Mirrors and Masks

The Search for Identity

Anselm L. Strauss

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2017
• ISBN:
  9781351505147
• Edition: 2
• Topic: Psychologie
• Subtopic: Histoire et théorie en psychologie

Identity as a concept is as elusive as everyone's sense of his own personal identity. It is connected with appraisals made by oneself and by others. Each person sees himself mirrored in the judgments of others. The masks he presents to the world are fashioned upon his anticipations of judgments. In Mirrors and Masks, Anselm Strauss uses the notion of identity to organize materials and thoughts about certain aspects of problems traditionally intriguing to social psychologists.The problems Strauss considers to be intriguing traditionally are those encountered when studying group membership, motivation, personality development, and social interaction. The topics covered include: the basic importance of language for human action and identity; the perpetual indeterminacy of identities in constantly changing social contexts; the symbolic and developmental character of human interaction; the theme of identity as it affects adult behaviqr; relations between generations and their role in personality development; and the symbolic character of membership in groups.By focusing on symbolic behavior with an emphasis on social organization, Strauss presents a fruitful, systematic perspective from which to view traditional problems of social psychology. He opens up new areas of thought and associates matters that are not ordinarily considered to be related. Strauss believes that psychiatrists* and psychologists underestimate immensely the influence of social organization upon individual behavior and individual structure, and that sociologists, whose major concern is with social organization, should employ some kind of social psychology in their research. Mirrors and Masks shows that the fusion of theoretical approaches benefits the analyses of many scholars. This fascinating work should be read by sociologists, anthropologists, psychologists, and psychiatrists.

Chapter Three
Interaction

THE student of identity must necessarily be deeply interested in interaction for it is in, and because of, face-to-face inter action that so much appraisal–of self and others–occurs. To be sure "interaction" is such a sufficiently ambiguous term as perhaps to signify no more than the encounters and interplay of persons. Various ways of viewing and analyzing interactional process are possible; and it will become quickly apparent that my way is directed by certain kinds of theoretical interests, derived mainly from my stance as a sociologist. I am not so much interested, for instance, in inter personal process as are the psychiatrists. I am primarily interested in interaction that takes place between persons viewed as members of groups-however subtle the character of their membership. Conventional, though effective, ways of analyzing interaction between and among members of "social positions" have been evolved by social scientists as they have sought to investigate and understand group and institutional structure. But a more detailed stare at the interactional process demands a more elaborate vocabulary, and a somewhat different viewpoint, if we would supplement and enrich our studies of social organizations and their members.

As a first step toward discussing interaction, I wish to direct your attention to "motivation." My treatment of the topic will not remind you very much of what is found in most social psychology textbooks or in psychoanalytic writings. I have been struck by something akin to an implicit motivational theory in many sociological research reports; and this has been more explicitly formulated by such men as George Mead, Kenneth Burke, C. Wright Mills, Alfred Lindesmith, and Nelson Foote.¹ The quotation from Schwartz and Stanton that closes this section on motivation should help to illustrate my point about an implicit theory of motivation. When the social scientist focuses upon inter action within institutional settings–as in hospitals or factories–he tends to write about the ways in which persons regard other persons, the motives that they attribute to each other, and he is interested in the consequences that flow from this special type of name-calling.

Motivation

The act of identifying objects, human or physical, allows a person to organize his action with reference to those objects. Such overt action may consist of a series of smaller acts which add up to a line of activity, as for instance when you identify your pen as having run dry. The whole sequence of actions–observing that the pen ceases to write, pressing harder to test whether any ink remains, testing further by opening the pen filler, then fetching the ink, filling the pen, wiping off the excess ink–constitutes the line of behavior "released" by your definition of the pen as "in need of ink." Note that in this illustration the line between "object" (dry pen) and "situation" (the pen has run dry) is largely semantic. In that sense behavior toward even physical objects is situational.

Elaborate sequences of acts likewise occur because you must identify social situations in order to cope with them. Consider the following mundane situation: a man enters his house at the end of the afternoon, kisses his wife who has come to the door to greet him, engages in a few conventional remarks, and sits down to listen to the radio newscast while his wife continues to prepare dinner. Sociologists would say that the situation was "well defined." Both man and wife identify the overall situation, recognize their agreed upon division of labor, and know in general what preceded and what will follow. The myriad of cues striking their eyes and ears are perceived as conventionally named objects –living room, greetings, kiss. Many cues are not noticed, but those noticed tend to be relevant to performances within the domestic drama.

Implicit also in the organization of either participant's line of action is the assumption of each that the identities of both self and other are known. The husband sees or recognizes or defines or identifies or classifies–depending upon which verb one chooses to use–his wife and himself vis-a-vis each other in this sequence of familiar acts. Who and what she is and he is, so far as this situation is concerned, are not in question. This is not to say that all matters of reciprocal identity are settled, but only that each knows which of his and her possible identities–their possible "I's" –are likely to enter into this conventionally acted out situation.

Suppose now the husband arrives home as usual but finds a situation that he is unable to define satisfactorily, at least initially. For the sake of illustration suppose his wife's greeting lacks customary warmth and that she retires quickly without further speech. If this concatenation of gestures strikes him as unfamiliar, then he is faced with a problem of definition. A series of related questions–involving the proper identification of gestures, objects, events, persons and situation–must be answered.

Central to his inquiry and its satisfactory solution are questions relating to personal identity and to motives. Consider first the matter of identity. Of course, he knows who his wife "is" in a general sense; he knows her name, her general status (daughter, wife, mother), and her characteristic traits and gestures. What he does not know is in which of her capacities she is acting–and this he must discover. Is she sick, self-absorbed, angry, reproachful? If either of the latter, at or toward whom–me, her mother, her daughter, someone I do not know? If his wife's gestures are unusual or the situation which caused them is not easily identified, then the husband must search for cues in his memory, in the room. If her behavior is not entirely unfamiliar, then his recollection of similar situations, in conjunction with certain validating acts of his own, may quickly allow him to label "what is going on."

In a problematic situation, a person must not only identify the current other, he must pari passu identify his current self.

Establishment of one's own identity to oneself is as important in interaction as to establish it for the other. One's own identity in a situation is not absolutely given but is more or less problematic.²

"Who am I in this situation?" is problematic just as long as the situation is problematic. Identification of the situation depends upon making interlocked discriminations concerning relevant events, things, and persons–including oneself. All these must be discovered. Only with conventional activities is it possible instantly, effortlessly, almost automatically to read off the definition of the situation and all that the definition implies.

In the latter kinds of situations, the participants carry out required or expected sequences of acts. These are self explanatory. They are understood by everyone involved as flowing from the nature of the situations and the conventional roles of participants. No one questions why a salesgirl returns to the customer his rightful change, and why he expects her to; or why a lifeguard slowly rows his boat at the edge of a swimming area. Explanations of such behavior exist, of course, but they have the status of assumptions rather than queries. It is different with problematic situations. Here, any person trying to define the situation is necessarily grappling also with motivational problems. You are forced to ask, by the very ambiguity of the situation, what do those acts mean? Why did those others perform them?

To answer necessitates that you ask such further detailed questions as who directed the act at whom? Why? Was it an act by itself, or did it follow something that others–perhaps I, myself–did or said? Or was it merely a segment of a longer act? You cannot answer such questions without having to decide what names to assign everybody in the particular drama–that is, their situational identities. But this categorization also requires you to judge their motives. The inferential character of all this is underlined by the mistakes, trifling or serious, that one may make in the naming of others' acts.

If participants in any situation did not make such assumptions or guesses about the grounds of others' action, their own action would be stymied, or at best exploratory. The imputation of motives to others is necessary if action is to occur. Like other designations, motivational assessments may be quite incorrect; nevertheless sequences of action will be organized in light of those assessments.

What does it mean to say that "motivational assessments may be quite incorrect"? Presumably, that there is some standard of correctness, that a man was so motivated and another man gave this and no other assessment of the motivation. Thus put, the matter seems simple; actually it is extremely complex. Let us refer back, first, to previous discussions of naming and classifying, since it is clear that assigning reasons for acts is essentially a matter of saying what these reasons and acts "are." Classifications are not "in" the object; an object gets classified from some perspective. The same object will be differently classified from different perspectives; and categories into which it can be placed are inexhaustible. Different groups of men have characteristic perspectives and so neither name objects identically nor possess exactly equivalent systems of classification. All this is as true of events and acts as for things. In the words of C. W. Mills: "Men discern situations with particular vocabularies. "³

With this in mind, consider now what must occur if two persons with vastly different social backgrounds meet. Their classifications of acts will only partially overlap. Suppose that one man acts and the other imputes a motive to his act. Frequently such an imputation will disagree with the actor's own understanding of what he has done; for though there is some overlap between their systems of naming, there is also much discrepancy. The motive attribution (by the observer) and the motive avowal (by the actor) will reflect this discrepancy. What each most certainly will do is to project into the other's behavior what might be his own reasons for acting. Most writers of historical romances capitalize on this propensity to project, so that 18th century characters are really "out of character" because their deeds are actuated by the motives of our own century. You will recall that Mark Twain revised this standard formula and placed a Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, much of the humor and plot of his story turning upon the difficulties which beset the pretender.

The historical romance parodies the real problem of obtaining consistency between the motivational attribution of observers and the motivational avowal of the characters themselves, were the latter alive. Few readers of these romances may question the author's motivational imputations, but this does not certify the author's accuracy. Likewise, in real life, agreement among any group of people concerning the motives of another person merely tells us something about the common terminology with which they operate; in fact, it would be surprising if persons who used much the same explanatory vocabulary did not arrive frequently at much the same judgments.

The search for motives is, as we have seen, a search for an answer to a query. If your answer seems satisfactory, then you can organize your own action, taking the other person thus into account. If consequences ensue as expected, then your assessment tends to be confirmed. Even when consequences are not quite anticipated, they can be set aright by a kind of explanation piled upon explanation, as when it is said that the other's act looks like one thing but is really underneath, in somewhat disguised form, the kind that was anticipated.

(Thus the attribution of motives to resident doctors by medical students–who are likely to feel underprivileged in the teaching hospital, and as though they are made to do the residents' dirty work–is an attribution, negative in tone, that evolves only as a result of considerable and continual student discussion and because the acts of residents are frequently ambiguous, thereby in need of interpretation. The field worker on the study, from which this observation is drawn, often attributed other, more benign, motives to the residents; noting that the students ignored or explained away cues that led to his own different imputations.) ⁴

Your own motives also are matters of query and inquiry to yourself except in those regulated circumstances where actions are duly prescribed as if by a social script. But as I noted some paragraphs ago, the placement of identities in undefined situations also involves questions of self placement; that is, not only who am I in this situation, but what have I done that is relevant to the situation and what shall I do that will be appropriate to both the situation and the motives of the other persons? The relevant answers are not always lucidly or explicitly vocalized or systematically worked out, but some interpretation, some acts of designation must occur. Part and parcel of any interpretation of a situation is an interpretation of how one has behaved and is about to behave. This last set of interpretations can be termed a motivational statement.⁵ It embodies a justification of the overt behavior that follows upon its formulation in terms of "more or less anticipated consummations and con sequences. " ⁶

An unkind critic may say that the justification is an afterthought, a rationalization, a set of plausible reasons to satisfy others who might ask "why did you act as you did?" Often the reasons that you will give are not those that you know to be true. You are making a distinction between the explanation you give the public and the explanation you give yourself. Such a public avowal is equivalent to misnaming the act deliberately. A genuine motivational statement is not intended to deceive anyone. It is the person's summation, given to himself and only incidentally to others if he should choose to tell them, of what he is about to do and why. It involves "an estimation of the consequence of one's acts and an evaluation of these effects."⁷ For instance, "given the necessity of staying in school, and my bad marks, and the probability that this good student next to me won't protest, I'll copy, with a good chance of getting away with it."

What is the distinction then, if any, between a motivational statement and the overt action which follows? It is clear that they are not separate units, like a hand which throws a ball. The verbal (spoken to oneself, or more usually, merely thought) statement is an integral part of the entire activity. The act does not begin with its overt expression, the motivational statement merely preceding or accompanying the visible motions. Assessment of situation, persons, and self enter into the organization of an act, and are part of its structure.

There is not always a separation between public and private justifications. The justification that I offer myself is not entirely unique, individualistic, or generally anti-social. Because I learn to perceive and judge within socializing surroundings, and because I must take into account other persons' evaluations of my justifications, my public and private avowals often show no discrepancies. As Mills says:

To term them justifications is not to deny their efficacy. Often anticipations of acceptable justifications will control conduct. ... In many social actions, others must agree, tacitly or explicitly. Thus, acts often will be abandoned if no reason can be found that others will accept.⁸

Motive avowal and motive imputation are not radically different acts; they differ only insofar as motives are assigned to myself or to others. But the only motives that can be imputed are those which I myself can understand. I cannot attribute to others, any more than to myself, motives not dreamed of; neither can I attribute motives that I place no credence in, as for instance compacts with the devil or secret possession by spirits. We use the vocabularies of motive which we have learned to use, whether on ourselves or on others. When a man comes into contact with groups new to him and thus learns new terminologies, his assignments of motive become affected. He learns that new kinds of motivation exist, if not for himself then for others. Having admitted that such grounds for action do exist, it is often but a step to ascribe them to himself.

At this juncture it may very well be protested that I have been discussing the assignment of motives, but what about the real or actual motives? Is not the crux of the matter the actual motive, the one that is really operative? As the psychoanalysts have taught us, this is not easy to know, least of all if the motives are our own.

Since my aim is to discuss motives here only within the context of interaction, I wish only to point out that any social scientists attempting to get at the real root of an act must go through essentially the same procedures as the layman, but with more care, caution, and sophistication. If the meaning of some act, or set of acts, is obscure or uncertain– as when an adolescent is continually sarcastic to his mother –then the scientist proceeds to gather data. These may be of various kinds depending upon the interests, training, and perspicacity of the particular scientist, and may include the motivational statements of each member of the family, observations of the child and the mother, batteries of psychological tests, school records, and information about social class. After a considered judgment of the assembled data, a judgment of the child's grounds for action can reasonably be made. The terminology with which the scientist approaches problematic acts is marked by its systematic organization, and in this it differs from many non-scientific vocabularies. But the technical terms, like all other systems of classification, embody conceptions of what the world and its men essentially are. I am not concerned with the accuracy of the scientist's assessment, but with indicating how, like the layman's, it affects interaction between the scientist and "the other." The relationship here is not obscure; when a psychiatrist believes he understands his patient's basic motivations, or immediate motivations, he attempts to act in accordance with that assessment. A much more subtle instance, with many institutional ramifications, is suggested by Schwartz and Stanton in their fine study of a ward in a mental hospital.

The most common, most conspicuous, and most clearly serious misunderstanding occurred when someone, staff member or patient, ignored the explicit meaning of a statement or action and focused attention on an inferred meaning. This was a very frequent failing of seriously schizophrenic patients; its results were, curiously, to give rise to the belief that such patients might have an almost mysterious intuition. It was an equally frequent failing of the psychiatrists, so frequent as to amount almost to an occupational illness. . . .

... patients with paranoid trends ... found themselves thoroughly at home in such an environment and contributed heavily to its maintenance ....

Restriction of attention to "deep" interpretation was ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Introduction to the Transaction Edition
• Preface
• I. Language and Identity
• II. Self-Appraisals and the Course of Action
• III. Interaction
• IV. Transformations of Identity
• V. Change and Continuity
• VI. Membership and History
• VII. A Concluding Note
• Notes