The study of education can be to complex societies what the study of religion has been to societies variously characterized by anthropologists as ‘simple,’ ‘cold’ or ‘elementary.’ Recognizing this potential, sociologists and social anthropologists have recently indicated a renewed interest in the study of how schooling, especially higher education, implicitly defines and transmits a culturally valued cognitive style, ‘a set of basic, deeply interiorized master-patterns’ of language and thought on the basis of which other patterns are subsequently acquired (Bourdieu 1967: 343; see also Cole, Gay, Glick and Sharp 1971).

This paper is built upon the assumption that modernization consists of processes of structural transformation which tend to increase both the resource-producing or energy-producing capacity of a social configuration and the extent to which this capacity may be realized and coordinated by strategic elites. There are a number of qualifications. For example, modernization involves an increase in resources or energy produced and/or an increase in the extent to which such resources are channelled into the hands of groups such as capitalist entrepreneurs and state officials. In the short run, rapid increases may occur in either of these aspects while the other remains relatively stable. ‘Resources’ and ‘energies’ are terms broadly interpreted to include the enthusiasms and allegiances of a population experiencing profound alterations in the conditions of its existence, the fruits of colonial expansion and frontier exploration, and the outcomes of scientific research and technological innovation. A proportion of resources is likely to be drawn from outside the national polity (for example through colonial receipts or ‘development aid’); a proportion is also likely to be applied outside this polity (as in warfare and commercial activity).

A comparative study of assimilation like the present one has shown that the structural or environmental factors in the larger society are principally responsible for the differential rates of assimilation. Historically, the United States has been racist in its treatment of nearly all immigrants. Eastern and Southern Europeans were judged inferior along ethnic/racist lines (Gordon 1964), let alone those with more pronounced physical characteristics such as blacks, Latins or Asians. The legal structure erected in the United States, which includes the historical anti-ethnic legisla- tion, discriminatory immigration policies and racist miscegenation laws, reflects the attitudes and perceptions of the host society. The long years of unfair policies and discriminatory practices implemented against the Chinese produced feelings of rejection among them. In Lima, by contrast, the Hispanic cultural tradition does not emphasize racial differences. Although therere is a subtle racism in Lima, there is no miscegenation law, and children born of marriages between Chinese and Peruvians become important factors in the assimilation of the Chinese.

It is one of the central paradoxes of any legal system that it should appear at once so central to the imposition of decisive pronouncements aimed at the very structure of social relationships yet remain dependent on forces beyond its direct control for the acceptance and implementation of these strictures. This peculiar status of laws and legal institutions gives rise both to exaggerated claims for its impact on social change and equally unrealistic assertions that all legal systems merely follow and support processes whose fundamental operations are carried out in the broader spheres of social and political life. Like other institutions, a legal system performs distinctive tasks in accord with its own internal history and logic. But in its very design and operation it is deeply influenced by the struggles for control and influence that occur among its own personnel, and between them and other sectors of society. Being neither self-executing nor independently defined, statutory propositions and judicial opinions have impacts which are as difficult to trace in detail as they are wide-ranging and interconnected at large. Even in societies with elaborated and sharply delineated legal institutions, the role of the legal system in shaping or reflecting social and political patterns partakes of this confusion of distinctiveness and derivativeness.

Let us define a cycle as a recurrent pattern in the life (or functioning) of a system. The concept implies that over a certain period of time the system, in some meaningful sense, returns to its starting point, that it regains a state occupied at an earlier stage. If such behavior is demonstrably regular and if recurrence takes place in a pattern that is potentially predictable, such behavior may appropriately be called cyclical or periodic. Cycles are commonly distinguished from trends.

This article examines the relationship between the Catholic Church's self- image and the way its leaders and organizations perceive the world around them and act within it. By focusing on the development of central religious concepts, (most notably ‘authority’ and ‘the Church’) and their changing expression in organizational structures and patterns of behavior, a first step is taken toward a more complete and adequate analysis of the Church's evolving role in Latin American society and politics.

Since 1972 I have been conducting a study of Jews in Tunisia and Morocco and Arabs in Israel. This study included interviews with stratified quota samples of Tunisian and Moroccan Jews from August 1972 to August 1973 and conversations with community leaders during these thirteen months, as well as my participation in the life of the Jewish communities. From May through August 1974 I carried out field work in Israel, surveying a stratified quota sample of Israeli Arabs and meeting regularly with Arabs from all walks of life. After my departure, research assistants completed the survey. Jews in Tunisia and Morocco and Arabs in Israel were selected for study because they are religious minorities in non-secular states. While they bear some resemblance to minorities the world over, there are additional factors defining their position in society which make their circumstances relatively unique. I have elsewhere described them as ‘non-assimilating’ minorities. The purpose of this paper is to examine two questions pertaining to the groups I am studying: (1) What factors account for the unnarrowed cultural distance between the three minorities and their respective host societies? (2) How do the three minorities understand their respective sociocultural identities? In responding to the second of these questions, some findings from the surveys will be presented.

In the spring of 1907, the British Chancellor of the Exchequer, Herbert Asquith, was asked in Parliament for his opinion on taxing the growing number of private automobiles in Great Britain. Such a measure, Asquith replied, would be an ‘almost ideal tax, because it is a tax on a luxury which is apt to degenerate into a nuisance’. This remark was typical of the British upper-class attitude toward the motor car in theearly decades of this century: it was unlikely that the automobile would become widely owned by the middle classes, and unthinkable that it could be owned by the lower classes. Such motoring as was to be done by men of humble station would be as chauffeurs and lorry drivers. The wealthy would continue to use their new self-propelled playthings for weekend pleasure trips in the country.

This is a study in political anthropology. The feudal-bourgeois characteristics of the groups which dominated the Arab national movement and the socialist workers'ideology that was central to Zionism in Palestine during most years of the British mandate are discussed briefly. The main part of the study analyzes the circumstances underlying the rise of a new Arab class formation and the meaning of a struggle for minority rights within Israel where the state employs political and other means, and ideological mystifications, in order to deny the implications of this Arab class and national reality.

Before Denmark finally achieved parliamentary democracy in 1901, it was already well on the way to becoming a thorough-going welfare state and was, until about the Second World War, a leader in developing the institutions and ideology of welfare capitalism. The contrast with the United States, where democratic political institutions are much older, but where welfare institutions have developed more slowly and in very different form, is striking. The two countries, of course, vary enormously in size and circumstances, but as with any industrializing nation, they have some things in common: cities, an urban poor, an organized demand for the passage of social welfare legislation. A comparative view may reveal aspects of each country in sharper perspective than an examination of either in isolation. The question is: How is it that welfare institutions were so much more intellectually available in Denmark than in the United States? The conclusion is that institutions of modern welfare capitalism in Denmark were designed to resemble as much as possible traditional pre-democratic—and pre-socialist—Danish institutions, and that the institutions were successful precisely because they did not require any break with historical continuity and fit so well into long-familiar traditions and habits of thought.

Between 1873 and 1935 dramatic changes took place in the character of production in the industrial nations of the world. Longstanding and newly formed states in Europe and America engaged in vigorous campaigns of territorial expansion, so that virtually all the globe came to be incorporated within the sphere of world markets. During the same period, the expansion in industrial countries of new techniques of mass production coincided with growth and consolidation of organizations of people who worked for wages. The expansion of world markets, the development of mass produc— tion, and the new social importance of wage laborers, while certainly not the only features of the era, are often viewed as its central, interrelated, and dynamic basis.1 In this context, the transformations of production which accompanied the rise of a world wheat market during these decades were quite unusual.

Despite the historical significance of European decolonization after the Second World War, there has been no serious interpretive account of it as an overall process. A number of excellent case studies exist analyzing specific policies or periods in the imperial capitals or in the colonial territories, and there are several chronologically complete surveys of the decline of European rule overseas. These have neither been directed nor followed, however, by studies attempting to conceptualize synthetically the entire period. In default of a wide-ranging debate over the character of decolonization as an historical movement, a kind of conventional wisdom has grown up attributing the differences in the British and French experiences to a combination of their respective imperial traditions and the governing abilities of their domestic political institutions. As yet, there has been no systematic attempt to separate carefully the chief variables to be analyzed, to assign them weights of relative importance, and to coordinate them in an historical and comparative manner. This essay hopes to open discussion of these questions.

‘Modernization theory’, Alexander Gerschenkron remarked recently, ‘obstructs rather than promotes the understanding of processes of econo- mic change’. Far from being a startling judgement, Gerschenkron's comment only signals that another distinguished scholar has joined the theory's detractors. The marked failure of modernization theory to predict how less developed countries would react to incentives for material advance explains the growing chorus of criticism. This indeterminate response from third world peoples has quite properly raised doubts about how well we understand what is involved in the reorientation of a society's habitual practices. The blight of disconfirming evidence, according to E. I. Eisenstadt, has now led to the abandonment of hope that breakdowns in modernization would be followed by resurgences towards modernity.

INTRODUCTION

In looking at yesterday's frontiers (or at today's industrialized world), social analysts tend to see violence as a straightforward and uncomplicated phenomenon: when openly used, it is a direct way of settling disputes; when it is not used but available, it is a necessary—and, at least in the short run, sufficient—condition of domination. As a background condition violence is readily forgotten. Such is the case even in the study of the various affronts to authority that are lumped under the rubric of‘collective behavior.’ One speaks of violent ‘episodes’ arising from the ‘breakdown’ of various routine social mechanisms. By the same token, all the interesting problems in political theory seem to lie in the area of how to control people in every other conceivable manner: through the establishment of a normative consensus, through ideologies, through the creation of common interests, or through bargains and deals. Sufficient consideration is not usually given to the varied and subtle effects of these ways in which the capacity for violence is structured in social life. But consequences follow for any society from the presence or absence of full-time military specialists, from the forms of their organization, from the regional distribution of control of organized violence, from the advantages and disadvantages associated with the use of force, and from the norms associated with such use.

In his recent study,The Decline of Fertility in Germany, 1871–1939, John Knodel shows that in about two generations the ‘overall fertility declined by 60 percent, marital fertility by 65 percent, and illegitimate fertility by 54 percent.’ Given the facts that a greater percentage of women of child-bearing ages than ever before were married during this period, and that illegitimate births never counted for more than 10 percent of the total births, Knodel concludes that the decline was mainly due to a reduction of marital fertility. This decline became apparent in the 1870s and was already pronounced enough to be a matter of concern for a variety of sociologists, demographers, and physicians in the decades immediately before the First World War. One of the reasons for this contemporary concern sprang from the belief that the secular decline in fertility indicated that birth control, hitherto presumably limited to the effete French and to rather small numbers of German middle class and professional families, was now being practiced with a marked degree of success by large numbers of German working class families. In the minds of many nationalistic demographers, what had been the private vice of the publicly virtuous now threatened to become a mass phenomenon with potentially disastrous results.