Chapter 8. Neo-positivism
8.1. The impotent society
After the meetings of the International Sociological Association in Sweden in 1978, I received several letters from colleagues abroad asking for explanations of what they had seen. The meetings took place in Uppsala, only a short journey from the capital, Stockholm. They had been there, and they were shocked and bewildered by what they had seen: the drunks, the drugged, young derelicts roaming about, gathering at the doorsteps of Parliament, the major concert hall, in the subways, dark spots on an otherwise immaculately clean, beautiful, Scandinavian design. Police were in attendance, but very seldom interfered. Several participants had also travelled through the other Scandinavian countries, and had been struck by the same thing everywhere. In Oslo, one of the favourite hang-outs for small traders and users of drugs is a hillock in the park at the doorstep of the Royal Palace, with the Old University and the National Theatre as the closest neighbours, and Parliament just in front. It is as if these young drop-outs want to be seen, as if they want to say something.
Maybe they do.
There are several interpretations of what they are saying. The simplest is that they are not saying anything at all. At least not anything new. They have always been around and have now only become more visible. It is just a question of old figures against a new ground. We have torn down the worst slums. The natural meeting-points for the lumpenproletariat have been eliminated, converted into pleasant, dull, clean blocks for dull, clean, adapted families. In the absence of ghettos for the losers, they gather around the centres of pride. If Harlem and its equivalents did not exist, they would gather outside the Rockefeller Center.
Another interpretation concentrates on the position of youth in modern, industrialized societies. Youth has become a highly prolonged stage of life. The age structure has been adapted to the work structure. People are less needed for work than before. We take care of this by increasing the number of years spent waiting for work, and pensioned off after work. The general age for retirement is gradually being decreased. We call it a privilege, and so it is for many. At the other end of the age scale, we increase the number of years people are kept outside the work force by increasing the number of compulsory or close to compulsory years spent in the educational system. That system is open to everybody. It has been the pride of our social democratic countries. Everybody is given the privilege to compete -- on an arena built by and for the middle classes. It is an arrangement perfectly suited for transforming structural inequalities into experience of individual failure and guilt (cfr Hernes and Knudsen 1976, Callewaert and Nilsson 1978). Most losers are good losers. They accept the verdict, they are not better than their grades, and they do also accept the position in or outside of the work force deserved by the grade. But some do not. They sit it out in the park.
Ivan Illich (1978) has made a case for the fruitfully occupied unemployed. In Denmark, a group of unemployed have created a society for enjoying their happy free status. Freedom from the slavery in the types of work given to large groups of the working population is a great privilege, for those given the resources to enjoy it. But it takes a long life and lots of training in classical languages and upper class puritanism to create one of those idle Englishmen who enjoyed life on inherited means. It took a Jesuit training and considerable natural talent to create an Illich. Useful unemployment is beyond the reach of most people in societies where we are programmed to follow the rhythm of days and years of work. The unemployed or pensioned are literally paid off, given free time without content. They will easily end up in life-styles beyond their own and other peoples' control.
In addition comes the factor that class-differences are more visible now. Seen from abroad or from the perspective of old people, and measured in money or material belongings, most people are unbelievably wealthy within our Scandinavian societies. But people do not look at themselves from abroad or in a historical perspective. Inequalities remain, and the growth in wealth which could temporarily soften dissatisfaction has come to a stop. Inequalities are not any more only a preliminary stage. They are seen by all parties concerned as permanent features of societies with explicit emphasis on equality.
If these societies are of the Scandinavian type, they will designate themselves as welfare states. Hasse Zetterberg has called these societies a gambler's paradise, a place where you can only win, not lose. It was in the sixties he coined the term in a lecture in Oslo. I am not so sure he would use it today. It is possible to lose completely, drug addicts prove it every day. Prostitutes exemplify it. The minimum pension for old or sick people is in Norway close to one fourth of the average salary of an industrial worker. Those dependent on money from the municipal social security system might end up with less than half of the minimum pension. As formulated by Knut Dahl Jacobsen (1967), "the greatest hindrance towards attaining the welfare state is the belief that we have one." Balvig (1980) has made a strong case showing that the old relationship between poverty and crime is still in existence, regardless of all talk to the contrary.
Nonetheless; we live in some sort of welfare state. Those belonging to the conforming poor cannot lose completely. For them there is a safety-net somewhere far below. This is the big difference from the beginning of this century. Our old labour politicians look with a deserved pride on their accomplishments. These are societies where the "deserving poor" are not starving, have some sort of shelter, and are also given some sort of material care during the very last stages of life.
But this very system creates certain peculiar problems for social control. Parts of the lumpenproletariat have lost close to everything. There is nothing more to take away as punishment. They cannot be controlled by a threat of losing work, they are out of it. They cannot be controlled by any threat of losing family-relations, they have none. They cannot be controlled by the threat that relatives will suffer; the welfare state is supposed to take care of them. The belief that we have one is as useful for members at the bottom as for those more privileged when it comes to calming guilt for lack of attendance to relatives or friends in need of care. And lastly; those members of the lumpenproletariat willing to live at the absolute minimum cannot be starved into control. They will be assured the basic minimum even though they are often forced to convert it into drugs or alcohol.
The time is free, the minimum-money is mine (and could not be removed without shaking the whole base of our welfare societies), and nobody needs me anyhow. Why should I not drink or drug myself to any stage I want. Any stage, including my own death.
In addition comes the recent history of crime control as described in this book. Treatment for crime seems to be of no use. Science, as well as social developments, have killed it all. Compulsive treatment of deviant behaviour did not work, and it was clearly demonstrated that the idea of treatment resulted in severe injustices directed against members of the working class. Treatment institutions for young offenders, dangerous offenders, and psychopaths are nearly all abolished. Forensic psychiatrists have got a very low status among doctors. The younger generation has up to now nearly all been against all sorts of compulsory treatment for most types of deviant behaviour. As a reaction to abuses in the name of treatment, and to forestall potential abuses in deterrence theory, we have got a more legalistic ideology, exemplified through neo-classicism.
We can still cope with severe crime, that is, we can get the severe offenders off the streets in the name of justice. But when it comes to the small ones, we are impotent. They are easily seen. It is a disgusting sight. They drink or dope themselves to death. But some do it on a pension, others on petty crimes difficult to prove. Treatment would not help.
8.2. Advocates for control
Not only visitors from abroad have difficulties in comprehending the highly visible phenomena of dark deviance on the otherwise so clean and well-ordered surface. We all have difficulties, but some more than others. Three groups are particularly heavily hurt:
First: Parents and others related to youngsters who drop out with drugs, alcohol, or general criminal activities. Those who did not obey parental authority could be starved back into the herd in the olden days. Nowadays they can survive on leftovers from affluence plus social security. Vocal requests for alternative measures of control are therefore increasingly being made. We cannot let young people run completely wild. Compulsory attendance in schools, treatment-homes, collectivities and eventually prisons becomes the declared alternative to work. Some old liberals are attempting to stem the tide by pointing to the dangers of stigma and the horrors of prisons. They are easily neutralized by parents pointing to a child lost in drug abuse. They would rather see him alive, in prison. I agree.
A second vocal category consists of the actual or potential victims of visible crime. It is impossible to say whether crime has increased or not. But it seems to be certain that anxiety concerning crime has increased. Crime is such an important part of the commodities sold through the mass-media. At the same time, the social structure has changed in a way that makes it impossible to find out how representative these news reports are. Balvig (1979) has clearly documented that the anxiety for being a victim of crime increases the more isolated a person is. The lonely old lady will see the same as the foreign visitor in the centre of Stockholm. In addition, she will read the newspaper and get it all confirmed. But she is not the only one. And there are realities behind the concern. The welfare states have had a considerable success in distributing property. There are few grown-ups without belongings, things that can be stolen, property for which they demand protection through stern measures against intruders.
Again some old liberals attempt to intervene, telling the old ladies that it is not all that dangerous, and pointing out to the new, affluent worker that those who threaten his property are sad, bad cases, poor and sick, and in need of understanding rather than pain. The former Minister of Justice from the Labour party in Norway said so, but she became former through such sayings. The political far left seems confused and in doubt as to how to handle this matter at present. Most take a liberal position, but there are exceptions, as represented by the influential Maoist Jan Myrdal (1977). In several articles he has argued that criminals are the enemies of the working class. Police and prison guards are according to Myrdal closer to the working class than the lumpenproletariat. It is according to him far from obvious that the worker in all cases ought to support demands from the prison movements. "We are in favour of law and order. We are at the side of the police both in the fight against crime, and in the policemen's fight for improved working-conditions and increased salaries".
It was back in the 1960's that prisoners and former prisoners held their first general meeting in Sweden. The press called it "The thieves' parliament". It came as a shock. Prisoners should keep quiet, not make demands, not interfere in the penal process. A few years later, all the Scandinavian countries had their prisoner organizations. They were in the centre of public attention. They worked for the improvement of prison conditions, they organized prisoners, they organized strikes. Thomas Mathiesen (1974) describes it well. They experienced many defeats, but also some victories. The most important effect of it all was probably an increased feeling of self-confidence and dignity among the participants of the movements.
Today, the situation has changed dramatically. These days activities within the prison movements tend to be much more defensive of positions attained in the beginning of the 1970's. The movements are not any longer in the centre of public attention. The climate has changed. Former allies have become enemies, more soft-spoken, or out of power. An economic recession makes for less willingness to experiment. The highly visible dark spot on the welfare facade strengthens those forces demanding action, not softness. Demands for law and order have also had a breakthrough in Scandinavia. Of course they have. Highly industrialized societies are bound to create situations where that will happen. During the first stages, when there was always more of everything, more to distribute, we could all relax, liberalism could rule, problems could be defined as transitory. Now they are permanent. There is not more to distribute every year. The situation has changed from one with a perceived potentiality of unlimited progress, to one of defence of what has been attained.
But more embittered, and also more confused than any, are the architects of it all, those who were young and poor and active in a fight for a socialism later converted into a social democratism, later converted into a welfare state. Compared to our past poverty, our recent affluence is beyond imagination. Studies (e.g. Ramsöy 1977) show it, and we do not even need the studies, since so many still remember. Compared to past insecurities, our recent social security system has outstanding qualities. Is it not obvious that we have reached the goal, that we are there? Why do they then remain, those thin, pale youngsters outside the Palace, visible both to the King and all the King's men?
The temptation must be tremendous. Just a few decisions in Parliament, and the last dark spot would be removed. It would not be necessary to call it a law against hooliganism; that might be misunderstood. One could call it a law for the protection of problem-youth. They need protection. Their parents need it. Their victims need it. The welfare states need it now that they have come so close to perfection that they lose control.
To sum it all up: The situation is one where minor offenders have become more visible and also more difficult to control at the very same time as their relatives, victims of crime, left-wing politicians and architects of the welfare states have become vocal advocates for some sort of action. In its totality, this is an unstable situation. Something is bound to happen, and so it does.
8.3. Our comrades
Last summer, 350 social workers met in Sweden to receive the message on how to handle the drug problem. They met in a small and geographically very remote place called Hassela. Nothing is more known, more debated in social work circles just now than Hassela. Institutions based on their principles are mushrooming, also in other Scandinavian countries. And their ideas are also invading other types of institutions as well as ordinary social work practice.
And what is the message?
The most pronounced theme is that the clients are our comrades. The drug-users and drinkers, they belong to the working class. We, the Hassela-people are socialists. They are our comrades, and must be treated as such. We have a common identity and a common cause. Comradeship means responsibility, we are obliged to drag our comrades out of their misery by any means available. Any. From 1850 and up to the turn of the century the Scandinavian workers suffered through their enormous alcohol consumption. The leaders of the labour movement saw this, and acted. Workers could not become free, and the movement strong, if alcohol was not controlled. Teetotalism became an important part of labour, and the alcohol problem was brought under control. Now consumption of alcohol as well as drugs is back to the old, dangerous level, and has to be controlled by the old recipe.
One of the old ways was to force people into abstinence. Comrades are not allowed to drug themselves to death, they are rescued. You die for your comrade and of course you compel him to live. If necessary, you compel him to stop using drugs. If necessary, you enforce your comradely attention for several years, until he is rescued. Hassela is for young drug users. They are picked up in Stockholm, sent to Hassela independently of their own wishes and brought back by the police if they run away. They are kept one year. In addition comes one year of compulsive attendance at a "folk high school" together with other youngsters whose stay is not compulsory. They can be kept until the age of 20. The legal base for keeping them is the Child Welfare Law.
Another major theme is the general moralism of the approach. Standards are established, breach of standards severely censured by staff-members and other comrades. Hassela is not a place for digging into clients' souls, nor into the many sad external circumstances in earlier life. There is no soft liberalism here. This is a demanding place with heavy consequences for a possible lack of response or lack of responsibility. It is a rough life. Rough for the youngsters, but also for the staff. They live there, take part in all activities, have no shield between themselves and the others. It is a total institution for all.
It seems to work. They claim success rates far above anything experienced in the Kingdom of Sweden these days. This is a controversial matter (Englund 1975, Thelander 1979), but the claim might prove to be substantiated. Hassela is probably very successful in bringing young people's drug use to an end, and has most certainly proved successful in reducing the feeling of acute professional impotence among social workers and related professionals. The costs of that success might outweigh the gains of their help to young drug users.
8.4. My comrade, the functionary
The problem with Hassela is not Hassela, but all those eagerly waiting for a message on what to do in all those situations where society today does not act at all. Hassela seems to be filled with warm idealism and with people who live with the consequences of their ideas. I have great respect for their acts. But not for their social analysis. The analogy between our Scandinavian societies in this century and the century before is an extremely dangerous one, omitting the existence of the category of people most eagerly receiving their message. During the last twenty years we have had an enormous expansion in the number of professionals trained into an identity of caring for other people's behavioural problems. Now they are there, some of them with their identity at stake. But at the same time they are functionaries, most of them working in bureaucracies, from nine to four, with clear lines of command, with documents, with short encounters with clients, with potential power vis-à-vis these clients, but just administrative power. They will not have to live with the consequences of their decisions; they will drive home to the suburbs, to partner and children and dogs and summer-house, and somewhere someone will have to let drug-users feel the consequences when they do not live according to the rules of a game between comrades. Those someones will become the new breed within social control in westernized societies. I suggest we call them comrade-functionaries.
But some will do more than talk as comrades but act as mere functionaries. They will start collectivities for drug-users themselves. They have learned how to do it. If clients run away, they will try to find them and bring them back. If they cannot find them, they will ask the police to do so. When the police bring them back, they will keep a close eye on them, and prevent them from running away anew. But they will get tired. Partners will need attention; their children have got the measles; the police get irritated; they install some locks. But locks are easily opened, and illegal opening is a challenge in itself. A fence is raised, some clients dig a hole; a wall is raised, some jump the wall; bars are installed, some remove the bars and jump the wall. A special treatment unit is built.
It is like an old film. We have been through it all before. The potentialities of the Hassela ideology reflect a repetition of work schools for criminal youngsters. They started as idealistically run and completely open offers to young people who really deserved an honest offer. Through the mechanics of teachers being obliged to keep their unusually unwilling pupils, they ended as unusually unpleasant indeterminate prisons. It is difficult to understand why social workers should prove more successful.
The special arrangements and institutions for children difficult to govern were established in Scandinavia at the end of the last century as a result of combined interests among law personnel, educationalists and politicians (Stang Dahl 1978). It came as a great relief to everybody on the controlling side. The staff should be experts, to a large extent recruited from education, health or welfare. But this last element never materialized. There were not so many professionals around in those days. But now there are, eagerly waiting for new tasks, and also protected against the memories from past approaches by seeing themselves as comrades. We end up in a system of enforced consumption where one of the commodities becomes social control, served by a comrade-functionary close to that type of personnel we otherwise meet in totalitarian societies.