Abstract
Spring
2003, Vol. 46, No. 1, Pages 21–39
Posted
online on December 3, 2003.
(doi:10.1525/sop.2003.46.1.21)
Continuity
and Change in Howard S. Becker's Work: An Interview with Howard S. Becker
Ken Plummer
Howard S. Becker is one of the foremost sociologists of
the second half of the twentieth century. Although he is perhaps best known for
research on deviance and his book Outsiders, this constitutes only a
very small fraction of his earliest work. This interview looks at some of the
continuities and cores of his work over fifty years. Becker highlights how his
work maintains the same core concerns, although new interests have been added
over time. At the core is a concern with "work" and "doing
things together." Becker provides many concrete stories from the past and
also raises issues about the nature of doing theory and research, how he writes
and produces his studies, and the problems attached to the professionalization
of sociology. His writing on art and culture can be seen as assuming a major
position in his later work, but he does not identify with either postmodernism
or cultural studies.
Howard
S. Becker did his undergraduate and graduate work at the
He
is the author of Outsiders, Art Worlds, Writing for Social
Scientists, and Tricks of the Trade. He now lives and works in
This
interview took place in
I’d
like to ask you where you see sociology has come to, and what its pitfalls
are
now. Is there any thing that has held you together in your sociological life
for
the past .fty years? Actually I think there is a very strong underlying
continuity
to all your work, but you may not see that. It’s those sorts of
things
that I’d like to get into.
Howar
d
continuous.
KP:
It’s all from one cloth.
HB:
Oh yes, absolutely. I mean I don’t think I’ve changed the way I do things
very
much. You know, I’ve added things, quite a lot of things, cause I’m kind
of a
magpie—you know, I just pick up new things, but they always get incorporated
into
the way I do stuff.
KP:
So lots of different areas you’ve looked at?
HB:
Yes.
KP:
But always the same approach basically?
HB:
Yes.
KP:
Because a lot of people still think of you as a deviancy specialist.
HB:
Yes. A lot of people think of my earlier work as mainly about deviance, but
it’s
not.
KP:
It’s a very limited period of your work, isn’t it?
HB:
Well, I don’t know if I had periods, I never really did work on deviance as
such.
What happened was I did my master’s thesis on musicians. After I got
out
of school, I did the marijuana study, which I wanted to do because I read
Alfred
Lindesmith’s book on opium addiction and thought, This is really
terri.c
and I could do the same thing with marijuana. It’ll be interesting
because
it’s not addictive. It’ll be kind of an interesting comparison. And at
that
same time, when I was writing the marijuana stuff up, I sat down and
wrote
ninety pages about deviance. This is in 1953 or 1954, and I wrote
ninety
pages, too long for an article, not long enough for a book. My friend
Erving
Goffman would have .gured out a way to make a book out of it right
away,
which I didn’t. Maybe ten years later I found this draft in a .le and
said,
“Hey, this isn’t bad,” and I sent it to Irwin Deutcher, who I knew from
book
out of this, this is pretty interesting.” And then I got the idea of
sandwiching
the
marijuana stuff and the musician stuff in between parts of the
essay
on deviance. One of the reviewers, I think it was Kai Erickson, pointed
out
that there was a certain lack of coherence in this volume, which was
absolutely
right. But that was my involvement with deviance.
KP:
Well, and a few little bits. There’s the book The Other Side?
HB:
True. I was editing the journal Social Problems and the year after Outsiders
I
collected
some papers from the journal for that book. Then I wrote another
chapter
for the British Sociological Association conference, in 1974, which
became
the tenth chapter of the book as it is now. And I wrote a few pieces
later
on about drugs, when LSD happened, because I thought I knew something
that
would be interesting.
KP:
“The Culture of Civility”—about
HB:
Yeah, right, I wrote that piece with Horowitz.
KP:
But if you can go right back—I don’t know what was your .rst article, but
the
piano jazz band stuff, I think that was one of your earlier pieces?
Continuity
and Change in Howard S. Becker’s Work 23
HB:
That was my .rst article.
KP:
In a sense you can see straightway a continuity with the more recent Art
Worlds
in that they both
deal with cultural creative worlds.
HB:
Yes, the continuity is probably Hughesian.
were
the same, whatever he called them. One class would be called “Race
and
Ethnic Contacts,” another would be “Institutions,” and the other one he
taught
a lot was “The Sociology of occupations and professions.” They were
all
the same class, and usually dealt with whatever he was reading that week.
KP:
And they all said what?
HB:
He started one of these classes I took by saying, “Everything that happens in
society
is somebody’s work,” So you could always study what’s going on
someplace
by looking at it as somebody’s work. That’s probably the most
basic
thing about everything I do .
KP:
Interesting you see it that way . . .
HB:
Let’s say you want to study the phenomenon of death. Robert Haberstein
wrote
his dissertation on funeral directors. So, when I thought about deviance,
it’s
quite obvious that this is somebody’s work.
KP:
You couldn’t say that all social life is work?
HB:
Sure you can. There’s a challenge!
KP:
Well, it’s a metaphor which you can push and you can say having sex is
work,
but it’s not so obvious as, say, many of the areas that you’ve looked at.
HB:
Not every person involved in any of these activities is working. The dead
person
is not working, but work is being done about this. It’s somebody’s
work.
So sex is obviously a lot of people’s work. It’s pornographers’ work,
it’s
policemen’s work, it’s doctors’ work. It’s therapists’ work.
KP:
But not all of it. There are bits, which touch each other.
HB:
No, not all of anything is work, but it’s an approach to any area of activity.
KP:
That does make sense as an organizing metaphor for all your work. And of
course
one of your edited collections, Sociological Work, actually puts it in
the
title.
But there’s a sense in which you are also a symbolic interactionist, yet I
never
see you use the term.
HB:
No. I don’t know what it means. I mean it’s like all those “school” titles, you
know,
labels—they’re appropriated by all kinds of people for all kinds of reasons.
So
when I look at the journal Symbolic Interaction, I don’t recognise
what’s
in there as being remotely connected to anything I’m interested in.
KP:
But I mean you are .rmly located in symbolic interactionism by other people
whether
you like it or not.
HB:
I can’t help what other people think.
KP:
Goffman’s treated the same. But he denounced symbolic interactionism as
far
as I can see. . .
HB:
Erving’s lineage is quite different from mine.
KP:
But you were in the same class together
HB:
Oh yes, we were quite close. We used to walk our babies together down
Fifty-third
Street, they’re the same age. But you know, my lineage is Simmel,
Robert
Park, Everett Hughes. I think that Erving’s lineage was Durkheim,
Radcliffe
Brown, Lloyd Warner.
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SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVES Volume 46, Number 1, 2003
KP:
That’s interesting. I would also see Simmel as being inŹuential on Goffman
too.
I mean, you both have this kind of preoccupation with what is called
mini
concepts and little phrases that sensitize you to how the world works.
You
both do that.
HB:
It’s not that having his lineage he never heard of Simmel. Of course not. But
that’s
not his lineage. He is not a descendant of Robert Park.
KP:
Right. That’s interesting.
HB:
We both worked very closely with Lloyd Warner who these days never gets
the
attention he deserves. He was quite inŹuential for a lot of people.
KP:
And you both have in common the essay mode of writing, the Simmelian
mode.
Perhaps with the exception of Art Worlds, you tend to write in
fragments—
you
write in little pieces rather than big pieces.
HB:
Oh no. Art Worlds is the stitching together of a lot of shorter pieces.
Back in
1970,
I had a year off, I was . . . most of the work I’d been doing till then was
in
the sociology of education. We had this grant to study a medical school,
then
we studied an undergraduate college, then we studied people who were
of
college age who didn’t go to college.
KP:
This is Boys in White and Making the Grade and those books.
HB:
Right, and the third one was actually Learning the Ropes edited by
Blanche
Geer.
KP:
Ah, that’s much less known.
HB:
Much less known. Graduate students did these studies and wrote them up.
They
were studies of places like a barber college, a beauty college, apprenticeship
in
the meat cutting trade, things like that. So that sort of educational
study
was what I’d been doing for ten or twelve years, including my dissertation
on
schoolteachers. I got to a place where it was boring. Because I knew I
could
go to study another educational institution and—it’s not that I knew
how
to penetrate its secrets immediately, but I knew how to study it as the
kind
of thing I knew how to study, if you see what I mean. And three days
after
I got there, I knew what the book would look like three years from that.
So
it was boring and I didn’t want to do it anymore, and I was teaching at
Northwestern
by then. Until then, I had subsisted on grants, research that was
funded
by raising money somewhere, and now I didn’t have to do that anymore.
So I
was quite free to do any damn thing I wanted to instead of looking
for
a topic where we could .nd some money.
I
thought at the time that the sociology of art was a really underdeveloped
area,
because it was mostly in the hands of people who were pretty much
aestheticians.
You
know, like Adorno, Lukacs, and Lucien Goldmann, whose
work
was a thinly disguised way of making and justifying judgments of value
in
various arts. And I thought that this was not really all that could be done. I
spent
the year reading very widely: books by .lm editors, books about Florentine
art,
books about Victorian novelists, and I came away with a lot of raw
material.
I wrote a piece called “Art as Collective Action,” which appeared in
the ASR,
I think it was 1974. That became the .rst chapter of the book.
But
about that time an odd thing happened. I was out in
got
a call from the head of my department, Bob Winch, who said, “Look,
Continuity
and Change in Howard S. Becker’s Work 25
something’s
come up. There’s a new professor of ethnomusicology here, a
man
named Klaus Wachsman, and he’s quite surprised that we don’t have
a
class in the sociology of art —he says he needs it for his Ph.D. students.” It
was
kind of a joke, because nobody had a course in the sociology of art then.
“Would
you be interested in teaching it?” So I said, “Well, that’s a message
from
someplace. OK.” And I taught that class and I think the .rst or second
year
I taught it, I recorded the lectures and got them transcribed, and they
became
the basis of the chapters of the book. Then I’d write a piece, somebody
would
ask me to do something for a conference and I’d write a piece
about
something, and that became part of a chapter or whatever, and I just
wrote
a lot of pieces and eventually I had eight or ten of them and laid them
all
out on the ground and said, “OK, what’s missing?”
KP:
Well, that’s the same as Outsiders then in a way, isn’t it?
HB:
Even more so. Every book I’ve written is like that.
KP:
So it’s little bits that emerge. It’s like a kind of collage which eventually
takes
on
some coherence.
HB:
All in the service of a controlling idea, which of course changes from time to
time.
But the idea of art as something that a lot of people do together, and
that
it is a matter of convention which one gets to be called the artist, that
was
right there pretty much from the beginning.
KP:
So we’ve got the notion of work. You keep saying collective action and you
keep
saying, here in the case of Art Worlds, a lot of people doing things
together.
So
that’s another kind of major preoccupation—doing things together. That’s
how
deviance works too. Doing things together. Are there any other kind of
mini
ideas—mini concepts that are really organizing frames for everything
you
do? I mean, these are the ones you’ve written about. I can hear them all
the
time. Are there other ones you think are around?
HB:
Well, the other one that is really connected to that is the idea of process. If
you
explore this notion fully, which for a long time I didn’t, not really, not in
some
abstract sense, it starts to put pay to the idea of cause and establishing
causal
relationships. I mean all kinds of work does that, treats things as—
here
are the causes and there are the results. How you get from one to the
other
is not explored, it’s just, the causes cause the effect.
KP:
So it’s “how” questions. I mean that to me is very Blumerian.
HB:
It’s extremely Blumerian. Because the key criticism Blumer made of
everything,
of
every theory that proposed to explain human conduct, was that
they
act as though there’s some automatic connection between stimulus and
action,
between instinct and action, between culture and action. Like, “Why
did
you do that?” “Well, it’s my culture.” People do that, whatever it is you
want
to explain, because it’s in their culture. He said, “No, bullshit. The way
it
works is there are all kinds of things in the environment, people are active
not
passive, they’re not sitting there waiting to be stimulated to do something,
or
being forced to do something, being coerced by their instincts or
their
culture. They’re busy doing things and they’re actively searching the
environment.
They are not responding to stimuli, they’re creating stimuli,
looking
in the environment for what they can use,” It’s very Deweyish.
26
SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVES Volume 46, Number 1, 2003
Blumer
always insisted that there is always this step between what’s in the
environment
and the behavior that comes out, which is the stage of reŹection.
And
he used to give us this exercise which was really quite wonderful,
because
he would rave on and on about what was wrong with instinct theory
and
what was wrong with stimulus response theory, etc., and then ask us to
do
this exercise: take any ten minutes of your own behavior and explain
what
went on in those ten minutes using one of those theories. And you
know,
really and truly, you can’t do it. The theories aren’t up to it. Whereas
the
whole notion of an internal dialogue, you can observe that, you really can
observe
it.
You’re
talking all the time in your head, you’re always thinking of things,
and
you’re paying attention to what the other one says. One of the implications
of
that is that there’s no telling where it’ll end up. You can’t make predictions.
I’ve
been quoting David Mamet, the American playwright who says
somewhere,
but I can’t .nd it, he says, “In every scene in a play all the people
who
are in the scene are there because they want something. If they didn’t
want
something they wouldn’t be there, so by de.nition if they’re there, they
want
something. And the scene develops by each of them pursuing what
they
want in the light of what other people are willing to do and what results
from
everybody pursuing what they want, and having to adjust to each
other,
is something none of them might have wanted and certainly that you
could
never have guessed in advance.” It results from their interactions.
KP:
But that is the original symbolic interactionist stance. It seems to me that a
lot
of
interactionists have moved on into a lot of other things and have dropped
what
is in fact the core of it.
HB:
That’s the only part worth having. There’s that great paper of Blumer’s. He
said
the same thing over and over again, and the one paper where it is best
summarized
is the piece called “The Sociological Implications of the
Thought
of George Herbert Mead.”
KP:
It breaks into .ve different parts.
HB:
Yes, and “Collective Action” is one of them. That’s the part that seems to me
central,
because if you have that image of one person acting that way and
then
all the people in the scene acting together to produce whatever happens
in
the scene, you just extend that.
KP:
Yes, but it isn’t just true of people, it’s true of objects too. It reminds me
of
that
article where you talk about overhead projectors in classrooms and you
take
that as an object and then you go to all the people involved in making it
work
and making it happen. On its own, the object is nothing, but it requires
that
collective action round it.
HB:
Yes. I’ve found the way Bruno Latour makes a great deal out of nonhuman
actions
very useful. He speaks of nonhuman actors, machines. Latour de.nes a
machine
as when you get a bunch of independent parts and tie them together
in
such a way that they begin to control each other’s behavior, like the governor
on
an engine. That’s a machine. Well, he says, “The people are tied into the
machine
and the machine is tied into what they’re doing and you can think of
that
as a bigger machine.” It’s another way of talking about the same thing.
Continuity
and Change in Howard S. Becker’s Work 27
It’s
absolutely fascinating to me that Latour who, I don’t think, probably to
this
day, has read a word of John Dewey, or George Herbert Mead, I can’t
imagine
him reading that, but it’s exactly a pragmatist position. It’s all sociology
of
science and it’s brilliantly original.
KP:
I’m still trying to get at key themes in your work. And one way in getting at
them
is also to think about if there have been any signi.cant shifts. We said
you’ve
more or less been doing the same thing for .fty years in different
areas
of inquiry. From writing to everything you think about that comes out
this
way. So would you say over half a century there has been anything that’s
kind
of dramatically made you go through some transformation in the way
you
think about the world? Or perhaps there really hasn’t been anything like
that?
Given the fads and foibles of sociology, with one trend after another,
you
must have seen so many by now. Has there been anything in any of that
that’s
kind of hit you and made you say, “Now look, I’ve got to rethink this.”
HB:
I don’t think that I’ve ever thought I had to rethink things. I’ve added all
kinds
of stuff. And in the course of adding, you know, you change the main
house
when you put the addition on. And there are lots of things like that.
When
I began to read in art history and literary theory and what not, when I
started
doing Art Worlds, I just picked up all kinds of ideas that were so
useful
to
me. To be sure I twisted them so that they’d .t into what I was doing,
but
they were new stuff.
KP:
But that is something that makes you a very different kind of sociologist. The
fact
that as your work progresses, you become more and more interested in
literature
and drama and you have more and more references to this. More
and
more concerns about writing, of being intelligible, of being literate,
which
actually, for a large number of sociologists doesn’t even come into the
game
at all.
HB:
Well, those were always interests of mine. It was always just a question of
working
them in. I tell this story in my writing book. When Jim Carper and I
wrote
this piece about occupational identities and sent it to the AJS, Everett
Hughes,
who was the editor, he wrote this scathing letter. I got a letter back
from
Helen Hughes, his wife, who was the managing editor, saying, “Howie,
you
know that
was
just raving. “What happened to you, you used to write decent English.
Good
God, this sounds like it was translated from German, word for word.”
KP:
But it does seem to be a credential these days to be a good sociologist. I’m
not
talking
Parsonian stuff. I’m just suggesting that students are almost trained
to
write incomprehensibly. And it is a feature of your work all the way
through,
that it’s always intelligible and everybody says that about it.
HB:
Sometimes critically.
KP:
Yes, well of course the trouble with it is, it makes it sound too obvious and
too
simple because, you know, you can understand what you’re saying.
HB:
Yes, that’s what they say. It is a fault. I remember when I read Leonard
Meyer’s
book Emotion and Meaning in Music. This book gives you kind of a
gestalt
theory of how music carries or creates emotional meaning, based on
the
idea of tension and release. But the key idea is that this is all convention28
SOCIOLOGICAL
PERSPECTIVES Volume 46, Number 1, 2003
alized
because you have come to expect that a dominant seventh chord will
be
resolved into a tonic chord, which is like a fundamental piece of Western
musical
practice. Because listeners have come to expect that, you can really
create
an enormous tension by not resolving the dominant seventh chord
that
way.
You
create tension by not doing what people expect. It is connected to the
idea
of inertia. And there’s lots of stuff that people have learned to expect.
That
this chord will lead to that chord, for instance. I used to do this thing in
class,
it was a lot of fun. I’d put a musical staff on the board, write down middle
C.
Then I’d say, “OK, this is the .rst note of the melody,” and I’d sing it,
“mmmmm.”
“O.K. what’s the second note?” So they’d look at me like “What
are
you talking about?” I’d say, “Come on, what is the second note? You have
to
guess.” So somebody would .nally say E, you know, because everybody’s
learned
that much music in school. “So you mean C E,” I’d sing it, it’s a
major
triad, right? Anybody have a different idea? Somebody would say D.
C D,
second note of the scale. “Well, what do you think? Which one is it?” So
then
people would begin to guess wildly. Finally I’d say, “OK, I can see you
can’t
solve this with the information I’ve given you. OK, the second note is E.
He
was right, C E. What’s the third note?” If I did it right the whole class
would
sing “G.” Because it was obvious. Why was it obvious? Because you’d
indicated
that this was going to be a major triad. If I’d said no, it was D—C,
D,
E—everybody knew that that was the next note. That was the fundamental
idea
of Meyer’s book. It’s a very powerful idea, and then I read a number
of
other things about the idea of convention, which he made such good use
of.
It’s all through discussions of art, literature, and everything else.
KP:
It’s bound in narrative structures and all conventions. It makes me ponder
where
you stand on another “ism,” which is postmodernism. This is supposed
to
be a theory which breaks down those conventions.
HB:
I don’t know. I haven’t read that much.
KP:
I’ve never seen you proclaim on it.
HB:
No, no. I didn’t think they were talking about anything I was interested in.
Coming
back to conventions, I soon saw that the idea of convention was the
same
idea as the sociologist’s idea of norms, shared understandings, any of
those
words we habitually use. If that’s true, then you can import all the
work
people do on conventions in all these various .elds and it’s sociology.
KP:
You wouldn’t use words like “institutions” for that, would you? It’s not part
of
your language.
HB:
No, but it was part of Everett’s, Everett Hughes. He was a wonderful essayist.
But
that idea was always kind of vague to me.
interchangeably
with organization, I think. An institution was an organization
that
lasted longer than some other organizations. But he didn’t set great
store
on distinctions like that. So the idea of conventions was something that
had
a big effect on me, but I wouldn’t say it transformed my way of thinking.
It
added to my repertoire.
Similarly,
when I started reading Latour’s work, I thought, this is a soul
buddy,
you know, this guy is simpatico. I met him in
Continuity
and Change in Howard S. Becker’s Work 29
and
I read Laboratory Life and then I read everything else Bruno had put
out.
It
was about the time I’d started reading French, so I would read his books, in
French,
painfully, but then after a while I realized that everything he does
now
is going to be translated, so I stopped that because it takes me a lot
longer
to read a French book. But I read Les Microbes, which is the book that
came
out in English as The Pasteurisation of Society. Science in Action came
out
in
English originally. Bruno’s work is very powerful, very original. So that’s
given
me a lot.
When
I worked with Charles Ragin at Northwestern, Charles and I talked
together
quite a bit. He’s developed this method, what he called for a while
the
Boolean method, now he calls it qualitative comparative analysis, and
that’s
had a big inŹuence on my
thinking. It originally appeared in his book
called
The Comparative Method. Now he’s got a second book, which is really a
winner.
It’s called Fuzzy Set Social Science. It’s just terri.c. It’s something
all
qualitative
sociologists should have under their belts. But they take one look
at
it, and it looks like formal logic, which it is, and “Oops—can’t deal with
that.”
KP:
Right. I haven’t read it.
HB:
Well, you should. You really should. It’s so useful, as a way of thinking, you
can’t
believe it.
KP:
“Ways of thinking”? One of the things that strike me about your work is that
by
and large, you don’t talk theory and you don’t talk method. I mean you
do
talk a lot of theory and you do talk a lot of method, but you don’t! Method
comes
up all over the place, how you do sociology, but you don’t write those
formal
papers and handbooks on interviewing, and all the rest of it. Tricks of
the
Trade is the book,
isn’t it? I mean, it’s called Tricks of the Trade, it’s not
called
A Primer of Sociological Qualitative Methodology. And the same is true
of
theory.
You haven’t written your theoretical magnum opus, because it drips
out
from everything you actually write about. Is there any reason why you
never
felt the urge to develop a formal theory?
HB:
I may have felt the urge, but it’s like Robert Hutchins, who was the president
of
the
“Whenever
I feel the urge to exercise, I lie down till it goes away.”
KP:
There could be a whole Becker school. I mean, you actually train many graduate
students,
etc., but there isn’t really a Becker school of sociology.
HB:
Praise the Lord!
KP:
[laughing] Hope that comes out.
HB:
Donald Campbell the social psychologist was another person who had quite
an
inŹuence on me. When I went to
Northwestern, there was an interdisciplinary
program
in social psychology, involving anthropology, sociology, and
psychology.
And there was a seminar, usually taught by someone from psychology
and
someone from sociology. The .rst year I was there, Raymond
Mack,
who was the head of the department and a truly brilliant administrator,
suggested
that I teach the seminar with Don, so, OK, I said yes.
He
was an incredibly wonderful person, unbelievably smart, with a very
sly
sense of humor. He said to me, with a straight face, “You know, I once
30
SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVES Volume 46, Number 1, 2003
taught
a class at the
did
understand what he was talking about, and I was so traumatized by
dealing
with him, he was such an impressive person physically.”
himself
was about 6’4”, quite impressive himself. So he said, “Why don’t we
have
the seminar this year on symbolic interaction?” Well, about halfway
through
the term, I realized that that meant I did all the work and that Don
sat
around making smart remarks. And the next year he had another idea
like
that, but I said, “No, this time you’re going to do the work.” But he was
really
an interesting guy. He had a big inŹuence on me too. What did you ask
me?
KP:
It was about methods.
HB:
I think the problem about methods in social sciences, when you talk methods,
it’s
as though you could establish a method that would be independent
of
the situation you used it in. You know, like a questionnaire. There are
principles
in
questionnaire construction and all that, and there’s a methodology
for
dealing with that. But the way that works is that you have to impose on
the
world the structure that the questionnaire requires. Latour has this wonderful
line
where he says that science is an absolutely fabulous way of doing
things.
It works like a railroad; it runs anywhere so long as tracks have been
laid
for it. Science works when you make the world into the kind of place
where
that kind of science will work. That’s the purpose of creating laboratories,
in
his analysis: science doesn’t really work in the world because there
are
too many other things going on that interfere with the thing you want to
make
happen. In a laboratory, you purify things,you keep the natural enemies
of
what you are studying under control. Then it works. Well, that’s the
case
with a lot of social science methods. It works as long as you change the
world
into the kind of place that method will work on.
KP:
Well, this is Blumer’s point too. Then you’ve amputated the world. It’s not
the
world.
HB:
Put another way, you can’t talk about anything much, other than the world
you’ve
created. Because it doesn’t work outside that, because other things
are
there. Thomas Kuhn makes the same kind of point in a different way. His
way
is really fun, because he says the only way science can make any progress
is
if everybody agrees to collaborate on answering the same small set of
questions,
using more or less the same methods. Then they make enormous
progress.
The only problem is that this almost immediately generates anomalies,
this
is the dynamics in his theory of science, because to specialize like
this
means that the scientists leave practically everything out. The only way
to
concentrate on something that way is to leave out 99 percent of what’s
going
on out there, leave it out. Well, you can leave it out, but it’s there and it
will
stick its head up.
KP:
Doesn’t it slightly depress you, looking back on .fty years’ worth of work,
with
you taking your particular stance, and not many other people working
like
you. You have your particular approach. I may be wrong, but in the main
most
of the people are working in the scienti.c cast that is going down a different
track.
Continuity
and Change in Howard S. Becker’s Work 31
HB:
The same thing is true of doing .eldwork. We are also creating a situation in
which
we can do it. It’s not exactly the real world. I mean, you study sex,
you’re
not in bed with everybody.
KP:
No. [laughter]
HB:
And there’s no way to do that. So you’ve got to .nd some way to turn what
you want
to .nd out about into something you can .nd something out about.
KP:
Would you say that one track is more useful than the other track?
HB:
The smart survey researchers, which there are some—Lazersfeld was a very
smart
researcher—work in a way that takes account, more or less, of things
that
need to be taken account of. It can be done. It’s not the way I do it. It’s
not
the only way to do it. I don’t think the way I do it is the only way to do it.
I
was brought up in a school, my descent from Robert Park includes the idea
that
there are a lot of different ways to do this. They all contribute something.
To
me, I never doubted for a moment that with all the Źaws and all the inaccuracies
and
everything left out of a census—it’s a lot better than nothing.
Am I
interested in what percentage of the American population is black?
Even
though I know that the question in the census is “Do you consider
yourself
White, Black, Asian?” I mean, what kind of a measure is that? Well,
not
bad. Good enough for a lot of purposes. With all the inaccuracies built
into
it, it’s plenty good enough for many, many purposes.
KP:
Well, this is kind of good news actually. Because I was getting an image that
you
might have after half a century of sociology been hand wringing about
the
state of sociology. But you don’t seem to be.
HB:
I’ve been what?
KP:
Hand wringing—in slight despair about the contemporary state of sociology.
HB:
I am. Despair is a little hard. I’m not going to stay up nights worrying
about
sociology.
Organizationally, science is also people doing stuff together and
the
conventionalized ways we have been doing it are very tied to universities,
and
universities are in terrible shape.
KP:
Well, this is something you were writing about in fact. I mean you have a
little
piece
in Doing Things Together which is about university education, how
sociology
departments
are changing, and this is actually obviously written in the
1970s
or the early 1980s.
HB:
I think it was published in 1980.
KP:
I mean that’s twenty-two years ago and all those trends you talk about—
specialization,
fragmentation, etc.—they’ve all just gone on. And they’ve got
more
and more extreme now.
HB:
I like that piece very much. I wrote it with Bill Rau. It’s really a demographic
analysis.
It says, look, there are ten or .fteen times as many sociologists
as
there used to be. What’s the consequence of that? The chief consequence,
I
thought, and it turns out it really is what happened, and our
friends
at Sage Publications are like a walking bulletin board of how it happened,
is
that there are enough people in every tiny subspeciality to support
a
bunch of journals, to support an organization, to elect a president, to
give
a prize, and to have a whole world so complete that they don’t need
anybody
else. And I think that’s bad for sociology, because it means that
32
SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVES Volume 46, Number 1, 2003
the
delinquency people don’t talk to the sex people and none of them talk
to
the art people.
KP:
And in the same volume you have something on graduate training which
also
is a very dif.cult area now. What constitutes any kind of basic training
in
sociology when there are so many specialties, even within methodology or
within
theory.
HB:
I have a really Deweyish notion of education. I didn’t know I did, but it turns
out
that’s what it is. I essentially think you can’t teach anybody anything.
You
can help them learn. If they want to learn and are willing to put the time
in,
you can help them teach themselves things. My model of teaching is
much
more like piano lessons, language lessons, where you learn to do
something.
Helping someone learn how to do something. I don’t like to teach
a
course which doesn’t help someone learn to do something. I love teaching
.eldwork
because, and this is the Deweyish part of it, you get them started
and
let them get into trouble. Because learning is painful. People do not like
to
learn new things. They like to do things they know how to do, and the
only
way you can get them to try anything different is to put them in a position
where
continuing to do what they know how to do is even more painful
than
learning. So the way I teach .eldwork is, “Go out and start doing it!”
“Well,
we don’t know what to do.” “I don’t care. Start, go there, watch
people,
talk to people, write it all down, then come back.” They immediately
get
themselves into what they regard as terrible trouble. A nice example is
when
they .nally get somebody to agree to be interviewed and then they
realize
they don’t know what to ask them. They hadn’t got that far in their
thinking.
And now they really want to know. Now it’s not an academic exercise.
What
is the right answer? “Listen, I was sitting and this person was
waiting
for me to interview him and I didn’t know a damn thing.”
KP:
If you adopt that model, how would you get them to do theoretical work?
HB:
You require them to make up a theory about something.
KP:
Right, so you’d show them the overhead projector and you’d say develop the
theory
of how that works . . .
HB:
I think theory really comes down to a series of activities you can do. Like the
trick
I describe in Tricks of the Trade as Bernie Beck’s trick. Bernie was
just fabulous
with
this. Students would come, they’d found this in their .eldwork or
whatever
and they wanted to know how to generalize it. And their idea of
generalizing
it would be to go read Weber and .nd something that they
could
tack this on to. They’d say, “I’m using Weber.” It’s a hideous expression:
“I’m
using Weber, I’m using Durkheim.” And Bernie would say, “No,
that’s
not how you generalize your work.” Say you found out about something.
“OK,
Becker, you studied schools”—this is the example I have in the
book—“You
studied schoolteachers in
issues
of race and class. Now tell me what you found out. But you’re not
allowed
to use the word
or school.
Now tell me what you’ve found out.” That’s a theoretical
exercise.
My model is really like learning to play the piano. When we play
the
piano we play scales, we learn to play chords: do this, do that. The doing
Continuity
and Change in Howard S. Becker’s Work 33
is
the main thing.
I
mean, it is doing something, but it’s not doing what you need to do
to
get your work done.
KP:
It’s doing Weber work or Marx work.
HB:
Yeah, exactly.
HB:
You see, what I think is wrong these days, why despair, is that everything
has
become so formulaic and so ritualized. You only have to look at the journals.
You’re
a journal editor and you know that the papers you get are written
to a
template. When I was learning sociology, just after I got out of graduate
school,
I spent a couple of years among psychologists. The canonical
experimental
psychology paper is such a formula: theory, problem, subjects,
method,
results, conclusion. It was just like .lling out a form.
KP:
Well, a lot of Ph.D.’s in sociology are like that now. Even the Ph.D. student
is
made
to write these silly “literature reviews.” And it’s called the literature
review.
And there’s no imagination.
HB:
Harvey Molotch wrote a wonderful paper called “Going Out.” He talks
about
that, and he says, “They talk about ‘the literature,’ or even worse now,
‘the
literatures’ in the plural.” I mean, what the hell is that? As though the
stuff
comes in a little box. Here’s the literature on the sociology of music, OK.
But
you know, maybe that’s not the relevant stuff to be reading for your
study,
even though it involves musicians.
KP:
I have a colleague, Dennis Marsden, who always says to students read it
after
you’ve done the research, don’t read it before, because it would kind of
cloud
it. Then you do need to know what other people have said about it. But
you
don’t need to read it at the beginning.
HB:
But there is a weasel word there, Ken, you need to know what other people
have
said about it. Why?
KP:
Well, whatever it is you are studying.
HB:
Well, what is it though? Education is a wonderful example. One of Edgar
Friendenberg’s
more snotty and brilliant things was to write about schools as
though
they were prisons. He looked at a school and said this is a prison in
which
wonderful young people are imprisoned and prevented from being
the
wonderful people they might be. It’s the same thing Goffman is talking
about,
total institutions. I mean, there is a dimension of school life which is
exactly
like prison life. It’s not all of it, but it’s a very telling comparison. It’s
very
interesting. And the thing for sure that you can’t assume is that this
particular
place
is a school. What’s going on here? Education. What else? It is a
school;
I mean, that’s what they do. Isn’t it? Well, they might, but it’s by no
means
guaranteed. There are plenty of “schools” in which no education,
under
any construction of that word, is gong on, and there are plenty of prisons,
conversely,
in which a lot of education is going on. The way most of our
research
is done is we pick a place—this is especially with .eld research, but
it
doesn’t matter, it can be any kind of research—you pick a place and you
say
you’re going to study that place, as though you know what they did
there.
But what they do there has to be a .nding, you can’t assume that you
know
that. What they do there? You’ll .nd out what they do there, that’s
34
SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVES Volume 46, Number 1, 2003
what
your research will tell you. I remember reading in the New York Times
once
years ago (which I don’t ordinarily read because I don’t believe what I
read
there) that they had busted the warden of a prison somewhere in Soviet
railroad
siding built and they brought wool in there. He had found knitting
machines
somewhere. The whole damn prison, everybody there, was working
making
sweaters, boxing them, putting them in railroad cars, sending
them
out, selling them. Well, is that a prison or is it a sweater factory? If you
went
to study it, what would you be studying? Supposing you did this
study,
should you be reading the literature on prisons, or the literature on
factories,
or what?
KP:
This accounts for another feature of your style, because you tend not to go
over
the literature very much of whatever it is you’re studying. You know,
you’re
not a heavy footnote person, are you?
HB:
That’s another thing that bugs me about contemporary sociology. Every article
you
read has a list of references from here to the corner, hundreds of references
for
some article that doesn’t need them. It’s ridiculous.
KP:
It’s establishing your credentials in part, isn’t it?
HB:
Well, I don’t know what it is—perhaps. I mean, what it’s not doing is any
useful
thinking work. It’s not being helpful about the problem that you
study,
it just gets in the way. It’s mostly totally irrelevant. It’s paying homage.
Art
Stinchcomb wrote this piece, “Should We Honor Our Sociological
Fathers
and Mothers,” about the practice of citation. He lists seven reasons
you
might cite something, almost none of them appropriate to serious intellectual
work.
But the journals are so heavily refereed now that this might be
necessary.
The editor sends a paper, it’s pretty standard, to three referees to
read.
I don’t know, you’re an editor, how many referees do you send a paper
to?
KP:
Four.
HB:
Four?!
KP:
It’s because at least one won’t bother.
HB:
So you get at least three readings, they’re surely not going to agree. They’re
bound
to .nd things where they give divergent advice, and the editor will
usually
not adjudicate among them. The editor sends back all this stuff and
says,
“Deal with this.” And then you get this kind of patchwork—OK, this
paragraph
will answer that, that one will answer this one. Pretty soon the
paper
has no coherence, no intellectual coherence at all. It’s just a patchwork—
that’s
what it is.
KP:
And the journals are full of these sorts of articles.
HB:
Journals are full of them and especially as the market for sociology Ph.D.’s
has
contracted, creating the anxiety of young folks about, Am I going to get a
job?
Which is quite realistic and cannot be controlled in any reasonable way, and
this
goes right back to Malinowski: If you can’t do it in a reasonable way, you
do
magic. So there’s an enormous amount of magical thinking and practice.
“If
I do it the right way it’ll get published, so what do they [the editors and
referees]
want?” Trying to second guess the editors’ reviewers gets totally in
Continuity
and Change in Howard S. Becker’s Work 35
the
way of any kind of intellectual coherence. I mean, imagine Goffman trying
to
answer to that kind of stuff.
KP:
It wouldn’t get published.
HB:
He would never get published. Goffman’s papers—it’s like the experiment of
Trollope
that I mentioned in Art Worlds, where he wrote a couple of stories
under
another name and sent them to the magazines that published his work
routinely.
Not a chance. He got letters like, If you keep at it, perhaps in .ve
years.
KP:
So what you’re saying about the fate of sociology is really the
institutionalization
of
it and the fragmentation of it and its growth which actually was
inevitable?
HB:
Its growth is largely a function of its growth as a subject for undergraduates
to
study because that’s what makes the jobs for the teachers.
KP:
Graduate schools have grown enormously too.
HB:
Well, there are Ph.D. centers now.
KP:
Ph.D.’s?
HB:
Well, yeah, but the Ph.D.’s are people who—they can’t all be teaching graduate
students,
it’s like a pyramid scheme.
KP:
I wanted to raise another theme that I see in your work. It’s really caught in
the
title Outsiders, because I think you’re a bit of an outsider—to put it
mildly.
You started off as an outsider, and now as I am talking to you, you’re
still
an outsider. You’ve not held, for example, any major posts—you’ve not
been
president of the American Sociological Association. You don’t go for
any
of those big glories.
HB:
Well, I think that, not just sociologists, but also any respectable
intellectual
can’t
afford to sign on with blind loyalty to any organization. It’s just giving
too
much up, because you can’t trust an organization. You particularly can’t
trust
universities. I mean universities are—I’ve always thought that Veblen
had
his .nger on it in The Higher Learning in
as
he always was. He may have been quite serious about it. He
described
the tycoons of erudition and the captains of industry who are
.nancing
them. The tycoons of erudition, college presidents and the like,
have
to make universities the kind of places that the captains of industry
want
them to be. I mean, it shouldn’t be a surprise to sociologists that
universities
answer
to very powerful people and organizations. I don’t mean to say
that
there’s this ruling class, all of one mind, but the money’s got to come
from
some place and . . .
KP:
Well, it’s a slightly different situation in the
not
privately run institutions.
HB:
No, not when money’s coming from the government [laughter].
KP:
But in the
everything.
I don’t know whether it’s really taken on here to the same extent.
HB:
Well, you know, this is one thing Veblen said: The captains of industry are
used
to cost accounting. They want to see a quantitative measure of what
they’re
getting for their money. I know the
assessment.
It’s completely nuts. One thing that Anselm Strauss said to me
36
SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVES Volume 46, Number 1, 2003
that
stopped me cold was, he said—Anselm was always looking for the key
phrase
to de.ne someone’s work—he said, “You’re easy,” he said, “It’s liberty,
freedom,
that’s what you’re interested in.” And the more I thought
about
it, the more I think he was right. That is a preoccupation. And the
outsiderness
is
that I’m very leery, very wary of getting obligated to some institution.
A
book that I found very interesting and useful, I think about it a lot,
is
Albert Hirshman’s Exit, Voice and Loyalty. He’s an economist. What it’s
about
is, you belong to an organization. Your organization does something
you
don’t approve of. What are the possibilities? Exit, voice, and loyalty. Exit
you
quit, voice is you .ght within the institution, and loyalty is you shut up
and
go along with it.
KP:
So most of your life I suspect, you’ve been that “Voice.”
HB:
Well, I can say very often “Exit.”
KP:
Now, it’s “Exit.”
HB:
No, I’m very often, you know—places, things I do, like I mean like the ASA,
you
know, God bless it, a . . .
KP:
A big jamboree.
HB:
That’s what it is. It’s not something you’d want to be president of. I mean,
seriously,
you know, because I saw friends of mine who were. The year Stan
Lieberson
was president, he’s an old buddy of mine, I was on the program
committee
at Stan’s request and, good God, I mean, once you’re involved in
the
day-to-day running of things, it goes on and on . . .
KP:
If you’ve been “exiting,” where does that leave your politics over the past
.fty
years in relation to sociology? I know you’ve written about radical matters
in
politics; “hierarchies of credibilities” and the “Gouldner” attack and
all
that stuff. But have you really been a quietist in the sense of really not
being
a major activist for large periods of time?
HB:
I’ve never really been politically very active. I suppose I’m a little
pessimistic
about
that. The issue for me that is sort of like the canary in the coal mine;
you
know, it’s the marijuana issue. It’s not an important matter, really. It
doesn’t
make any difference if the government make laws against it or
doesn’t.
In the larger scheme, I mean it’s not . . .
KP:
But it is a good case of your concern with liberties, isn’t it?
HB:
To me, it’s a good case. Also of—what good is it to do scienti.c research on
these
matters, because by now there isn’t the slightest doubt from any point
of
view, no reasonable biologist or medical person is going to be willing to
get
up in public and say this is a dangerous drug. There just isn’t any evidence.
In
this country, almost all the chiefs of police of major cities have
signed
on as against the marijuana laws, quite a lot of inŹuential people.
KP:
It’s happening more and more in the
HB:
It’s happening all over the place. But nothing changes, it’s been known by
physiologists
and people who do that kind of work that this is one of the
most
benign drugs you could possibly put in your body. It can hardly hurt
you.
The only way they can kill a laboratory animal with marijuana is to
inject
so much of it into the poor little rat that it .nally bursts its organs. It’s
just
physical. It’ll put it to sleep for a while. But it’s like a—I remember a
Continuity
and Change in Howard S. Becker’s Work 37
pharmachologist
telling me, “It’s astounding that a drug that has such obvious
psychological
activity, has no discernible similar physical activity.” It’s
pretty
hard to .gure out how it works. It’s pretty obvious that it doesn’t do
any
harm. I mean, everybody knows that. But you can’t get politicians to
change
any of the laws regulating it. So when it’s that clear cut and there’s
essentially
hardly any big money involved—so there’s not even that preventing
it—what
chance is there for activism about other issues where things
matter
more to people with more money, more inŹuence. And you know, I
watched
my friends over the years who were activists and I don’t see what
they’ve
accomplished that adds up to much. Too bad. The big changes in
society
don’t come about that way.
KP:
I’m not sure I agree with you completely. When I think of some, of the lesbian
and
gay movements or the women’s movement, they have brought
about
quite a few changes.
HB:
I would say that they rode in on the back of a gigantic cultural drift that was
going
in that direction. It’s like they took credit for it. I mean that was going
to
happen, bound to happen.
KP:
Interesting.
HB:
I can’t think that you know, because it’s not like there’s a riot in a bar in
New
KP:
No, no, it’s not as simple as that, but it kind of gave it the visibility that
it
needed
and it became a potent symbol.
HB:
It was like, you know—it was a match. If there hadn’t been any undergrowth
in
the forest, nothing would have happened.
KP:
Yes, yes. It didn’t come out of the blue, because nothing comes out of the
blue.
HB:
I think these major cultural changes come about over a much longer term.
Hard
to see because you don’t see it. All of a sudden, one day, it’s like somebody
says,
“Hey, it’s bullshit,” and everybody looks and says, “Oh yeah, I
guess
that’s right.” But it’s already happened.
KP:
Interesting. That gives your whole theory a kind of much broader sense of
cultural
change.
HB:
Blumer used to talk about this, not very clearly, but he said “cultural drift.”
A
good
example of it is what you see in Stanley Lieberson’s book about the .rst
names
given to children. Where over quite a long period these shifts occur,
but
nobody is trying to orchestrate it, nobody’s proselytizing on behalf of
biblical
names, and somehow over .fty years, they’ve become more important,
more
common.
KP:
But this is the background to all your little human beings actively doing
things
together in small situations, which cumulatively drift into bigger
social
change.
HB:
Yes.
KP:
One .nal thing I would like to talk about— given the popularity of Cultural
Studies
these days—is your view of culture. I wondered also about how you
felt
about the rise in cultural studies because you’ve obviously been working
in
the .eld of culture, you actually have an area of cultural studies attached
to
you in a way, but you’re very different from all the cultural studies folk.
38
SOCIOLOGICAL PERSPECTIVES Volume 46, Number 1, 2003
HB:
Yeah. Cultural studies is a phenomenon of academic politics, much more
than
an intellectual movement. I have a very simple view of culture. There’s
really
two sources for me. One is William Graham Sumner talking about
folkways
and mores. When you get a lot of people together and they all have
pretty
much the same dif.culty and they talk to each other, they’re very
likely
to arrive at a solution in common, and begin to treat that as the way we
do
it. That’s culture. That’s part of it. The other part is Red.eld’s de.nition,
which
is one of the 153 de.nitions that Kroeber, Kluckohn, and Parsons
agreed
on or whatever. Red.eld’s is “shared understandings made manifest
in
act and artifact,” I like that. It’s an interesting remark and you don’t need
to
add anything to it. Culture to me is, hey, this is the way we do it and I
know
it, I know that you know it and I know that you know that I know it.
So I
can act that way with pretty good assurance that when I do, you’ll say
how
right he’s doing X, that’s the way we do it.
KP:
And that’s missing from another common de.nition, which I think is
“designs
for living.” It doesn’t have that notion of “sharedness” about it.
HB:
Well, the “sharedness” is what makes it work.
KP:
It is crucial.
HB:
“Sharedness” is what says I can go ahead and act this way knowing that
everybody
else is going to fall in line. It’ll .t. We don’t have to sit down and
every
day begin from the beginning. What sounds shall we use today when
we
talk? And what shall we have them mean? I can speak to you as I am, and
feel
more or less that you’ll know what I’m talking about. More or less is the
quali.cation.
KP:
Yes, but then you have academic cultures, which do the same thing. So if you
say
cultural studies, you can only understand that if you’re a member of that
group,
but that’s a subculture.
HB:
My real problem with cultural studies is, and I haven’t really done a deep
study
of
this because I have lots to do, is that it struck me as they’re not very
empirical.
KP:
Well they’re not. I think you’re right. But they are empirical in the sense
that
they
take a .lm or they take one cultural artifact and then they give it multiple
meanings.
HB:
There’s a tremendous amount that they assert that they don’t know to be true.
If
I
say to them I don’t believe you, the answer to that is, well you should believe
because
look, here is the evidence. There isn’t any evidence; it’s just their
interpretations.
You
see, if you say here is the .lm, it means this, the .rst question is,
to
who does it mean that? And does it mean really that to those people?
I
just don’t take this stuff too seriously because it’s mostly, you know, jerkoff
fantasies.
KP:
Howard Becker. Thank you.
REFERENCES
Secondary
Sources
Blumer,
Herbert. 1969. “Sociological Implications of G. H. B. Mead.” Pp. 61–77 in Symbolic
Interactionism:
Perspective and Method.
Continuity
and Change in Howard S. Becker’s Work 39
Hirshman,
Albert. 1970. Exit, Voice and Loyalty.
Latour,
Bruno. 1992. Laboratory Life.
———.
1993. The Pasteurization of
Lieberson,
Stanley.
Meyer,
Leonard B. 1955. Emotion and Meaning in Music.
Press.
Molotch,
Harvey. 1994. “Going Out.” Sociological Forum 9(2):22–39.
Ragin,
Charles. 1985. The Comparative Method.
———.
2000. Fuzzy Set Social Science
Stichcombe,
Art. 1982. “Should Sociologists Forget Their Mothers and Fathers?” American
Sociologist
17:2–11.
Veblen,
Thorsten. [1918] 1965. The Higher Learning in
of
Universities by Business Men.
Howard
S. Becker’s Work Cited
Becker,
Howard S. 1963. Outsiders: Studies in the Sociology of Deviance.
———,
ed. 1964. The Other Side: Perspectives on Deviance.
———.
1971. Culture of Civility: Culture and Civility in
———.
1977. Sociological Work: Method and Substance.
Books.
———.
1982. Art Worlds.
———.
1986. Doing Things Together.
———.
1988. Tricks of the Trade: How to Think about Your Research While You’re
Doing It. Chicago:
Becker,
Howard S., Blanche Geer, Irwin Deutscher, and Elizabeth Thompson. 1968. Learning
the
Ropes: Among the People.
Becker,
Howard S., Blanche Geer, and
Side
of College Life.
———.
1961. Boys in White: Student Culture in
Press.
Interviews
with Howard S. Becker
Over
the years, Howard Becker has been interviewed a number of times. This is a
listing of
his
main interviews.
“Dialogue
with Howard S. Becker.” Issues in Criminology 5 (Summer 1970):159–79.
Reprinted
in Howard S. Becker, Doing Things Together, 25–46.
University
Press, 1986.
“Uma Entrevista com Howard S. Becker.” Estudos Históricos 5(1990):114–36 (Rio de Janeiro).
“Entrevista
com Howard Becker.” Cięncia Hoje 12, no. 68(November 1990):54–61 (
Janeiro).
“Conversation
with Howard Becker.” Videotaped interview with Silvia Gherardi and
Gianpietro
Gobo, available from the
“La carričre déviante du professeur Becker: De Al Jolson ŕ Georges Perec (en passant par
“Howard
Becker en .lature.” Le Monde, May 17, 2002, Livres, p. 5.
copyright ©
2008 by the Regents of the
Technology Partner - Atypon Systems, In
http://caliber.ucpress.net/doi/abs/10.1525/sop.2003.46.1.21
Academic year 2008/2009
© a.r.e.a./Dr.Vicente Forés López
©Macarena
García Mora
Universitat de Valčncia Press
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