittling away the individual personality, this develops with the division of labour. Indeed to be a person means to be an autonomous source of action. Thus man only attains this state to the degree that there is something within him that is his and his alone, that makes him an individual, whereby he is more than the mere embodiment of the generic type of his race and group. It will in any case be objected that he is endowed with free will, and that this is a sufficient basis for his personality. But whatever this freedom may consist of – and it is the subject of much argument – it is not this impersonal, invariable, metaphysical attribute that can serve as the sole basis for the empirical, variable and concrete personality of individuals. That personality cannot be formed by the entirely abstract capacity to choose between two opposites. Yet this faculty must also be exercised in relation to ends and motives that are peculiar to the person acting. In other words the stuff of which his consciousness is made up must have a personal character. Now as we have seen in the second book of this study, that is

an outcome that occurs progressively as the division of labour itself progresses. The disappearance of the segmentary type of society, at the same time as necessitating greater specialization, frees the individual consciousness in part from the organic environment that supports it, as it does from the social environment that envelops it. This dual emancipation renders the individual more independent in his own behaviour. The division of labour itself contributes to this liberating effect. Individual natures become more complex through specializing; by this very fact they are partly shielded against the effects of the collectivity and the influences of heredity, which can scarcely enforce themselves except in simple, general matters.

[23] Thus it was a genuine illusion that could lead one to think that a personality impervious to the division of labour could have greater integrity. Doubtless, if the various occupations that the individual embarks upon are viewed from the outside, it may seem that the personality then develops more freely and completely. But in reality the activity he displays is not his own. It is society, it is the race, which act in and through him; he is only the intermediary through which they are realized. His liberty is only apparent, his personality is borrowed. Since the life of societies is in certain respects less regular, we imagine that original talents can more easily come to light, that it is easier for each individual to follow his own tastes and that greater scope is allowed for the free play of fantasy. Yet this is to forget that personal sentiments are very rare then. If the motives governing conduct do not occur with the same regularity as they do today, they do not cease to be collective, and consequently impersonal. The same is true for the actions they inspire. We have moreover shown above how, with greater specialization, the activity becomes richer and more intense.

[24] Thus the advance of the individual personality and that of the division of labour are dependent on one and the same cause. Thus also it is impossible to will the one without willing the other. Nowadays no one questions the obligatory nature of the rule that ordains that we should exist as a person, and this increasingly so.

[25] One final consideration will show to what extent the division of labour is linked to our whole moral life.

[26] It has long been a dream cherished by men to succeed at last in achieving as a reality the ideal of human brotherhood. Peoples raise their voices to wish for a state of affairs where war would no longer govern international relations, where relationships between societies would be regulated peacefully as those between individuals already are, and where all men would co-operate in the common task and live the same life. Although these aspirations are partly neutralized by others that relate to the particular society of which we form part, they remain very strong and are continually gathering strength. However, they cannot be satisfied unless all men form part of one and the same society, subject to the same laws. For, just as private conflicts can only be contained by the regulatory action of a society that embraces all individuals, so inter-social conflicts can only be contained by the regulatory action of a society that embraces all societies. The only power that can serve to moderate individual egoism is that of the group; the only one that can serve to moderate the egoism of groups is that of another group that embraces them all.

[27] Really, once the problem has been posed in these terms, we must acknowledge that this ideal is not on the verge of being realized in its entirety. Between the different types of society coexisting on earth there are too many intellectual and moral divergences to be able to live in a spirit of brotherhood in the same society. Yet what is possible is that societies of the same species should come together, and it is indeed in this direction that our society appears to be going. We have seen already that there is tending to form, above European peoples, in a spontaneous fashion, a European society that has even now some feeling of its own identity and the beginnings of an organization. If the formation of one single human society is for ever ruled out – and this has, however, not yet been demonstrated – at least the formation of larger societies will draw us continually closer to that goal. Moreover, these facts do not at all contradict the definition we have given of morality. If we are attached to humanity and if we ought to

continue to be so, it is because it is a society in the process of realizing itself in this way, one with which we are in solidarity.

[28] Yet we know that more extensive societies cannot be formed without the development of the division of labour. Without a greater specialization of functions not only could they not sustain their equilibrium, but the increase in the number of elements in competition would also automatically suffice to bring about that state. This would be even more the case because an increase in volume does not generally occur without an increase in population density. Thus we may formulate the following proposition: the ideal of human brotherhood cannot be realized unless the division of labour progresses. We must choose: either we must abandon our dream, if we refuse to limit our individual activity any further; or we can pursue the consummation of our dream, but only on the condition just stated.

III

[29] Yet if the division of labour produces solidarity, it is not only because it makes each individual an agent of exchange, to use the language of the economists. It is because it creates between men a whole system of rights and duties joining them in a lasting way to one another. Just as social similarities give rise to a law and a morality that protect them, so the division of labour gives rise to rules ensuring peaceful and regular co-operation between the functions that have been divided up. If economists have believed that this would produce enough solidarity, however it came about, and in consequence have maintained that human societies could and should resolve themselves into purely economic associations, it is because they believed that only individual and temporary interests were at stake. Thus it is individuals alone that are competent to evaluate the interests that conflict and ascertain how they should be balanced, that is, to determine the conditions in which exchange should take place. Moreover, since these interests are continually developing, there is no room for any permanent regulatory system. But from every point of view such a conception is inadequate and does not fit the facts. The division of labour brings together not individuals,

but social functions. Society has an interest in the interplay of those functions: depending on whether they co-operate regularly or not, society will be healthy or sick. Its existence is therefore dependent upon them, all the more intimately bound up with them the more they are divided. This is why it cannot let them remain in an indeterminate state; moreover, they determine one another. It is thus that rules arise which increase in number the more labour is divided – rules whose absence makes organic solidarity either impossible or imperfect.

[30] But the mere existence of rules is not sufficient: they must also be just. For this the external conditions of competition should be equal. If, on the other hand, we call to mind that the collective consciousness is increasingly reduced to the cult of the individual, we shall see that the characteristic of morality in organized societies, as compared to segmentary societies, is that it possesses something more human, and consequently more rational, about it. It does not cause our activity to depend upon ends that do not directly concern us. It does not make us the servants of some ideal powers completely different in nature from ourselves, powers that follow their own course without heeding the interests of men. It requires us only to be charitable and just towards our fellows, to fulfil our task well, to work towards a state where everyone is called to fulfil the function he performs best and will receive a just reward for his efforts. The rules constituting this morality have no constraining power preventing their being fully examined. Because they are better made for us and, in a certain sense, by us, we are freer in relation to them. We seek to understand them and are less afraid to change them. Moreover, we must be careful not to esteem such an ideal defective on the pretext that it is too down to earth, too easily within our grasp. An ideal is not more lofty because it is more transcendent, but because it opens up broader vistas to us. It is not important that such an ideal should soar high above us – to an extent that it becomes foreign to us. But it is important that it should open up a long-term perspective for our activity – and such an ideal is far from on the point of being realized. We feel only too well how laborious a task it is to erect such a society, one in which each individual will have the place he merits and will be rewarded according to

his deserts, where everyone will consequently co-operate spontaneously both for the common good and for that of the individual. Likewise no morality is superior to all others because its imperatives are couched in a drier, more authoritarian manner, or because it is immune from reflective thinking. Doubtless it must be capable of linking us to something other than ourselves. But there is no need for it to fetter us to the point that it immobilizes us.

[31] It has been rightly stated that morality – and this must include both theory and the practice of ethics – is in the throes of an appalling crisis. What we have expounded can help us to understand the causes and nature of this sickness. Over a very short space of time very profound changes have occurred in the structure of our societies. They have liberated themselves from the segmentary model with a speed and in proportions unprecedented in history. Thus the morality corresponding to this type of society has lost influence, but without its successor developing quickly enough to occupy the space left vacant in our consciousness. Our beliefs have been disturbed. Tradition has lost its sway. Individual judgement has thrown off the yoke of the collective judgement. On the other hand, the functions that have been disrupted in this period of trial have had no time to adjust to one another. The new life that all of a sudden has arisen has not been able to organize itself thoroughly. Above all, it has not been organized so as to satisfy the need for justice that has been aroused even more passionately in our hearts. If this is so, the remedy for the ill is nevertheless not to seek to revive traditions and practices that no longer correspond to present- day social conditions, and that could only subsist in a life that would be artificial, one only of appearance. We need to put a stop to this anomie, and to find ways of harmonious co-operation between those organs that still clash discordantly together. We need to introduce greater justice into their relationships by diminishing those external inequalities that are the source of our ills. Our disease is therefore not, as occasionally we appear to believe, of an intellectual order, but linked to deeper causes. We are not suffering because we no longer know on what theoretical idea the morality we have practised up to now should be sustained. The cause is that certain elements of this morality

have been irretrievably undermined, and the morality we require is only in the process of taking shape. Our anxiety does not arise because the criticism of scientists has demolished the traditional explanation handed down to us regarding our duties. Consequently it is not a new philosophical system that will ever be capable of dispelling that anxiety. Rather is it because certain of these duties no longer being grounded on reality, a loosening of ties has occurred that can only stop when a new discipline has become established and consolidated itself. In short, our first duty at the present time is to fashion a morality for ourselves. Such a task cannot be improvised in the silence of the study. It can arise only by itself, gradually, and under the pressure of internal causes that render it necessary. What reflection can and must do is to prescribe the goal that must be attained. That is what we have striven to accomplish.

THE ANOMIC DIVISION OF LABOR

[32] For organic solidarity to exist it is not enough for there to be a system of organs necessary to one another that feel their solidarity in a general way. The manner in which they should co-operate, if not on every kind of occasion when they meet, at least in the most common circumstances, must be predetermined. Otherwise, a fresh struggle would be required each time in order to bring them into a state of equilibrium with one another, for the conditions for this equilibrium can only be found by a process of trial and error, in the course of which each party treats the other as an opponent as much as an auxiliary. Such conflicts would therefore break out continually, and in consequence solidarity would be hardly more than virtual, and the mutual obligations would have to be negotiated anew in their entirety for each individual case. It will be objected that contracts exist. But firstly, not every social relationship is capable of assuming this legal form. Moreover, we know that a contract is not sufficient in itself, but supposes a regulatory system that extends and grows more complicated just as does contractual life itself. Moreover, the ties originating in this way are always of short duration. The contract is only a truce, and a fairly precarious one at

that; it suspends hostilities only for a while. Doubtless, however precise the regulatory system may be, it will always leave room for much friction. But it is neither necessary nor even possible for social life to be without struggle. The role of solidarity is not to abolish competition but to moderate it.

[33] Moreover, in the normal state, these rules emerge automatically from the division of labour; they are, so to speak, its prolongation. Certainly if the division of labour only brought together individuals who unite for a brief space of time with a view to the exchange of personal services, it could not give rise to any regulatory process. But what it brings together are functions, that is, definite ways of acting that are repeated identically in given circumstances, since they relate to the general, unchanging conditions of social life. The relationships entertained between these functions cannot therefore fail to arrive at the same level of stability and regularity. There are certain ways of reacting upon one another which, being more in accordance with the nature of things, are repeated more often and become habits. Then the habits, as they grow in strength, are transformed into rules of conduct. The past predetermines the future. In other words, there exists a certain allocation of rights and duties that is established by usage and that ends up by becoming obligatory. Thus the rule does not set up the state of mutual dependence in which the inter-connected organs are to be found, but only serves to express it in a perceptible, definite way, as a function of a given situation.

[34] Likewise the nervous system, far from dominating the evolution of the organism, as was once believed, is a result of it. The nerve tracts are probably only the paths along which have passed the wave-like movements and stimuli exchanged between the various organs. They are the channels that life has dug for itself by always flowing in the same direction, and the ganglions would only be the place where several of these paths intersect. It is because they have failed to recognize this aspect of the phenomenon that certain moralists have charged the division of labour with not producing real solidarity. They have seen in it only individual exchanges, ephemeral combinations, without a past, just as they also have no tomorrow, in which the individual is abandoned to his own

devices. They have not perceived that slow task of consolidation, that network of ties that gradually becomes woven of its own accord and that makes organic solidarity something that is permanent.

[…]

[35] What is certain is that [a] lack of regulation does not allow the functions to be performed regularly and harmoniously. The economists show, it is true, that harmony is re-established of its own accord when necessary, thanks to the increase or decrease in prices, which, according to the need, stimulates or slows production. But in any case it is not re-established in this way until after breaks in equilibrium and more or less prolonged disturbances have occurred. Moreover, such disturbances are naturally all the more frequent the more specialized the functions, for the more complex an organization is, the more the necessity for extensive regulation is felt. . . . If the division of labour does not produce solidarity it is because the relationships between the organs are not regulated; it is because they are in a state of anomie.

[36] But where does this state spring from?

[37] Since a body of rules is the definite form taken over time by the relationships established spontaneously between the social functions, we may say a priori that a state of anomie is impossible wherever organs in solidarity with one another are in sufficient contact, and in sufficiently lengthy contact. Indeed, being adjacent to one another, they are easily alerted in every situation to the need for one another and consequently they experience a keen, continuous feeling of their mutual dependence. For the same reason, exchanges between them occur easily; being regular, they occur frequently; they regulate themselves and time gradually effects the task of consolidation. Finally, because the slightest reaction can be felt throughout, the rules formed in this way bear the mark of it, that is, they foresee and fix in some detail the conditions of equilibrium. Yet if, on the other hand, some blocking environment is interposed between them, only stimuli of a certain intensity can communicate from one organ to another. Contacts being rare, they are not repeated often enough to take on a

determinate form. Each time the procedure is again one of trial and error. The paths along which the wave-like movements pass can no longer become definite channels because the waves themselves are too intermittent. If at least some rules are successfully constituted, these are general and vague, for in these conditions only the most general outlines of the phenomena can be fixed. The same is true of closeness of contact: whilst it is sufficient, it is too recent or has lasted too short a while.

[38] Very generally this condition of contiguity is realized by the nature of things. For a function cannot distribute itself between two or more parts of an organism unless these parts are more or less in contact. Moreover, once labour is divided up, as they have need of one another, they tend naturally to reduce the distance that separates them. This is why, as one rises in the animal scale, one sees organs growing closer together and, as Spencer puts it, insinuating themselves into one another’s interstices. But a coincidence of exceptional circumstances can cause it to be otherwise.

[39] This is what occurs in the cases with which we are dealing at present. So long as the segmentary type of society is strongly marked, there are roughly as many economic markets as there are different segments. In consequence, each one of them is very limited. The producers, being very close to the consumers, can easily estimate the extent of the needs that have to be satisfied. Equilibrium is therefore established without difficulty and production is regulated by itself. In contrast, as the organized type of society develops, the fusion of the various segments entails the fusion of the markets into one single market, which embraces almost all of society. It even extends beyond and tends to become universal, for the barriers between peoples are lowered at the same time as those that separate the segments within each one of them. The result is that each industry produces for consumers who are dispersed over the length and breadth of the country, or even the whole world. The contact is therefore no longer sufficient. The producer can no longer keep the whole market within his purview, not even mentally. He can no longer figure out for himself its limits, since it is, so to speak, unlimited. Consequently production lacks any check or

regulation. It can only proceed at random, and in the course of so doing it is inevitable that the yardstick is wrong, either in one way or the other. Hence the crises that periodically disturb economic functions. The increase in those local and limited crises represented by bankruptcies is likely to be an effect of the same cause.

[40] As the market becomes more extensive, large-scale industry appears. The effect of it is to transform the relationship between employers and workers. The greater fatigue occasioned to the nervous system, linked to the contagious influence of large urban areas, causes the needs of the workers to increase. Machine work replaces that of the man, manufacturing that of the small workshop. The worker is regimented, removed for the whole day from his family. He lives ever more apart from the person who employs him, etc. These new conditions of industrial life naturally require a new organization. Yet because these transformations have been accomplished with extreme rapidity the conflicting interests have not had time to strike an equilibrium.

[…]

[41] The foregoing removes all grounds for one of the gravest reproaches that has been made against the division of labour.

[42] It has often been accused of diminishing the individual by reducing him to the role of a machine. And indeed, if he is not aware of where the operations required of him are leading, if he does not link them to any aim, he can no longer perform them save out of routine. Every day he repeats the same movements with monotonous regularity, but without having any interest or understanding of them. He is no longer the living cell of a living organism, moved continually by contact with neighbouring cells, which acts upon them and responds in turn to their action, extends itself, contracts, yields and is transformed according to the needs and circumstances. He is no more than a lifeless cog, which an external force sets in motion and impels always in the same direction and in the same fashion. Plainly, no matter how one represents the moral ideal, one cannot remain indifferent to such a debasement of human

nature. If the aim of morality is individual perfection, it cannot allow the individual to be so utterly ruined, and if it has society as its end, it cannot let the very source of social life dry up. The evil not only threatens economic functions, but all the social functions, no matter how elevated these may be. ‘If,’ says Comte, ‘we have often rightly deplored on the material plane the fact of the worker exclusively occupied throughout his life in making knife handles or pinheads, a healthy philosophy must not, all in all, cause us to regret any the less on the intellectual plane the exclusive and continual use of the human brain to resolve a few equations or classify a few insects: the moral effect, in both cases, is unfortunately very similar.’

[43] Occasionally the remedy has been proposed that besides their technical and special knowledge, workers should receive a general education. But even assuming that in this way some of the bad effects attributed to the division of labour can be redeemed, it is still not a means of preventing them. The division of labour does not change its nature because it has been preceded by a liberal education. It is undoubtedly good for the worker to be able to interest himself in artistic and literary matters, etc. But it remains none the less wrong that throughout the day he should be treated like a machine. Moreover, who can fail to see that these two types of existence are too opposing to be reconciled or to be able to be lived by the same man! If one acquires the habit of contemplating vast horizons, overall views, and fine generalizations, one can no longer without impatience allow oneself to be confined within the narrow limits of a special task. Such a remedy would therefore only make specialization inoffensive by making it intolerable, and in consequence more or less impossible.

[44] What resolves this contradiction is the fact that, contrary to what has been said, the division of labour does not produce these consequences through some imperative of its own nature, but only in exceptional and abnormal circumstances. For it to be able to develop without having so disastrous an influence on the human consciousness, there is no need to mitigate it by means of its opposite. It is necessary and sufficient for it to be itself, for nothing to come from outside to deform its nature. For normally the operation of each

special function demands that the individual should not be too closely shut up in it, but should keep in constant contact with neighbouring functions, becoming aware of their needs and the changes that take place in them, etc. The division of labour supposes that the worker, far from remaining bent over his task, does not lose sight of those co-operating with him, but acts upon them and is acted upon by them. He is not, therefore, a machine who repeats movements the sense of which he does not perceive, but he knows that they are tending in a certain direction, towards a goal that he can conceive of more or less distinctly. He feels that he is of some use. For this he has no need to take in very vast areas of the social horizon; it is enough for him to perceive enough of it to understand that his actions have a goal beyond themselves. Thenceforth, however specialized, however uniform his activity may be, it is that of an intelligent being, for he knows that his activity has a meaning. The economists would not have left this essential characteristic of the division of labour unclarified and as a result would not have lain it open to this undeserved reproach, if they had not reduced it to being only a way of increasing the efficiency of the social forces, but had seen it above all as a source of solidarity.

THE FORCED DIVISION OF LABOR

[45] However, it is not enough for rules to exist, for occasionally it is these very rules that are the cause of evil. This is what happens in the class war. The institution of classes or castes constitutes one organization of the division of labour, one that is closely regulated. Yet it is often a source of dissension. Since the lower classes are not, or are no longer, satisfied with the role that has fallen to them by custom or law, they aspire to functions that are prohibited to them and seek to dispossess those who exercise them. Hence civil wars, which arise from the way in which labour is shared out.

[46] No similar phenomenon is to be observed within the organism. Doubtless in moments of crisis its different elements war with one another, feeding at the expense of one another. But a cell or an organ never attempts to usurp any role

other than that which is rightfully its own. The reason for this being the case is that each anatomical element proceeds mechanically towards its goal. Its constitution and place in the organism determine its vocation; its task is a consequence of its nature. It can perform it badly, but it cannot assume that of another, unless the latter abandons it, as happens in the rare cases of substitution about which we have spoken. The same does not hold good for societies. Here the chance factor is greater. There is a larger gap between the hereditary tendencies of the individual and the social function he will fulfil. Hereditary tendencies do not signify with such direct necessity any set function. The field is open to trial and error and discussion, as well as to the free play of a host of causes that may make the individual nature deviate from its normal path, thus creating a pathological state. Since the organization is more flexible, it is also more delicate and amenable to change. We are certainly not predestined from birth to any particular form of employment, but we nevertheless possess tastes and aptitudes that limit our choice. If no account is taken of them, if they are constantly frustrated in our daily occupation, we suffer, and seek the means of bringing that suffering to an end. There is no solution other than to change the established order and create a new one. For the division of labour to engender solidarity, it is thus not sufficient for everyone to have his task: it must also be agreeable to him.

[47] This condition is not realized in the instance we are examining. Indeed, if the institution of class or caste sometimes gives rise to miserable squabbling instead of producing solidarity, it is because the distribution of social functions on which it rests does not correspond, or rather no longer corresponds, to the distribution of natural abilities. For, whatever may have been asserted, it is not solely the spirit of imitation that makes the lower classes end up by having ambitions for an upper-class life. To tell the truth, imitation of itself cannot even explain anything, for it supposes something other than itself. Imitation is only possible between creatures who already resemble one another, and according also to the degree of resemblance. It does not occur between different species or varieties. The same is true for moral contagion as is true for physical contagion:

it only manifests itself in fields favourable to it. For needs to spread from one class to another, the differences originally separating these classes must have disappeared or grown less. As a result of the changes that have occurred in society, one group must have become capable of carrying out functions that were originally beyond its capacity, at the same time as another group was losing its original superiority. When the plebeians began to dispute with the patricians the honour of performing religious and administrative functions, it was not merely to imitate them, but it was because they [the plebeians] had become more intelligent, more wealthy and more numerous, and their tastes and ambitions had in consequence been modified. Through these transformations the congruence in a whole sector of society was broken between the aptitudes of individuals and the kind of activity allocated to them. Constraint alone, more or less violent, more or less direct, henceforth binds them to these functions. In consequence only an imperfect, troubled form of solidarity can exist.

[48] Such an outcome is therefore not a necessary sequel to the division of labour. It only occurs in very special circumstances, that is, when it is the result of some external constraint. Matters are very different when it is established through some purely internal and spontaneous action, without anything arising to hinder individual initiatives. On this condition, in fact, a harmony between individual natures and social functions cannot fail to occur, at least over the average number of cases. If nothing hampers or favours unduly rivals who are disputing the tasks they perform, inevitably only those most fitted for each type of activity will succeed in obtaining it. The sole cause then determining how labour is divided up is the diversity of abilities. In the nature of things this allocation is made according to aptitude, since there is no reason for it to happen otherwise. Thus a harmony is automatically realized between the constitution of each individual and his condition. It will be argued that this is not always sufficient to satisfy men, for there are some whose desires overreach their abilities. This is true, but these are exceptional cases and may be termed of a morbid kind. Normally a man finds happiness in fulfilling his nature; his needs

are proportionate to his means. Thus in the organism each organ claims only that quantity of food consistent with its position.

[49] The forced division of labour is thus a second morbid type that we can distinguish. But we must not mistake the meaning of the term. What causes constraint is not any kind of regulation, since on the contrary the division of labour, as we have just seen, cannot do without this. Even when functions are allocated in accordance with set rules, the distribution is not necessarily the result of constraint. This is what takes place even under a caste regime, so long as it is based upon the nature of society. Indeed the institution of caste is not at all times and places an arbitrary one. When it functions regularly in a society, meeting with no opposition, it is because it at least approximately expresses the immutable way in which professional abilities are distributed throughout society. This is why, although tasks are to a certain extent allocated by law, each organ performs its own spontaneously. Constraint begins only when regulation, no longer corresponding to the true state of affairs and consequently without any moral foundation, is only maintained by force.

[50] Conversely, we may therefore state that the division of labour only produces solidarity if it is spontaneous, and to the degree that it is spontaneous. But spontaneity must mean the absence not simply of any deliberate, formal type of violence, but of anything that may hamper, even indirectly, the free unfolding of the social force each individual contains within himself. It supposes not only that individuals are not consigned forcibly to performing certain determined functions, but also that no obstacle whatsoever prevents them from occupying within the ranks of society a position commensurate to their abilities. In short, labour only divides up spontaneously if society is constituted in such a way that social inequalities express precisely natural inequalities. It is a necessary and sufficient condition for these inequalities neither to be emphasized nor played down through some external cause. Perfect spontaneity is therefore only a sequel to, and another form of, this further fact: absolute equality in the external conditions of the struggle. It does not consist of a state of anarchy which would allow men to satisfy freely every inclination they have, good or bad. It rather

comprises a finely articulated organization in which each social value, distorted neither in one direction nor in the other by anything outside it, is appreciated at its true worth. It will be objected that even under these conditions, struggle still occurs, because of the fact that there must be victors and vanquished, with the latter accepting their defeat only under constraint. But this constraint does not resemble the other form; it has nothing in common with it save the term. What constitutes real constraint is when even struggle becomes impossible, and one is not even allowed to fight.

[51] It is true that this perfect spontaneity is nowhere encountered as a fact realized in practice. There is no society where it exists in an unalloyed form. If the institution of castes corresponds to the natural distribution of abilities, it nevertheless does so only approximately – in short, in a rough and ready way. Indeed, heredity never acts with such precise accuracy that even where it meets with conditions most favourable for its influence, children are the exact replicas of their parents. There are always exceptions to the rule. Consequently cases occur where the individual is not attuned to the functions that are attributed to him. Such disharmonies become more frequent as society develops, until such time as the bounds burst, having become too constricting. When the caste regime has disappeared by law, it survives in morality. Thanks to the persistence of certain prejudices, a certain favouritism is attached to some individuals, and the converse, unrelated to their merits, obtains for others. Finally, even when, so to speak, no trace of all these past vestiges remains, the hereditary transmission of wealth suffices to render very unequal the external conditions for the struggle, since it gives to some the benefit of advantages that do not necessarily correspond to their personal value. Even today, among the most cultured peoples, careers exist that are totally closed, or more difficult to enter for those blighted by misfortune. It might then appear that we have no right to consider as normal a characteristic that the division of labour never manifests in its pure state, if on the other hand, we did not observe that the higher the elevation in the social scale, the more the segmentary type of society is submerged beneath

the organized type, and the more also these inequalities tend to be evened out completely.

[52] In fact the progressive decline of castes from the time when the division of labour was instituted is a law of history, for, being linked to the politico-family organization, they necessarily regress with that form of organization. The prejudices to which they gave rise and that they leave behind do not survive indefinitely, but are gradually extinguished. Employment in the public sector is increasingly thrown open freely to everybody, with no stipulation as to wealth. Lastly, even this ultimate inequality, which springs from the fact that rich and poor exist by birth, without disappearing completely, is at least somewhat mitigated. Society strives to reduce it as much as possible, by helping in various ways those placed in too disadvantageous a situation, and by assisting them to move out of it. It demonstrates in this way that it feels itself obliged to make room for all the deserving, and that it recognizes as unjust an inferiority that is personally not merited. But what manifests even more clearly this tendency is the belief, nowadays very widespread, that equality between citizens is becoming ever greater, and that it is right that this should continue to grow. So general a sentiment cannot be a pure illusion, but must express, in some obscure way, an aspect of reality. Moreover, as the progress of the division of labour implies on the contrary an ever-increasing inequality, the equality for which the public consciousness affirms in this way the necessity cannot be that which we are discussing, that is, equality in the external conditions of struggle.

[53] Moreover, it is easy to understand what necessitates this levelling process. We have just seen that any external inequality compromises organic solidarity. This effect is not very harmful to lower societies, where solidarity is above all ensured by a community of beliefs and sentiments. Indeed, however strained may be the ties deriving from the division of labour, as it is not they that bind the individual most strongly to society, social cohesion is not threatened. The dissatisfaction arising from thwarted aspirations is not sufficient to turn those who suffer from it against the social order that is its cause, for they continue to adhere to it. This is not because they find in it the necessary field for the

development of their professional activity, but because it epitomises in their eyes a host of beliefs and practices by which they live. They hold to it because the whole of their inner life is bound up with it, because all their convictions assume its existence, and because, serving as a basis for the moral and religious order, it appears sacred to them. Private frustrations that are of a temporal kind are plainly too slight to undermine the states of consciousness deriving from such an origin, which retain an exceptional power. Moreover, as professional life is little developed, these frustrations are only intermittent. For all these reasons they are only weakly felt. Thus one grows accustomed to them without difficulty. Such inequalities are not only even found to be tolerable, but also natural.

[54] This is exactly the opposite to what occurs when organic solidarity becomes predominant, for then everything that causes it to weaken touches the social bond in its most vital spot. Firstly, since in these conditions specialized activities are exercised almost continuously, they cannot be disturbed without some suffering occurring at every moment. Then, as the collective consciousness grows weaker, the contestation that arises cannot be so completely neutralized. The sentiments held in common no longer possess the same strength, so as to keep the individual, in spite of everything, bound to the group. Subversive tendencies, lacking in future any countervailing force, emerge more readily. Losing increasingly the transcendency that placed it, as it were, above human interests, the social organization no longer has the same power to resist. Yet at the same time it is more strongly under attack. As the work of wholly human hands, it can no longer so effectively oppose human demands. At the very moment when the flood tide grows more violent, the dyke that contained it is breached. Thus the situation becomes much more dangerous. This is why in organized societies it is indispensable for the division of labour to attain more nearly that ideal of spontaneity we have just defined. If societies attempt – and they should attempt – to eliminate external inequalities as much as possible, it is not only because the undertaking is a noble one, but because in solving this problem their very existence is at stake. For they cannot continue to be

sustained unless all their constituent parts are interdependent, and solidarity is only possible on this condition. Thus we may predict that this work of justice will become still more absolute as the organized type of society develops. However considerable the progress already realized in this domain may be, it probably gives only a very slight idea of what will be accomplished later.