My best advice: RUN! Of course, this is tongue-in-cheek. This is the first of two essays I am writing on teaching theory. It’s been some time since I put words to paper on this (here, here, and here), and my thinking has evolved and changed. This essay is largely devoted to what I think is a nasty hangover in the guise of inertia: the insistence that we teach classical theory as required. I won’t waste too much time explaining why or how I came to adopt my strong, counterculture view on classical theory, but I will say a few words about it – including the contradictory notion that I see value in learning about the classics (yes, I can and happily will hold two opposing views). Next, I offer some suggestions if one has no choice. Then, in the follow up essay, I will give some practical thoughts that have emerged as I have wrestled with designing and redesigning my own theory courses.

Mired in the Past

Every fall, I begin to wonder “why on Earth the classics keep getting further and further from our rearview mirror and yet we keep on teaching them as though they matter more than, say, the sizable chunk of not-classical, not-contemporary sociology that comprised the pre-WWII/post-WWII era’. And who had a direct influence on many of the retiring wave of 1960s/1970s sociologists that trained many of us or our advisors.

It is ridiculous that we continue to force students to contend with Marx’s evolutionary model despite its complete divorce from empirical reality. Or that we push students to struggle with Durkheim’s first text on the division of labor despite his own doubts about his claims (in the very manuscript and elsewhere). Or that we keep searching for new folks to add for one reason or another (why not Plato?!). All the while, theory – as in concepts and their relationships designed to describe, explain, and predict social behavior and organization – remains largely hidden from our students. In the end, the class often feels like a philosophy course and not a social science primer on motivating research, making sense of data, and organizing scientific writing.

Before going too far, let me acknowledge that I do read the classics and I enjoyed reading them as a grad student. But, I did not enjoy my undergrad or graduate classical theory course because they felt so divorced from the other substantive courses, and in particular the latter, felt so divorced from what contemporary theorists were doing that it made little sense. I realize, of course, that theory is a contested word in sociology; and, while I err on the side of sociological theory as scientific theory, I am more than comfortable accepting a form of theory that is closer to biology than physics. Either way, in my mind, theory remains a mode of abstraction designed to explain some sort of phenomenon by raising it beyond the specific details of the case. To be sure, theories sometimes describe such as Weber’s ideal typologies, but classification systems are really only as good as their capacity to inspire explanation. I’m also comfortable with some level of atheoretical work. Good descriptive demography matters and should not be cast out. Finally, I also recognize that sociology is a big tent discipline, but I will die on the hill that we are a science and not critical humanities, journalism, history, or philosophy. Every university has clearly delineated disciplines that train their students in these fields. There is no need for us to encroach on their territory acting as though we can do their thing better than they can. Rather, we should double down on sociology as a science of human societies. To that end, classical theory is such a bear to deal with for several reasons – though I will only list a few.

1. What is classical? In some ways, classical likely harkens to a classical liberal education steeped in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew. Our classics are a century plus old, and not archaeological artifacts. But, in another sense, classical refers to an era that is sharply delineated from the current era. But, where is that demarcation? Is the line between 1800 and 1900? Is it pre-WWII? Perhaps, but then where do Parsons, Merton, Shils, Hughes, and others prominently writing in the 1950s and before fit? Is it 1960 to the present? Does a theorist need to be dead? Is Bourdieu and Goffman classic because they’re dead, but Giddens is contemporary because he is alive? It is impossible to even determine this, yet we keep the course on the books. (And don’t get me started on the fact that theory is not really treated as a viable subfield or theorist a viable specialization in the current configuration of American sociology, so what is contemporary is primarily dead people despite the fact that many people are still doing theory and theory is perhaps as good a subfield as it has ever been).
   
2. What is sociological theory? I hate to quibble over words, but I do think most recognize the distinction between social and sociological theory. The classical theorists, most of whom had no disciplinary allegiance or professional socialization, blurred the lines, but most of us recognize the differences. The latter tends towards explanation of phenomenon while the former strains towards broad systems of meaning and understanding designed to get at big questions that are impossible to falsify let alone verify, but which feel “deep.” The Frankfurt school and critical sociologies hew towards this end, for example, picking up where Marx’s soteriology and eschatology ends. When we dig into questions of “human nature” – not the evolved biological capacities we share with apes, but the philosophic questions of whether we are naturally good or bad – we veer into social theory. When we ask what the “good society” is, we lean into social theory. I am not against social theory. I found Marcuse’s One-Dimensional Man and that pushed me into theory. But, what is the point of requiring a course that is logically connected to methods and research but which does not work to actually connect the two aspects of research together? Put differently, if we aren’t teaching sociological theory while emphasizing research methods to our students, then, we are building an artificial and unnecessary barrier between required courses and the very backbone of the discipline.
   
3. Pouring over ‘ancient’ texts is best left to Biblical scholars and archival historians. That we have to read Durkheim or Marx over and over implies they lacked a sort of clarity and precision that we would demand any contemporary theorist employ. For instance, Durkheim never defines integration or regulation, sometimes arguing they are totally independent of each other and sometimes arguing the former causes or precedes the latter. The former problem resists consistent, effective operationalization while the latter prevents the sort of common language scientific communities require if they are to build cumulative knowledge. The same issues arise around two of the most famous sociological concepts: alienation and anomie. We use them every day, but they are difficult to define and measure because they are too rooted in vague texts. (As an aside, the exaltation of ambiguities seems to spread to how we decide what contemporary theorists are best. Unlike the classical theorists who had few standards or training to lean on, Bourdieu purposefully obfuscated his whole career making his theories feel deep and original, but mostly just making them “useful” because of their lack of clarity).
   
4. Finally, something that has become very clear recently is the level of analysis most, not all, classical theory works with. For the most part, these theorists were speaking to people who were classically educated and interested in the historical and evolutionary past. Their data were not always solid and their intellectual pursuits were often colored (and constrained) by their social milieu, but sociology was the science of society and not American Society. Their theories work with time scales much larger than we are used to working with and far more expansive space than ordinary. Consequently, their level of generalization and abstraction rests at the level of biological theorizing, which runs against the grain of most people’s own ability and training. We don’t think evolutionarily, despite the fact that evolution and genetics are undeniably important. We do not think historically, but rather impose presentist logic in ahistorical ways. Most criminally, we often ignore the massive theoretical and empirical disjunction between the macro world Weber or Marx are thinking about and the micro world that consumes our own ego and sense of self. That is to say, unthinkingly, we commit the ecological fallacy casually more often than not.

In short, there are so many problems with making classical theory a required theory course as opposed to just a survey of the history of the discipline; one, incidentally, that does not artificially separate the now from the then by collapsing the middle era in which most of the now emerged out of. Teach the history, but leave theory for teaching theory. The historical course can right past wrongs, can think about how social thought evolves and moves over time, and how scientific communities are social entities subject to social dynamics. But, then isolate the concepts and principles that are theoretical and teach theory in a course about theory. So, if you are teaching classical theory next term or in the future and want to change, even a tiny bit, what would that look like? I wrote a few ideas on the back of a cocktail napkin and am expanding on them below.

Rethinking What We Are Up To

1. Leaving the Humanities Heuristic Behind: I was trained in classical theory, initially, through the classic Coser text, Masters of Sociological Thought. It meant a lot to me. It still does. But, at this point, I see little value in the humanities version of theory. The great man (and now, increasingly, woman) model of teaching theorists needs to be thrown away. Unintended consequences abound, not least of which is the tendency to elevate contemporary theorists to some god-like status (I’m looking at you Bourdieu, and sort of you, too, Foucault). All of which obscures the hard work of learning to use theory to motivate research, make sense of your data and case, and write clear papers using theory. The least one could do is to abandon this antiquated model. I know it can be scary, but it is worth doing. What makes this so hard, in particular, is that theory has finally become more inclusive in recognizing and lauding the contributions of marginalized folks, like WEB Du Bois. But, that story needs to be told in a history of the discipline sort of class, and Du Bois scientific contributions pulled out from the rest so that they can be incorporated into the framework of a new sort of theory course. He can remain cited and celebrated, but like the rest should be set aside to make room for the science.
   
   The most likely criticism, and fairest, I think this approach would/will/does receive is that the classics are the one remaining source of common socialization for sociology. I do not dispute this argument. But, I also think that isn’t a good argument for pedagogically poor decisions. Moreover, if that is truly the reason it says a lot more about the discipline itself. An alternative way to view this: if most classical theory courses abandon the biographical heuristic, perhaps textbooks and texts will fill the void with increasingly standardized versions of a new theory course that substitutes as the center holding the diverse array of sociologists to some sort of anchor.
   
2. Seek Wisdom from our Elders: Before the reorganization of theory into classic and contemporary, and the construction of the former into some sort of pantheon or hall of fame, sociology wove theory into the substantive subfields. Admittedly, some of this stems from the simple fact that functionalism dominated the landscape for a significant period of time, supplying a relatively common set of concepts and principles. Lurking behind these assumptions was organizing heuristics much different from today. For some, sociological theory was best taught by selecting certain themes around which constellations of texts orbited. At one point years ago, I used SN Eisenstadt’s argument that classical theory was centered on three primary problems: the problem of integration, of regulation, and of legitimation – community/solidarity, power/authority, and meaning. To this, I happily added the self, given the fact that at the time of Eisenstadt’s introduction to sociology, symbolic interaction was radically distinct from the center of the field. Once thematicized, it was easy to find readings from a plurality of writers that zoomed in on key issues I felt were central to these themes. No biographies, just an attempt at crafting cohesive, coherent pedagogical units.
   
   Years later, I shifted to Robert Nisbet’s 1972 text on sociological traditions. Nisbet argued that there were five central axes upon which society changed, most rapidly and visibly, in the 1800s: community, authority, status, the sacred, and alienation. Like Eisenstadt, Nisbet did not see one theorist as dominating one theme, but rather multiple theorists thinking through why and how these changes came to be and, especially, what that meant for the world they inhabited and, perhaps, the future. Community and authority are self-explanatory, whereas status captures a much larger set of things. At its simplest, Nisbet identified the fact that people’s identities and esteem were once wrapped up in ascribed patterns of status that gave way to an achieved form of status. But, Nisbet took this further to capture the transformation in classes of people and stratification, the emergence of myriad hierarchies, and the differentiation of culture and symbolic reality. One could, for instance, pair Weber’s Class, Status, Party with a reading from The Religion of India on status and class alongside Du Bois’ work on the color line and Veblen’s conspicuous consumption. All revolve around this idea. The sacred, something largely ignored by modern sociology, referred to Weber and Durkheim’s interest in religion as a force of unification and of change; and, of course, as something losing its omnipotence. Finally, most theorists recognized that there were negative consequences wrought by industrialization, atomization, and the like.
   
   The strength here is that one could choose from a range of themes. And, these problems or themes remain evergreen today. For instance, ascribed and achieved status remain forces today. For all of these theorists, it wasn’t a change in kind but of degree. Likewise, community and authority, integration, and regulation, remain central factors in everyday life, local politics, and at the larger levels of social life like the state. The issue, as is always the case with classical theory, is that macrosociology feels far, far away. But, these themes touch on the small groups we belong to as much as they do on the macro-level societies that we feel subtle connections with. Our families, peer groups, classrooms, dorm halls, and so forth all reflect these dynamics. And, one can always toss in microsociological ideas given symbolic interaction as well as the myriad traditions in the 1950s-1970s that moved Weberian principles of status to the group level.
   
3. Embrace the Science, Eschew the Rest. If one stopped here, their classical class would be fresher. But, let’s say you want to take it to the next level. Embracing the science of the classics and tossing out the rest is the most radical step left – besides throwing the whole class out. Let’s take Durkheim as an example. The first route to doing this is by teaching Suicide as a theory-building text. Durkheim has two principles: suicide rates are a positive function of the structure of social relationships and, two, the structure of social relationships vary in terms of their level of integration and regulation. That’s it. From here, there are so many interesting lessons: can we find how he defines them conceptually? Operationally? Can we conceptualize other things that might vary as such? From there, myriad treatises beginning in the 1950s that seek to clarify, expand, critique, and deal with Durkheim’s theoretical frame can introduce the student to how theories evolve in the crucible of empirics and within the larger community of sociological knowledge. Another possibility: Durkheim’s Elementary Forms has a basic thesis regarding the emotional and behavioral dynamics behind the construction and maintenance of collectives, whether couples, small groups, organizations, or bigger amalgams. Forget the rest. That is the gist. One can then introduce the three recent theoretical efforts to leverage this insight and expand it: Goffman’s Interaction Rituals, Collins’ Interaction Ritual Chains, and Lawler’s Affect Theory of Social Exchange. Each offers key additions and clarifications. From there, one can introduce basic social neuroscience, ethnology, and psychology that show Durkheim’s theory is, in fact, supported by strong interdisciplinary empirical evidence. This exercise opens up a range of applications and research puzzles demanding study.

I could go on. Weber’s natural experiment in which he pits Europe against China and India provides an opportunity to think about historical methods as theory-building and testing. Mead, and really Blumer, provide the foundations for a diverse array of contemporary experimental programs like the aforementioned Affect Theory, but also Identity Control Theory and Expectations States Theory. Each of these, however, provides insight into how these basic building blocks are married to other theoretical ideas and how this informs the types of questions people ask and try to answer.

Final Thoughts

There are two other points I might make. The first is to resist presentism. I get that many aspects of the classics cannot be interpreted in the social milieus in which they were written, all the more reason to shine the light brightly on the science, but I also think it is possible to resist recasting them in ways that would make no sense to the authors. Durkheim is, again, a great example. The idea that his sociology is colonial, imperial, white supremacist, conservative, or whatever the preferred du jour critique makes zero sense. Durkheim was a Jew in the 19th century living in a much greater religiously saturated world. He was anything but a part of the system, unless you consider his status as a university professor as complicit in some essentialist, oversocialized logic. (And if that is the case, then all professors then and NOW are tools of the state). He was marginal. It is hard, from a modern view in which Jews in many Western countries, are viewed as white, to remember this is a recent construction dating to, say, 50 or 60 years ago at most. If that is not enough to convince the skeptic, go read about the Dreyfus Affair. In his day, his sociology was radical. He cannot help it that religion and civil life split so radically decades after his death. The beauty of my recipe for recasting classical theory is that little of this matters. Either Durkheim’s theory of suicide or interaction ritual/group formation can be empirically verified or cannot. It either makes sense of data and motivates research or it does not. Just as Darwin’s model of natural selection is either useful or not, the classics are only useful in so far as they provide scientific knowledge. Otherwise, the mismatch between our and their social milieu is far too great to overcome. Their education and what their average reader would understand is extraordinarily divorced from what an educated reader today would understand, let alone a 20-year-old. Rather than reduce them to caricatures of some political or social issues today, let’s toss the junk out and leave those debates for philosophers or activists or someone else.

The last fix I would consider? Go big! If you really want to radicalize your classical theory course, make the ultimate criteria for inclusion death. If one no longer breathes our air, then they are fair game. This exercise makes things harder, because it pushes us to compress nearly a century’s worth of theory into a class already suffering from a time crunch. But, it forces us to be creative and think harder about the themes or problems we want to emphasize as central to the sociological project. It cuts the fat, so to speak. It also encourages the sort of scientific emphasis I think is necessary for sociology to take its next steps forward and become treated by the public and policymakers with the dignity it deserves. We should be churning out lay sociologists who are better than just critics of their environment. They should be able to spot the social dynamics we know a lot about rather than be expert complainers. Likewise, the other wing of sociologists we churn out, those expert statisticians and ethnographers – should have the theoretical edge necessary to translate their work into sociological change instead of economic or psychological change. Going big ensures their classical theory course is not perfunctory or radically disassociated from the rest of their sociological education.